Page 32 of Crazy In Love (Secrets of Suburbi 3)

Noah was safely in the basement.

There was no blood. There's no blood, Ensley. I wasn’t a murderer. I wasn't a pervert. I was a kidnapper. Period.

His head was fine, just a little slow in the memory department. Even if he was quick to lie.

So what the hell am I touching? My eyes flew open. My hand was on Snuggle Muffins' snout and it was covered in...God. I had no idea what that sticky wet mess was. Saliva? Snot? "Snuggle Muffins, stop being gross."

He sighed.

"I'm only a kidnapper," I said out loud, but the chill didn't go away.

Snuggle Muffins didn't seem to have a reaction to my statement.

"What's on my hands?"

I swore he smiled. The little demon.

"Bad dog." I climbed out of bed and washed the mess off my hands. And for just a second, I thought I saw the water run red in the white ceramic sink. Stop. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I was just agitated. The questioning wasn't supposed to take this long. Noah was supposed to cave by now. But that didn't mean there needed to be any blood. I could do this another way.

When I looked back down at the sink, the water was clear once more. I splashed some water on my face. Everything's fine. I'll get my answers today. I'll end this today. And then I'd still have plenty of time for the last phase of my plan.

I walked back into the bedroom and Snuggle Muffins was standing on the corner of my bed, staring at the floor.

"Jump," I said.

Instead of jumping, he lay down on his back and put his tongue out.

"Come on." I patted my thighs. "Jump. You can do it. Your little old dog knees can take it, I know it."

He stuck his tongue out farther. He was the smartest dog in the world. I lifted him off the bed and put him down on the floor.

"Do you need to go for a walk?" I knew training him to pee in the litter box was probably a long process. And I didn't have time to be a good dog mom right now. I was in the middle of a felony. Besides, I didn't want to go visit Noah right now. He needed to stew in his lies. I still couldn't believe he lied to me just to see me in my underwear. As far as I was concerned, he could starve to death. I just needed to figure out where to bury his stinky body. You're a kidnapper, not a murderer.

Snuggle Muffins whimpered.

"Okay, let me just change real quick. I need to grab something while we're out anyway."

The alcohol I'd forced into Noah's mouth hadn't worked last night. His lips were decidedly unloose. Just soft. And delicious. And masterful in the kissing department. Stop.

Alcohol wasn't the only substance I had at my disposal though. The suburbs weren't as straight-laced as everyone thought. The proof? I was a kidnapper. A couple of my neighbors were notorious murderers. The kid down the street stole lawn gnomes. And the teenager across the street from me sold drugs. Welcome to suburbia.

***

I knocked on the door and waited. I knew Sylvia Smith was at yoga. And her son who decided not to go to college, to the shock of his parents, would be home. He was always home. I was pretty sure he didn't even have a retail job to cover the trail of his illicit business dealings. Such a novice.

I knocked again when he didn't answer. I glanced at my watch. It was almost 10 am. He'd surely gotten his eight hours in. Come on, Logan. Get up. I knocked harder. Sometimes a car with tinted windows would pick him up. But they'd always come back in a few minutes. Pretty sure it was his dealer. I knocked again.

Finally Logan answered the door. His eyes were bloodshot and he was wearing a silk robe like he was at the Playboy mansion. He had one arm behind his back, but when he realized it was me, he pulled the joint into view and put it back in his mouth. "'Sup?" The joint hung from the corner of his mouth. If he wasn't careful, he'd burn his mother's oriental rug.

"Hey, Logan..."

"My mom's not home. Can I take a message?"

"What?" Sylvia and I weren't friends who called on each other. We also didn't have parlors or drink afternoon tea. "No. I'm here to see you. I need to buy some of that." I pointed to the joint.

He stared at me as smoke swirled in front of his face. "What? A cigarette?"

Did he seriously think I was as naïve as his mother? I was a freaking criminal now. I was part of his cool club. "Weed. Pot. Whatever you call it. I need some."

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