Page 6 of Unchained
“Sounds like a pleasant man. That’s not Stevie Streeter, is it?” Her smile was worth the price of admission. Her eyes were a deep, dark-green, almost black. The gun she handed me had been placed in the cupholder between us.
“The one and only. Where we headed?”
“Definitely not to your place.” She hit Interstate 95 and headed north. “I have a place just off A1A on the beach. It’s secluded, and since I don’t think our cop friend was able to get the plate numbers, we should be okay. And no, I don’t always take strange men home.”
“You find me strange? Never heard that before.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Streeter finds out you’re helping me, and you’ll be next on his list.”
“Ever been to Key West?” she asked, ignoring my Streeter comment.
I shook my head. “Not really my thing.”
She chuckled and then took the next exit into Hollywood, Florida. “What is your thing?”
“I’m partial to women.”
She chuckled again, which I found somewhat annoying. I wasn’t trying to be funny.
We pulled down a long driveway flanked by palm trees, the road a bit bumpy, the scenery even in the darkness fantastic. When we rolled up to the house, I found my breath caught in my throat.
“Who the hell are you?” I glanced at the house again and shook my head. I’d been an attorney for ten years and never made the kind of money to support a home like the one in front of me.
“Give me your phone.”
“Fuck that!”
“They’re going to track your phone, numbnuts. Give me your phone.” She glared at me with those eyes, and I found myself suddenly handing over my phone. “Veronica Sims.”
“Bullshit.”
She laughed and pulled her license from her purse when we stopped next to the house. “The one and only.”
I stared at the license and then studied her. “The one who owns the cosmetic company?”
“Guilty.” She opened her door and got out. I followed, impressed by her, the Mercedes, and, of course, the house. “Feel safe now?”
I chuckled. “Trust me, I was never afraid.” It was the truth. I was either going to find Suzanne’s killer, or I was going to die trying. I was okay with either.
She opened the door, and the two of us entered—the house as immaculate on the inside as it was on the outside. She dropped her keys on the table by the front door and led me into the living room. The floor to ceiling windows gave an unabated view of the Atlantic Ocean. “Make yourself at home.”
I stood at the window but watched her leave the room, mesmerized by her ass, small waist and large breasts. I had the feeling she knew I was watching and intentionally slung her ass side to side. Glasses clanged in the kitchen, and moments later, she returned with two glasses of wine. As she approached, I found something very different about her. A sexiness most women struggled to exude. She handed me the glass and kicked off her shoes, tucking her legs under her ass when she sat on the couch.
The room remained dark, but I wasn’t sure why she kept it that way. The moon was bright over the ocean, so maybe she enjoyed the mood the large glowing ball created. I took a seat in the love seat across from her.
“Everything I’ve ever read about you described you as elusive and somewhat of a hermit.”
Veronica sipped her wine and then placed the glass on the table between us. I found her both seductive and attractive. “I keep my personal life out of every news cycle, and I chose to let those who work for me manage the day to day of my company. I hire people I can trust.”
“Your personal life took a strange twist tonight.” I finished my wine and placed my glass next to hers. “If that cop got your plate number, your personal life will be plastered across the headlines tomorrow.”
“He was too shook up to get the plate number, so I’m not concerned.” She nodded at the glass. “Would you like a refill?” I shook my head, and she then opened a wooden box sitting on the table. She removed a joint and lit one end while the other end was in her mouth.
“I’m with the district attorney’s office.”
Veronica shrugged. “You were with the D.A.’s office. And yet you killed three men tonight.”
