Burning Bed Read online

  Which meant that Garret hadn’t ever discussed their time together, much less what she’d asked of him. Or if he did, Zach was a nicer guy than any woman had ever given him credit for.

  The last one of Garret’s friends climbed in their vehicle and drove off.

  Her pulse soared like a peak reaching toward the bright-blue sky poking through a thick layer of clouds that hid the sun. Right now, she resented how the tall, muscular, sexy fireman made her want to forget her troubles in his strong arms for a night of what she knew would be more thrilling than the first time she parasailed off the top of a mountain in the Alps.

  But she couldn’t let her brother’s death be in vain. She would finish what he started, even if it was the last thing she did.

  Ding. Dong.

  She jumped up from the sofa, adjusting her top as she tried to take her time answering the door. Garret had a way of making her feel like a seventeen-year-old girl, not a twenty-eight-year-old woman. His quiet, shy demeanor only added to the allure. He was the kind of man that you just knew, once you got past his awkwardness, would be a passionate and adoring lover. He would be the kind of boyfriend that when he gave his heart, it would yours forever.

  And the kind of man that could steal hers with a mere glance.

  Opening the door, she plastered on her best smile. “Thanks for coming over. I appreciate it.”

  “My pleasure. What do you need?” He rubbed at his tired, dark-russet eyes. His five-o’clock shadow in full spicy-scruff mode made his face seem innocent with a touch of a sweet devil.

  She could only imagine what it would be like to have to work a twenty-four-hour shift. She could barely work ten hours in a day without falling over from exhaustion. “I need you to look at two things for me.”

  “Okay.”

  She turned to avoid giving him the once-over, but she found it impossible not to look. His shoulders weren’t overly broad, but they were well-defined. His biceps bulged through his white T-shirt and oh, how his jeans hung on his hips. A tad baggy, but she could still see the definition in his thigh muscles.

  Not to mention his tight ass.

  Sculptors used his body for inspiration.

  “Where are we going?” he asked as she stepped into her family room.

  “I want you to look at my back door and tell me if you think someone might have tried to break in.” She leaned against the counter and folded her arms, knowing she was closing herself off. Her attraction to him only got in the way. Besides, he didn’t believe her.

  So, why had she asked him over?

  He stood two feet from her, hands on his hips, staring. “Why do you think that?” His tone was neither aggressive, nor sensitive.

  If anything, it was indifferent.

  “I thought I heard something last night in the backyard. I turned on all the lights and called the cops, who did nothing, of course. But when I opened the door this morning, it looked damaged.”

  “What did the police say?”

  “They walked around the yard and inside the house. They also took a report and said it was possible that someone tried to jimmy the door, but they found no other evidence.” While they had said all that, the one cop looked at her like she had ten heads. When she asked if they could dust for prints, he practically rolled his eyes. However, his partner did so, just in case, but said since the house was fifty years old, the damage could be wear and tear. That said, the door itself couldn’t be more than ten years old and the lock about the same.

  “All right. Let me look.” Garret lowered himself to the floor and examined the lock. His long fingers ran across the wood. His biceps flexed with his effortless movement. He concentrated on that door almost as well as she concentrated on every inch of his body.

  She found herself biting down on her fingernail and letting out an audible sigh. Her body even shuddered with a warm tingle going places that, thankfully, he couldn’t see.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Can you get me a screwdriver, both flat and Phillips head?”

  “No problem.” She padded around the kitchen counter to the closet by the garage door and pulled out a small toolkit. With shaky fingers, she set it on the floor. “I think that should have everything you need.”

  He nodded, flipping open the top. “You’re the owner, right?”

  “Yes.” She narrowed her eyes, glancing over his shoulder as he unscrewed the plate on the side of the door. “Why?”

  He pressed into the frayed wood. “It’s not rotted and based on looking at the back side, I’d say someone tried to pry the door open, so now it’s been weakened.” He quickly put the plate back on and stood, reaching out, pressing his large hand against the wall. “I’d replace the entire thing. It’s a standard door, so I’m sure a place like Home Repairs has it.”

  “But you think someone could have tried to break in?” She desperately needed one person to believe her.

  “It’s possible, but it doesn’t mean it happened last night. It could have been before you bought the house. But even so, there have been a couple of break-ins in the neighborhood. Why don’t you have a deadbolt? This doorknob lock is useless.”

  She shrugged. “I kept saying I’d get a new lock. Just never did.”

  “You said you’re working from home today?”

  She nodded, trying to keep the drool from dripping out of the corner of her mouth. She wanted to reach up and run her fingertips over the day-old growth on the sides of his face. Most mornings, she’d see him all clean-shaven, which gave him a sophisticated rich boy look like he should be leaning against a private jet in a power suit.

  However, she preferred the outdoorsy type, and the man standing in front of her now should be wearing a flannel shirt, unbuttoned, and riding a horse.

  “I plan on it, unless something happens, and I have to go out.”

  “Perfect. I’ll go get the right door and a much better lock. Have you considered putting in a couple of security cameras?”

  She shook her head, letting her mind drift from doing the dirty with Mr. Hot Buns to the second reason she’d wanted him to stop by.

  “They are easy to install, and you can control them from an app on your phone. Do you want me to get that done today as well?” He pushed off the wall and rested his ass against the counter, leaning back and crossing his ankles. He had a few wrinkles around the eyes and a scar on the bottom of the chin, and those slight imperfections made him even more decadent.

  “I don’t want to put you out. Besides you must be exhausted, so I can hire—”

  “It will be weeks before you’ll get a handyman out here. I’ve got nothing going on, so no biggie, and I promise my fee will be really low.”

  She arched a brow. “And what might that be?”

  He scratched the side of his head. His light-brown hair flowed a little over his ear, but he normally kept his hair short on the sides, a smidgen longer on top, and it was always a little messy, like someone had ran their fingers through the strands and ruffled them.

  “For the door? Dinner would work. And for the lock and deadbolt, I think a nice bottle of wine would be good payment.”

  She laughed. “And for the security cameras?”

  “A stroll to Timmy’s Treats for some ice cream, since this will probably take a few hours.”

  “It’s a deal,” she said, shoving out her hand. Though she should have thought about it and then made him put a dollar value on the work, but then she figured they could talk about the things she found on the computer.

  “You mentioned there were two things you wanted to show me?”

  If she told him now, he might get pissed and walk out of her house, not helping her with the door. “We can talk about that over dinner.”

  “Sounds good.” He rested his hands on her shoulders, massaging gently.

  Oh, how she wanted to feel those fingers digging into her flesh.

  Sucking in a slow breath, she filled her lungs with what smelled like crisp air on top of a mountain on a foggy day with a
slight drizzle trickling from the hazy sky. “I really appreciate the help.”

  “It’s the least I can do for letting my idiot friend come over and hit on you.”

  She tilted her head. “That’s what he said? Because all he did was give me his condolences for my brother.”

  Garret licked his full lips. She stared as his tongue slowly glided over the plump flesh. “Zach can be a good guy when he wants to be.”

  “He took out a friend of mine once. It didn’t end well for her. You know, I’ll call you later, never calls, and then she finds out he’s dating some girl she works with.”

  “He’s going to run out of women willing to date him.”

  Without thinking too much about how her actions could be taken, she looped her arms around his middle. His tight muscles twitched under her touch. “I’m sorry I got so mad at you when all you’ve ever done is help me. But I think after you read something I found on my brother’s computer, you might think like I do.”

  He drew his lips into a tight line. “I know you’re hurting, but—”

  “Just read it. That’s all I ask.” She held her breath, staring into his dreamy, rich mocha orbs that reminded her of the river of chocolate in the movie Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, and she wanted to jump in naked for a nice, warm bath, letting him coat her skin.

  “I’m really sorry about what happened to your brother, and I’m here for you if you need anything, so yes, I’ll read it. But don’t expect me to give you the answers you want to hear. I won’t do that. I will, however, always be honest with my opinion.”

  She dropped her forehead to his firm chest, focusing on the rise and fall of his breath. “My brother was a lot of things, drug addict included, but I told you he was worried something might happen to him.”

  “That could be paranoia caused by drug use.”

  “I know it could be, but I know my brother and he wasn’t using the last time I saw him.”

  His hands ran up and down her arms before he gripped her forearms, taking a step back. “I read those reports three times. There is nothing hinky about them.”

  “But did you talk to—”

  “I’m going to go get my tools, take some measurements, and head to the store. We can talk about this tonight.”

  “I’d rather pay you cash. You’re going to side with your own and not consider the possibility that maybe someone in the local police or fire department, or even higher up could be corrupt and capable—”

  “Trust me. I know some bad people in my profession. One of my own tried to kill my buddy Brodie and his wife, so don’t you dare make that assumption of me. I looked at everything you asked me to with a watchful eye. I tried to find foul play, but it’s just not there. Now, excuse me while I take care of your door, and then I’ll read whatever it is, and I’ll treat it the same way I did the last time.” He let out a big huff before turning and stomping out of the kitchen. “I won’t take your money, but I will need to eat.”

  She clenched her fists, then shook them out with a violent whip of her wrists. The media had made a mockery of her brother’s death the second she started questioning the reports. They dug up every wrongdoing he’d ever been caught in but didn’t once look at the good things he’d done, or how he’d begun to turn his life around.

  He didn’t overdose on drugs and accidentally burn his house down.

  And she was going to prove it with or without Garret’s help.

  Chapter 3

  “Thank you. That was delicious.” Garret pushed his plate to the side while Tabitha shoved a laptop in his face. She’d been sitting across from him through the entire dinner, tapping her foot erratically on the tile floor. He’d barely had a chance to enjoy the penne pasta with a white cream sauce and some chicken.

  Her cooking was about as good as going home just for his mom’s cuisine.

  “Glad you liked it.” She snagged the plate, nearly dropping the utensils on his lap. She’d barely spoken and when she did, it was like little daggers were being shot out of her mouth and stabbing him in the heart.

  “What am I looking at?” He could only imagine the grief she must be experiencing. In a way, he understood why she’d pushed herself to believe her brother had been murdered. She’d mentioned to him more than once how proud she’d been that he was finally moving forward with his life.

  But often, people fell back on old, bad habits, and her brother had been a bit of a deadbeat with no real goals for a long time.

  At least according to the stories she’d told him.

  “Some of my brother’s notes I found on his laptop. The weird thing is, it starts out as a letter to me.” He glanced over the screen, catching a glimpse of her backside while she did the dishes. Her round hips filled out her mini-skirt and her legs, damn they went on forever.

  But it wasn’t only her pretty face and hot body that Garret liked. Tabitha could hold her end of an intelligent conversation. She had to be the smartest person in any room.

  And kind.

  He’d watched her on more than one occasion go out of her way to help a neighbor. She had a heart of gold.

  But she also had the kind of sheer determination that once she went after something, she’d never let go, and in the case of her brother, she was going to need to find a way to move past all this.

  The least he could do was look at the documents.

  Tabitha,

  If you’re reading this, then a couple of things happened. You looked under your bed, which you never do, not even to clean, and found my laptop, and I’m still alive and we might laugh over this.

  Or not.

  Or. I’m injured, and I told you about the laptop.

  Or, more than likely, I’m dead and you do what you always do when you’re upset, you clean.

  “You don’t clean under your bed?” He lifted his eyelids.

  “That’s what you’re focusing on?”

  He shook his head. “No. I’m asking because of what your brother said about what you do when you’re upset.”

  “My garage is spotless, every closet has been organized, and my bathrooms have never been cleaner, but I hadn’t gotten to moving furniture and cleaning under it.” She cocked her head. “Read on.”

  It starts with the incident at Ivan Moore’s residence, a local businessman. He resides on Windjammer Point which is located on Merritt Island. I’ve been to the house when I was dating Ashley, who is friends with his daughter, but I only met the man in passing. I didn’t have any real contact with him.

  It was suspected a few years back that Ivan Moore was involved in securities fraud and embezzlement. That accusation seems to have disappeared about a year after his son-in-law became an Assistant District Attorney.

  A year ago, the police were called to the residence during a party when my ex-girlfriend took ill. The story is that Ashley Hanover died of anaphylactic shock after consuming a dish she was unaware had peanuts, and she’d forgotten her EpiPen that evening.

  I call bullshit. Ashley never went anywhere without that thing and the Moore’s knew about her allergies. She was also deathly allergic to shellfish and bee stings.

  “You didn’t tell me any of this when your brother died.” Actually, all she had said when her brother died was that someone killed him because he didn’t do drugs, so no way could he have overdosed. Nothing about the party, or his friend.

  Tabitha waved a bottle of wine.

  He nodded.

  “I didn’t know anything about this until I found his laptop under my bed this morning.”

  “When the hell did he put it there and why?” he asked, taking the glass of red wine she offered. He swirled the rich liquid, letting it hug the sides before taking a long sniff. The thick, rich, dry scent hit his nostrils with the force of a gust of wind. Nothing beat a nice Cab.

  “I assumed when he came by two days before he died, telling me if anything happened to him, it wouldn’t have been an accident.” She sat next to him, setting the bottle on the table. “I only
saw it because I finally got to cleaning under my bed.” Her sarcastic tone wasn’t lost on him.

  “What was she doing at Moore’s house the day she died?”

  “First, she’s good friends with his daughter Lisa, according to Steve. And she worked for Mr. Moore for a couple of summers. My guess is that she was helping my brother with this story.”

  “He’s been working on it for over a year?”

  “I guess. I mean, he’s been writing articles for the last eighteen months, and he’s told me in the past, that some took months and months to collect all the information needed to make it so the editor would accept it. The last time I talked to him, he had five stories on his desk.”

  “Sounds like a hard way to make a living.” Garret rolled his neck. “So, your brother thought they put peanuts in her food intentionally?”

  “That’s the thought.”

  “But why?”

  “Not exactly sure, but it gets better. Keep reading.” With a delicate touch of her finger, she smoothed a strand of hair behind her ears as she raised one leg, resting her heel on the chair, hugging her knee with one hand, holding a flute of wine in the other.

  He turned his attention back to the computer screen.

  I managed to snag an interview with Sandra Creeco about six months ago. She was the receptionist at Moore Industries. She had also attended the party the night Ashley died. She had told Ashley to back off the digging and poking into Moore’s business dealings. That she was going to get herself in trouble. After Ashley died, Sandra became more suspicious and started looking for information on her own, keeping me in the loop.

  She was killed in a freak car accident three days after she contacted me letting me know she found something. Said she was going to either bring it by, or maybe mail it to me.

  I have no idea what that something was. I never got it. I tried going to her house, but her roommate wouldn’t let me in. Slammed the door in my face. She won’t take my calls. I’m concerned for her safety if she has anything or knows anything.