Stephanie Tyler - Vipers Run

“I think you’re a miracle worker.” I only wished Cage was there to take me the rest of the way.

I must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, I heard semiangry men’s voices. I blinked to see Cage standing over me and Tenn practically underneath me. Tenn was lying there, and I was half on his chest. He’d been watching a movie.

Well, porn. A porn movie.

“You’re lucky I know which way you swing,” Cage muttered to him.

“Maybe I’m bi and never told you,” Tenn shot back as he remained curled around me.

“I will fucking kill you.”

“Try it, old man,” Tenn said, and instead of upsetting me, their interaction made me laugh. Tenn turned to me. “Are you laughing at us?”

“Completely.”

“Huh. See if I ever defend your honor,” Tenn said with fake insult.

“It’s the first time you’ve laughed in days,” Cage said quietly. I held out a hand to him, to pull him down. Once he was settled next to me, Rocco called through the door and walked in.

“Bedroom,” Tenn called and Rocco found us. And the porn. And grinned.

“What’s up, Roc?” Tenn asked, like he owned the place. I didn’t care, because Cage was holding me. I ran a hand along his arm, because I saw something red.

“Paint,” he told me.

But before I could question him more, Rocco said, “There’s trouble down at the clubhouse. Flores wants to talk to Calla. I figured you’d rather meet her there than here.”

“She can come here,” Cage said.

“I can go to the clubhouse,” I told him.

“Forget it.”

“I can’t avoid it forever.”

“Good thing it hasn’t been forever, then,” he told me.

Rocco left and returned in a few minutes to let us know that everyone was on their way.

“Everyone?” I asked.

“Flores, that partner of hers—Dom something . . .”

“Her partner’s a Dom?” Tenn asked.

“Not a Dom—his name’s Dom,” Cage told him, and I snorted. Rocco perched on the edge of the bed, then lay down across the width at our feet, and that’s how Preacher found us. Watching porn.

“Why are you watching gay porn?” he asked.

“It’s a threesome,” Rocco pointed out.

Preacher muttered something like “Jesus fucking Christ” and then there was an official-sounding rap on the door. “She wouldn’t tell me what it was about. Insisted on seeing you, Calla.”

I got up with the rest of them, reluctantly. Tenn turned off the TV and walked with me toward the couch as Cage let the detectives in.

I noted that Rocco walked out then, probably to guard the door. Which I appreciated. I’d had enough surprises.

At least I thought I had.

Detective Flores and, yes, Detective Dom came forward with serious faces. “Calla, I’d like to speak with you alone, please.”

“No,” Cage and Tenn said in unison. And Preacher too.

“It’s all right,” I told them. “It’s not like you’ll be far, right?”

“It’s either here or the station,” Flores said.

“Do I need a lawyer?” I asked.

“Do you feel like you need one?” she shot back.

“Yes.”

“Rocco!” Preacher shouted. He peeked in and Preacher pointed at me. “She’s lawyered up.”

Rocco came in and sat down next to me.

“You’re a lawyer?” Flores asked him, before I could.

“Yes, ma’am. Member of the South Carolina bar.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card to hand to her. “Calla, I’ll tell you what not to answer, all right?”

I nodded. Cage and Tenn and Preacher moved off toward the kitchen. Flores took a seat across from me, while her partner stood.

“Where was Cage Owens last night?” she asked me pointedly when I was looking at her dead-on.

My gaze didn’t waver as I lied. “He was with me.”

“All night?”

I smiled. “Yes, all night.”

“I suppose that’s what you’ll tell me about every night this week,” Flores said.

“What’s this all about, Detective?” Rocco asked. “If you want to question Cage, please do so, but my client’s answered your question. Did you come all this way to ask that?” Rocco, who’d just been watching a threesome, was as professional as I’d ever heard anyone, especially if I didn’t look at the skull and crossbones T-shirt he was wearing.

Flores didn’t pull any further punches, telling me, “Ned Benson’s been murdered.”

My mouth opened. Closed. I put my fingers over my eyes for a long moment. While there was no love lost between my brother and me, he was still my brother. My head spun and Rocco put a hand on my shoulder. When I looked back up, Dom was handing me water. I took a small sip and then asked, “How? Why?”

“When was the last time you’d seen or heard from your brother, Calla?”

“Don’t answer that. Is she a suspect, Detective?” Rocco asked.

“It’s a simple question.”

It was. “I haven’t seen or heard from him in years.”

“Years?”

“At least three.”

“Satisfied?” Rocco asked.

“Where was he when you found him?”

“He was staying in a motel close to the Georgia border,” Flores said.

He’d been that close to here? Was that a coincidence?

“So you and your brother weren’t close, then?”

“Not particularly,” I told her.

“Any reason?”

I knew better than to answer, because even in my slight state of shock I knew that I had a solid reason to want to hurt Ned. People had killed for a lot less than money.

But she was flipping through that damned pad of hers. “Ned Benson stole money that was earmarked for you after your grandmother died. He also forged your signature on the bar’s deed, sold it and pocketed the money.”

I didn’t say a word.

“All of that on its own would be enough to make me suspect you,” she continued. “But there’s another piece of evidence that makes it slightly more damning. Because we found some pictures on his computer—of you, Calla.”

I glared at her. Blurted out, “Those are private. You’re not allowed to see those,” even as Rocco put a hand on my arm.

“They’re evidence now. Motive.”

I looked up. “Motive?”

“He was extorting money from your father. Threatening to go to the papers and put these all over YouTube if Mr. Bradley didn’t pay up.”

But he did, I wanted to tell her. I kept my mouth shut instead.

“Did you check Ned’s bank account?”

“Yes, we did.”

“And?” Rocco asked.

“A large transfer of funds was made a month ago.”

“I’m not seeing the issue here, Detective.”

“The issue is that Cage Owens killed Ned Benson for Calla. I’d accuse Jameson Bradley, but he’s got an airtight alibi.”

“He could’ve hired someone,” Rocco pointed out, throwing my father under the bus.

“I considered that. But Cage Owens was seen at the motel this week, by an FBI agent who’s been part of an undercover sting. I think he makes a very credible witness.”

“He’s wrong,” I said, my voice hollow and raw. “Please go.”

“I have more questions.”

“They’ll have to wait,” Rocco told her, then called for Cage, who was next to me in seconds, even as Flores was telling me, “We can do this down at the station.”

“Is Calla being charged with something?” Cage asked.

“Not yet.” Not yet . Oh my God. “You’ll most likely be charged together.”

“Get the hell out of my house, Detective.” Cage’s voice was a growl, enough to make Flores start a little. And I figured it took a hell of a lot for that to happen.

When she’d gone, Cage came over to me. Rocco had disappeared into the kitchen with Tenn and Preacher to tell them what happened, I figured.