Foxy Roxy Part 19

"I think Monica chose to turn a blind eye."

"Until she found out about Kaylee, and then she lit a match." Roxy slid the car through a stop sign and drove into a park. "Maybe she's the one who paid the Delaneys to take potshots at Kaylee. They're got to be lying. She has the most to gain from Julius's death, right? The wife gets half of everything and the kids fight over the rest?"

"That's usually how it goes, but not in this tax bracket. Monica won't go hungry, though, that's for sure."

"Except she torched the house. That has to jeopardize her piece of the family pie, surely."

"Depends. Quentin is focused on the price of Hyde Communications stock, which is affected by bad publicity. As long as Monica is kept under wraps, the stock price is good. But once his brother is buried and a decent interval is past, Quentin will go back to gobbling up any small communications company he can get his hands on. For which he will need capital. And he'll want Monica's share of Julius's inheritance. That's my guess, anyway. He's sticking close to her now and making a show of caring about her, but she's going to be a grease spot on his driveway before it's all over."

"So Quentin's a viable suspect, too. He wanted Julius's share of the estate."

"And he has the right personality."

"He could pull a trigger?"

"Yes," Henry said. "I think he could. For all his Wall Street talk, he's basically a b.a.s.t.a.r.d who'll do anything to build his empire."

"Another CEO with a heart of gold." In a murmur, Roxy added, "His brother Trey always needs money, too."

"But does Trey have the stomach for killing?"

"For him," Roxy said, "it would have been panic, more likely. He's emotional, impulsive. The kind of guy who wouldn't plan a murder. But only an idiot would try to pull off an execution will all those people around. Maybe it wasn't planned at all. Maybe it was a crime of pa.s.sion."

"Monica's impulsive. As setting fire to the house shows."

Roxy turned to him. "Could she have killed her husband?"

"If angry enough, maybe."

"Kaylee could have been angry enough," Roxy said.

"Oh?"

"She's a hot-tempered chick." Then Roxy shook her head. "But I don't see her having the stones to shoot her boyfriend. I see a lot of women who get in over their head with men. Hardly any of them can pull the trigger. Maybe she had some kind of conspiracy going with Trey, though. Jeez, they all have motives. It makes me dizzy."

Henry sighed. "Everybody wants Dorothy's money. And she's not even dead yet. Funny, because she's the one who'd be easiest to kill. A pillow over her face, and poof! You'd have your inheritance."

Roxy glanced at him measuringly.

Henry caught himself, chagrined to find he'd mused so much aloud.

Roxy gave him a cold smile. "Interesting how the other half lives."

"Don't pretend the people in your world don't squabble about money."

"Sure, we fight about money. And for us, it's just as important, maybe more. But our everyday concerns are more about the work we do, the people we know, the family we protect. Not about which brother or sister we can screw over to get what we want. Even those lying sc.u.mbags, the Delaneys. See them? Together through thick and thin. Not like the Hyde brothers."

Roxy braked the car and pulled over onto a gra.s.sy area. In the distance, the buildings of the downtown rose between a gap in the trees, looking like a storybook city. None of the grit showed from this distance. Around the car, rolling hillsides converged on the curving asphalt road. Closer, the ivory towers of a couple of universities glowed. It was a bucolic spot in the middle of the city.

"Where are we?" he asked.

Roxy shut off the engine and unfastened her seat belt. She said. "A park. I come here to let off steam."

Henry turned to face her. "What kind of steam?"

She grinned. "I'm not exactly America's Sweetheart. I like s.e.x. That doesn't surprise you." She rolled down her window and spat out her gum. Rolling it back up, she said, "Sometimes I take guys to my house. Sometimes, I go to theirs. But some afternoons, I've been known to come here."

He felt himself respond at once. She must have guessed, because she smiled. "I could take care of business in the car, Henry, but that would be all about you. It's too cramped for me to get what I want. I need more s.p.a.ce."

"You have this kind of rendezvous well ch.o.r.eographed. Is the gum part of your routine?"

She unzipped her leather jacket and let it fall open. "I don't like bad breath."

Henry could imagine what her mouth would taste like right now. How her strong body might feel against his. He could see her contemplating the same about him. In a few seconds, he wasn't going to be able to conceal his willingness to try.

With a smile, he said, "If you're trying to turn me on, you win."

She reached over and unfastened the top b.u.t.ton on his s.h.i.+rt, allowing her fingertips to linger at his throat. "Here's what I'm saying, Henry. If you come around again, we could make each other feel good and have some laughs. But I don't fall in love or let any man use me-for s.e.xual gratification or whatever you're trying to learn about the murder. If that's cool for you, okay. If not, this is good-bye."

The fact that she kept her emotions out of the way was enough incentive for Henry to spit the gum out of his mouth. He stuck it on the gear s.h.i.+ft and reached for her. "I could be cool with that."

She met him halfway. She had a lush mouth and a sure tongue. Her curves felt softer than he expected, and a ripple of warmth seemed to pa.s.s through her body as he touched her. Hot-blooded, that was Roxy Abruzzo. Even better, a laugh bubbled in her throat. And he liked thinking maybe she could lose her cool head just a little with him.

"What the h.e.l.l," she said. "C'mon, Henry."

She had a condom, and she made a show of putting it in her mouth. She held it poised for a heartbeat between her teeth, her eyes alight. He hardly felt it slip on, so swiftly did it happen, with the mane of her hair in his lap and the suction of her mouth exquisitely strong. Everything happened very fast after that. Instinct told him to hold her head to guide her, but there was no need. He was out of his league. Instead he held on to the car for dear life while she performed an intensely powerful act. In the middle of it, Henry heard a whimper and realized it was his.

No stardust and angels singing celestial praise. Just mind-bending, top quality s.e.xual performance.

When he was on the brink of nuclear detonation, she sat up and crawled over the gear s.h.i.+ft, telling him what she intended to do next in a husky voice and laughing at his expression. Probably one of near delirium. While he braced himself, Roxy slid one long leg out of her jeans and neatly straddled him. Henry groaned as she sank down on him, hot and sweet. She was a female force against his belly, her thighs gripping his, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s firm against his chest. Supple and powerful, she was an animal. He was her prey.

He forgot to be a partner, forgot about what she might prefer, and let it happen. His hands on her tight a.s.s, that was all, he gasped for breath and hoped he'd survive.

He came too fast, of course, before she'd found a rhythm that pleased her, and when he remembered himself, Henry felt the heat leave his p.e.n.i.s and flush his face instead.

She didn't seem to mind. She hadn't broken a sweat, but she smiled against his mouth anyway.

"Interesting." She rocked back on him, keeping him snug inside with admirable muscle control. But Henry felt trapped, actually. And both of her hands were linked around his neck as if she considered whether or not she should snap a few vertebrae as long as she was in the neighborhood.

He tried to sound collected. "Interesting?"

"Yeah."

She released him slowly, perhaps to prove she was still in control. And when she was behind the steering wheel again, he was left to the embarra.s.sing business of putting himself back together. All while trying to catch his breath.

She said, "I learned something about you, Henry."

Part of him felt as if he'd been tricked. Like his brain had been sucked dry, not the rest of him. Nervously, he wondered what exactly she'd figured out.

Another part of him just wanted to roll over and go to sleep.

13.

Arden's phone rang several times during the day, but she couldn't manage to wake herself up in time to answer it. Finally, though, her bladder insisted she get out of bed, and when she dragged herself out of the bathroom, the phone was ringing again, so she picked up.

"Arden?" The silky voice of Hadrian Sloan-Whitaker purred in her ear. "I have some news for you."

"News?" Arden collapsed on the bed again and racked her fuzzy brain to find some context. A sliver of suns.h.i.+ne glowed at the bottom of her window shades, but she had no clue what time it might be.

"Yes, I put my ear to the ground as you suggested, and there's definitely a seismic s.h.i.+ft going on."

"An earthquake?"

"Nothing that significant yet. But a buzz."

What the h.e.l.l was he talking about?

He said, "Someone contacted me through my Facebook account. Someone asking about antiquities."

"You have a Facebook account?"

"Leave no stone unturned," Hadrian said. "I embrace all technologies that put me in touch with people. We texted for a while and I then realized I may have been inadvertently communicating with the party you wanted to reach. She's asking all the right questions."

Arden groped a random capsule from her nightstand and swallowed it dry.

Hadrian continued. "She wants to know about Greek statuary, perhaps second century BC. She's very cagey, but I put two and two together. I wonder if she is someone with knowledge about your grandmother's collection. It might be best if you were in touch with this prospect yourself." After a pause, Hadrian sounded pained. "I sense she thinks I might be a s.e.xual predator of some unpleasant kind."

The information finally began to penetrate her fog. Arden dragged herself to a sitting position. "What did she say about the statue?"

"Nothing specific, but she's definitely fis.h.i.+ng. I suspect she's in possession of something very valuable. Either that, or she's looking to acquire. Either way, it's good. For us."

Since when were they an "us"? Arden remembered her own plan and didn't recall Hadrian being a part of it. "What did you tell her?"

"I gave some basic historical information, but it was clear she already knew a thing or two. She mentioned Pittsburgh, and that's when the penny dropped. Arden, if I put you in touch with this person, you'll remember me when the time comes, won't you?"

"When what time-? Oh, of course, Hadrian." Suddenly she liked the note of fawning in his voice.

"I'd like a shot at placing your item."

Arden said coolly, "With a museum?"

Hadrian barely held back a here-we-go-again sigh. "If an inst.i.tution of origin is in a position to pay the going rate, of course we should consider its offers. But we'd certainly do better by-"

"You know how I feel about private collectors, Hadrian. If an important piece falls into the hands of dilettantes who simply warehouse history, the whole world suffers."

"I know, I know," he soothed. "Arguing is moot if there's nothing in our hands yet, don't you agree?"

"Ye-es," Arden said slowly.

"So talk to my contact. See what you can learn."

"All right. Give me the phone number."

"Promise you'll report back to me?"

"I promise."

Arden copied down the phone number Hadrian dictated, then sat staring at it long after she terminated the call. Who was this contact? A collector? A scholar at the local museum, perhaps? Or someone more sinister? Sage Abruzzo. Arden didn't recognize the name.

She would need to have all her wits when she made the phone call.

Arden began sorting through her pill bottles. If she was going to pull this off, she needed to mix the right combo to sharpen her mind.

14.

After dropping off Henry Paxton at his car, Roxy discovered he had stolen the crucifix from around her neck.

Somehow during their interlude in the park, he'd managed to distract her and snitch it. And the whole time she'd mistaken him for a weakling.

"You naughty boy," she said aloud, one hand on her throat. "This could mean war."

Or something much more delicious.

Stealing her necklace showed he had more juice than she'd first thought. She liked the guy. Didn't trust him-especially now that he'd paid her back for lifting his wallet-but she liked him. He had a good laugh and a nice body-two qualities Roxy especially appreciated in a man. Too bad he had a brain, but that was a fault she could overlook. The s.e.x had been barely acceptable for her, but after all, she had ambushed him. Given different circ.u.mstances, he'd be better. Stealing her crucifix showed that, surely. A weekend in a hotel with him to find out sounded pretty d.a.m.n good. Maybe after Nooch's hearing.

Her phone beeped-a text message from Adasha Was.h.i.+ngton.

Free for dinner? Adasha asked.

With a pang of guilt, Roxy decided not to respond.

She closed her phone hastily. She didn't want to tell her friend about car s.e.x with Henry. She wasn't sure why.