Page 14 of Copper

I turn my head and close my eyes. “Fuck, Aaron. You could have warned me.”

“Sorry, Lucy. I’m excited. Is he one of them?”

I nod curtly and cover my mouth with my hand at the sight of a decomposing body. I can handle a lot of gore, but I can’t stomach decomposition. “He was one of the thugs.”

Aaron taps something else on his phone and turns it around. I look away and tentatively squint one eye at it, hoping I don’t see another decomposing body. What I find is a picture of the boss man smiling on Aaron’s phone in what looks like a driver’s license photo. I nod at it. “That’s the boss.”

“His name is George Cannon. He’s the guy I told you about that was sliced up pretty bad and murdered. The younger guy is Justin Hammons. He’s also obviously dead. At least you can rest easy that George Cannon isn’t concerned about his money anymore.”

“So, your dead dude cases are related to Beck and possibly to Murphy? This just keeps getting weirder and weirder. I mean, it’s nice the boss guy isn’t going to come looking for money, but I’m not sure if I’m relieved people involved in this are dying.”

Aaron pushes away from the wall and straightens his tie. “It’s pretty convenient that thug pirate guy over there is at the same event as Murphy and that Beck owed his dead boss money. Let’s go into the dining hall and rub some organized crime elbows.”

The dining room is decked out in white linens and matching seatbacks. Large chandeliers are spaced throughout the room and dimmed to create a romantic dinner ambiance. Blue and green accent decorations and napkins are on the table, giving the entire area a wedding under-the-sea vibe. Aaron calmly greets the board members at the door, his hand on my lower back.

Fuck, I like it there. It’s comforting while my stomach roils and sweat pools in my armpits. I haven’t seen Murphy outside of the club for months, and nerves send alternating currents of heat and chills through my body.

Aaron and I find our seats and Murphy stands as we approach, tilting his head in surprise to see me. The look on his face is almost humorous, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing. He knows damn well who Aaron is, and he never expected his stripper cousin by marriage to be on the sheriff’s arm.

“What do we have here? Lucy,” he says, nodding at me. “Sheriff Dwyer.”

Aaron shakes Murphy’s outstretched hand, but he also wipes it on his suit pants as we sit down. Aaron shivers like he has a chill. It must be hard for him to eat shit and sit across from a man you want to arrest. I’m impressed Aaron had the ability to make sure Murphy was seated at our table.

Murphy settles into his chair, and my eyes flick to his date. I’ve never seen her before, but a sex worker knows a sex worker. She’s in the industry. There’s a hardness in her face, and she looks like she’s here under duress…or the promise of payment. She’s obviously a hired escort.

Murphy looks respectable in his tuxedo. His dark hair is slicked back with hair gel, and his beard is trimmed. He doesn’t always trim it, so it’s obvious he made an effort. As I watch, he makes a fist, stares at Aaron, and cracks every knuckle on his hand with a leer. “When did this match happen?” Murphy asks, gesturing at Aaron.

“We dated in high school,” Aaron says before I can open my mouth to answer. I’m glad he’s going with the truth. It would be hard for me to remember a lie if Murphy ever brings it up at the club. I have enough lies and trash in my life I have to cover in my daily life. Although, there is a weight lifted off my shoulders now that Aaron knows about the money I owe the dead gangsters. “My wife died a year ago, and Lucy and I recently reconnected.”

Did we? Something like a warm glow moves from my toes to my breasts. Does Aaron consider us reconnected, or is this all a show?

“I see. Interesting choice for a sheriff.”

Aaron meets Murphy’s eyes and smiles. It’s not a real smile. It’s his fake one he only uses when he’s trying to keep from punching someone through a wall. I’ve only seen it on Aaron’s face a few times in my life. “Why do you say that, Beckett?”

Murphy shrugs. “You do know she’s still technically married to my cousin, right? She’s also a stripper.”

“And what do you do?” Aaron asks, turning to Murphy’s date.

Murphy puts his hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Don’t answer the sheriff.”

Total hooker.

The woman looks between all of us, confused, but Aaron brushes it aside and keeps going. His leg tenses under my hand when I place my hand on his thigh to keep him calm. He ignores it. “If you’re referring to the fact that Lucy strips to make ends meet after your cousin left her high and dry without a way to support herself months ago, I already know. I also don’t give a shit. Now that that’s out of the way, I hope we have a lovely evening. Dinner smells fantastic. I bet the starter isn’t turtle soup.”

Murphy stares at Aaron for a few moments, but we’re joined by the fire chief, the president of the library board, and her husband. Aaron makes small talk with each of them and ignores Murphy. Part of me wonders if Aaron knows that will bother Murphy, and a small smile creases my face as I make small talk with the fire chief’s wife when she arrives just before the salads are served.

Dinner is served in courses, and Aaron plays it cool through all of them, ignoring Murphy’s stare from across the table. The more Aaron hobnobs with the others at the table, the more Murphy shifts in his seat in agitation. Aaron’s clearly stealing Murphy’s shining moment to rub elbows with the area’s big wigs.

By the time dessert rolls around, Murphy’s face is beet red, and he squints across the table at Aaron as he goes out of his way to look happy and relaxed. Aaron’s arm is draped over my shoulder, and his warm thumb traces over to my collarbone, sending electric pulses to my clit, even as the guest speaker on stage delivers a heartfelt speech about turtles.

“How is business Murphy?” Aaron finally asks. “Remind me what you do again.”

Murphy practically glows that attention is finally on him. “I’m an entrepreneur. I have a couple of tailoring outfits and am an active member in the local motorcycle club.”

“Ah, that sounds interesting. Is it a hobby?” Aaron asks, cutting off a piece of his cheesecake.

“I’m the president of the club, so it requires a bit of my time. I’m surprised my cousin by marriage didn’t tell you I run the club.”

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