Page 70 of Sinful Promise
“Ghost? I don’t…” She looks to me. “I don’t know—”
“I guess that means Jason is going by the name Sam Wheat?” I ask instead. “Which makes him the romantic lead in her life.”
“You’d think so,” Randy teases. “But Patterson signs his emailsCarl Bruner.”
“Carl B…” I scowl now and look up at Fletch. “The best friend?”
“The best friend whokillsthe male lead,” he counters with a smirk. “I wonder if that means Molly’s already married or otherwise in a relationship with someone else.”
“If she is,” Minka drawls, “might I suggest you check in on him, too? He might’ve died from arsenic poisoning.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Aubree grumbles. “Molly is married to Sam, and Carl is the best friend. But Carl, for us, is Jason Patterson, the deceased—whoalsohas arsenic in his blood. If Molly wants to kill someone, don’t you think it’d be her Sam, and not the Carl she’s having a secret affair with?”
“Unless Carl has pissed her off.” Pushing up to stand, I circle my chair and slide it back in so it’s close to Minka’s desk. “We need to find Molly. She’s the connect here, since we’re pretty freakin’ sure Whitney Patterson didn’t kill her husband.”
“Though maybe she should’ve.” Minka looks me straight in the fucking eyes and continues, “He’s out there screwing around with the bimbo Molly. He’s throwing away their marriage, their life, their home, their family. And for what? A romp with a woman who is also probably in a committed relationship?”
“Stop burning me with your eyes.” I come around to her side of the desk, placing my body at her back. Then I grab her chin and yank her face up so her neck stretches and her throat bobs when she swallows. “I’m not looking elsewhere, Mayet. I’m not stepping outside our marriage. Hell, I’m not flirting with your sisters or spending time alone with them when they have no shirts on.”
Confused, she watches me upside down and frowns. “I don’t have sisters.”
“No, but I have brothers… every single one of which wants to fuck you. One of which wants to make you his mommy, and the other, you’ve touched his ass two days in a row, and worked on his bare abdomen while he lazed on our couch.” I drop a kiss to the center of her forehead, and grin. “You don’t hear me complaining.”
“I’m not stepping outside our marriage either.” Pulling her face from my hold and straightening her neck, she turns in her chair and looks up at me. “Cato needs to be sent off to military school or something. Boys only.”
Fletch moves away from her desk and wanders toward the door. “Thirsty men find a way, Delicious. They willalwaysfind a way.”
“And Tim doesn’t wanna bang me,” she argues instead. “He’s never hit on me.”
“No, but you were engaged that one time,” I joke. One last kiss, then I straighten out and carry my phone to the door. “Do you have anything to point us to Carl’s Molly?” I ask, since our call with Randy is still active. “You can’t even trace the owner of the email?”
“Working on it,” he protests. “These things take time. But she was pregnant.”
Fletch jolts from the blow of Randy’s words. “Who was pregnant?”
“Molly. Their final few emails were about the fetus. How far along she was. She and Patterson were arguing, because he told her to abort, and she wouldn’t.”
“Kinda difficult to keep cheating in secret when you’ve got a baby on the way,” Aubree snickers. “That’d throw a wrench in just about anyone’s plans, let alone a couple of kids who are sneaking off to get nookie.”
“They’re hardly kids,” Minka murmurs. “Patterson had a teen already. He was at an age he would have wanted life to calm down, not have a brand-new baby enter the mix.”
“Maybe he said he wanted the abortion,” Aubree theorizes. “Get rid of it and break up. Things had gotten out of hand, and what was only supposed to be casual sex turned into something so much bigger. That bigger thing was now a threat on the home and life he’d built with someone else.”
“That’d do it,” Fletch chuckles. Then to Randy, “So we know she was pregnant. And we know she likes Patrick Swayze movies. But we don’t know who she is?”
“No,” he confirms. “But we do know she has an appointment with her OBGYN on Monday at eleven.” He pauses, as if to leave room for his praise. “I figure you guys could stop in at the same time and find your girl.”
“Finding a pregnant chick doesn’t automatically mean we’ve found our killer,” I counter. “And even if it does, it doesn’t automatically mean we canproveshe’s a killer.”
“No,” Minka murmurs. “But it’s a good place to start.” Then, before we can leave, she lifts her chin toward my phone. “I wanna see the girl Fentone would have killed if he’d lived.” Her eyes are like steel, and her glare is hot like lava. “I want to know who lived because someone stepped in and did the right thing.”
“The right thing?” Fletch takes out his phone instead, knowing he’ll have gotten the same pictures as me. He smirks as he unlocks his screen and navigates to his messages. “The right thing is to put him in a cage, no? Cut his hands and cock off. We’re homicide cops, Delicious. We’re not allowed to—”
But then he stops. His body locks up tight, and his chest heaves with breath that can’t quiet escape his firmed lips. “Fuck.” Like a stack of wet cards, he drops into a crouch and smacks a hand to his mouth. “Motherfucker.”
“What?” Minka shoves up from her desk and charges our way as I lower too.
He’s my best friend. He’s my brother. He’s the best fucking person I ever knew before I met my wife. If he hurts, I hurt.
