Love you to Death Read online

  Assuming there was any information to be had.

  Whether or not he was interested in dating, Elise still had a way of heating his blood. Trent took a drink of his soda, praying it would help cool him off.

  He wanted her, pure and simple. Not that he was going to do anything about it. There was no way he was going to take advantage of any woman when she was frantic and desperate, much less his neighbor’s sister.

  Maybe after they found Ashley and everything had calmed down…

  Nope. Not going to happen. Don’t even go there.

  Trent scanned the crowd, more out of habit than because he thought he’d actually find something useful. There were a lot of sexy women here. A lot of bare skin and glowing female curves.

  He wasn’t interested.

  Maybe he should let Mom set him up with Busty. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. He could make his mom happy and maybe even get laid in the bargain. It wasn’t a bad idea.

  After they found Ashley, that’s what he’d do. If Sam didn’t get to Busty first with his juvenile claim of “dibs.”

  Trent’s gaze went back to Elise. She was showing the three men at the table a photo of Ashley. One of them nodded and said something that made Elise hop up from the booth. She leaned down and hugged the man and then hurried off on those too-high heels, scanning the crowd.

  On the off chance that she was looking for him, Trent ditched his empty glass and made his way down the metal stairs, keeping her in his sights.

  A guy at the edge of the dance floor looped his arms over her neck and pulled her out into the mass of writhing bodies. Trent saw her trying to slip out of the man’s hold, but he’d wrangled her deeper into the crowd until she was caged in by dancers with no room to maneuver.

  Trent cleared the stairs, but without the advantage of higher ground, he could no longer see her. He pushed his way through the mass of sweating bodies, heading toward the last place he’d seen her. It took forever to move, and the urge to simply shove people away was nearly overwhelming.

  The only thing that kept him from doing just that was knowing that it would undoubtedly start a brawl, which would only make things worse for Elise. Not to mention it would get his ass thrown in jail.

  Wouldn’t Mom love that?

  He collected dozens of dirty looks from the dancers—the ones who weren’t already so high they didn’t even notice he was pushing them around. Finally, he spotted a flash of glowing blond curls against a shimmering dress. Another pair of dancers glared at him as he pushed past, but he didn’t give them a second look.

  Over the crowd, he saw the artificially black hair of the man who’d taken her, only five feet away.

  “Hey, watch where you’re going!” shouted a young man, barely audible over the pounding music.

  Trent ignored him and kept on wading through the mass.

  Finally, he saw her. The guy with her had one arm locked around her waist and was grinding his dick against her, pretending it was a dance move.

  Elise leaned back, trying to put some distance between them. Her hands were on his chest, pushing, but the guy didn’t seem to notice, or care. He’d covered her hands with one of his and was leering down at her.

  Elise’s eyes darted around as if looking for a means of escape. When she saw Trent, her gaze locked on his, begging for help.

  With pleasure.

  Trent squeezed past the last few dancers in his way and said, “Hey, baby. There you are.” He glanced at the asshole. “Find yourself a plaything?”

  Elise shook her head, her eyes wide with relief.

  Trent gave the asshole an expectant stare. “Sorry, buddy. The lady’s with me.”

  “Not right now she isn’t. I’ll give her back when I’m done.”

  Elise straightened her backbone and dug her fingernails into the asshole’s chest. “Done? Do I look like I don’t have an opinion?”

  “We’re having fun. Tell your boyfriend to go chill for a while and I’ll show you a really good time.”

  She laughed, and somehow the sound of her mockery rose up through the pounding beat. “I’m sorry, but the only thing you can show me is why I’m with a real man. Now. Let. Go.”

  “You heard her,” added Trent. “I’d rather not have to beat the hell out of you, but I will.”

  The asshole gave a derisive snort and lifted his hands from Elise’s body. “Whatever. She’s not worth the trouble.” He turned around and muscled his way through the crowd, knocking one drunken woman off her feet.

  “Thanks,” said Elise. Her voice shook, as did the rest of her.

  Trent was still running hot, anger burning low and steady inside him. “I told you this place was dangerous.”

  “And I believed you. That’s why I let you come.”

  “We’re sticking together from here on out.”

  “Yes, sir,” she snapped, but it didn’t have the same anger behind it as before. Her voice was still shaking too much to pull that off.

  An enthusiastic dancer bumped into Elise and she grabbed Trent’s arm to steady herself. The feel of her fingers on his skin swept through him in an unexpected rush of pleasure. It had been so long since he’d felt anything like it, he simply stood there, staring at the spot where her slender fingers met his tanned skin.

  “Sorry,” she said as she let go.

  Trent wanted to grab her hand and put it back, but he resisted. He wasn’t thinking clearly. His fear for Elise still pounded through him, bringing out his more primal urges—ones that had no place anywhere near her.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  “No, wait. I got a lead.”

  Another dancer jostled them, so Trent moved toward an empty spot along the wall. He maneuvered Elise so she had her back to the wall and put his back to the crowd to keep them from bumping into her.

  There wasn’t a lot of space, and they stood close enough that they could hear each other over the music. So close he could smell the sweet fragrance of her perfume and the underlying scent of warm woman. “What lead?”

  “One of the guys I danced with says he remembers seeing Ashley here Friday. He said she was with a man, and she left with him before the party really got started.”

  That would all fall in line with what they knew—she’d left before midnight.

  “Did he know the guy’s name?” asked Trent.

  “No. And he didn’t really remember what he looked like since he was so busy staring at Ashley. But he said that they have cameras all over this place, especially in the parking lot. I thought we might be able to get a look.”

  “We should tell Bob. Let him get a search warrant.”

  “What if they retape over old recordings? I don’t want to wait that long and take a chance that we might lose the evidence.”

  “If something happened to her and we find evidence, it might not be admissible in court.”

  “I don’t care about that. I only care about finding Ashley.”

  Trent knew she’d change her mind about court if Ashley had been hurt, or worse, but the desperation glowing in her pale eyes made it impossible to fight her. Not to mention the fact that finding a lead sooner might actually prevent the worst from happening. “I’ll go talk to the bartender.”

  “Let me do it. I’m less intimidating.”

  “I’m not going to intimidate him.”

  She raised her brow. “You may not try to, but you probably will. Besides, you catch more flies with honey. And cleavage.”

  Against his will, Trent’s eyes dropped to the low neckline of her dress. It wasn’t as scandalously low as the back, but it was low enough. He could see the swell of her breasts, gleaming with moisture. Whether it was the sweat of fear from being swept away by the asshole, or her body heating from all the dancing she’d done, he wasn’t sure. What he was sure about was that it made her glow like a beacon, trapping his gaze.

  The bartender had no hope.

  “Right. Honey.” Sweet and sticky, begging Trent to taste.

&n
bsp; His mouth had gone dry and he desperately needed another drink anyway. Time to hit the bar.

  Trent cleared a path the best he could. Elise clutched the back of his shirt, pressing herself against his spine to avoid being swept away by another asshole. He could feel the swell of her breasts brush against him every few steps, and remembered just how nice they’d felt against his chest, too. If he ever got the chance to have her pressed up against a wall again, he was going to take the time to enjoy it.

  His dick swelled and twitched below his belt, and he quickly moved his thoughts elsewhere before he got carried away and had to face Elise with an embarrassing hard-on. He wasn’t sure who it would be more embarrassing for, but he wasn’t exactly dying to find out.

  Like the rest of the place, the bar was crowded, and there wasn’t an empty seat to be had this time, so Trent found them a relatively open spot between two men. Nothing like being surrounded by burly guys to show off just how sweet and sexy Elise was.

  Honey. He was dying to watch her go to work on this guy, while simultaneously dreading it. He didn’t like the idea of her using her body to get information, but even more, he didn’t like the idea of her doing it with a guy who dyed his chest hair and oozed slimy intentions.

  Trent felt the change in her demeanor as she shimmied up between the seated men. Her movement went from a form of locomotion to something more silky and fluid. She gave each man flanking her a coy smile, then turned that smile on the bartender.

  He sloshed some vodka into a glass and shoved it in the general direction of the customer who’d ordered it. The whole while, he was leering at Elise, licking his lips.

  “Well, if it isn’t Miss Threesome,” he said.

  The men beside her both turned and stared at her as soon as they heard that.

  Trent was right behind her, close enough to touch, but not doing so, watching her face in the mirrored backsplash. Her grin widened and she leaned on the bar, pressing her breasts upward on display.

  “In the flesh,” she told him.

  “Lots of it, too. What can I get you, sugar?”

  “Tickets to your back room.”

  The bartender looked up at Trent, then back at her. “I only have one left.”

  Elise pouted, and if it wasn’t the sexiest damn thing Trent had ever seen, he didn’t know what was.

  “Spoilsport.”

  “Sorry. I’m not into guys.”

  “Then I’d make him watch. He likes to watch.”

  Holy shit. She was pushing too far, tempting fate, offering something Trent would never let her give.

  He put his hand on her bare back in silent warning. Supple muscles rippled under her skin as she straightened her spine, but she gave no indication that she’d understood his warning.

  Was she desperate enough to actually go through with her promise? Would she fuck this guy if it got her a peek at the security tapes?

  Desperate.

  Over Trent’s dead body. Either the guy would let her see them or he wouldn’t. Sex wasn’t going to change a thing.

  “We just want to talk,” said Trent, butting in before she got herself in too deep. “That’s it.”

  “Is this about that girl you’re looking for? I saw her picture on the news today.” He looked down at Elise. “I saw you, too. I know you’re just playing me with that whole threesome bit.”

  Elise moved back from the edge of the bar, taking her breasts off display. Thank God.

  The movement pressed her more fully against his palm until he could feel the delicate bones of her spine. Trent should have pulled away, but he couldn’t. He left his hand right there, bathing in the softness of her skin, the damp warmth her body was putting off.

  “Please, just give me a few minutes. I’ll pay you for your time,” said Elise.

  The bartender’s eyes brightened at the promise of cash, but he shook his head. “Sorry. I’m too busy tonight.”

  “Don’t they give you a break?”

  “Breaks don’t earn tips.”

  “I want to talk to the owner,” said Elise.

  “She’s out of town. I’m in charge.”

  It was a lie. Trent could smell the man’s deception all the way across the bar.

  “Please,” begged Elise. “My sister was in here Friday. She left with some guy and we need to see your security tapes.”

  “No way. Not without a warrant.”

  “What are you trying to hide?” asked Trent.

  “I’m not trying to hide anything. I’m trying to protect business. If I go letting you snoop through my tapes, it’ll drive away a lot of customers. Do you have any idea how many of the guys in here are married?”

  The man on Elise’s left stood up and moved away so fast he nearly knocked a waitress down.

  “See?” said the bartender. “You’re driving people away. Now leave or I’ll have you escorted out.”

  “If you kick us out, we’ll be coming back here with the cops,” warned Elise.

  “Fine, bring ’em on. Tell ’em to bring a warrant or I’ll kick them out, too.”

  They weren’t going to get anywhere like this. Trent took ahold of Elise’s arm and gave her a small tug. “Come on. We’ll call Bob and do this by the book.”

  Elise let him lead her back through the throng toward the door. “We need to tell him to hurry. I don’t trust that man not to destroy the evidence just to protect his cheating clientele.”

  “Neither do I.”

  Trent looked over his shoulder, and sure enough, the slimy bartender had gotten a waitress to take his place, and was headed toward a door marked “EMPLOYEES ONLY.”

  As soon as they got outside, Trent dialed Bob Tindle. Bob wasn’t going to enjoy getting another late call, but that was just too bad.

  Steve hated leaving voice mail, but he had no choice. “Just had a couple of people snooping around here, asking questions about the girl your brother was with Friday night. Smells like trouble. If you want to hear more, come to Sally’s. And bring plenty of cash.”

  He hung up the phone and it began to ring almost immediately.

  “Sally’s,” he answered.

  “Never leave a message like that for me again,” said the man on the line.

  Steve recognized his holier-than-thou tone in a heartbeat. Lawrence Maitland, the owner of one of the most well-respected funeral homes in the area. Word was he dabbled in more than just bodies, but Steve wasn’t stupid enough to repeat any of the gossip. He liked breathing too much.

  “Pick up your goddamn phone, then,” griped Steve. “You’re the one who asked me to keep an eye on your brother. Don’t go getting all pissy with me when I do what you asked.”

  “I offered to pay you. I expect you to behave in a professional manner.”

  “I called and told you within seconds of them leaving. That’s about as professional as you can get.”

  “Who was there?” asked Lawrence.

  “The girl’s sister and some guy. I’d bet money he’s a cop.”

  “What did they want?”

  “To see the security footage from Friday night.”

  “Gary was there?”

  “Yeah. He left here with a blond chick.” Gary liked blondes. Steve had never seen him with anyone else.

  There was a long silence on the end of the line before Lawrence came back on, issuing orders like he owned the place. “Destroy those tapes. Destroy any backups. If you have any receipts tying Gary to your establishment, destroy them as well. If this man was a cop, he’ll be back, and when he is, I don’t want there to be one scrap of evidence left for him to find.”

  “Whoa,” said Steve. “You’re not pulling me into this mess. I’m not destroying anything.”

  “How much?” asked Lawrence, his tone dripping with disdain.

  “Five grand. In cash. And I want it here tonight.”

  “Fine. I’ll have the delivery made before you close. But keep in mind that you’ll be asked to show proof you’ve already complied before payment is made.
”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll kill the video. He paid in cash, so that’s not an issue.” Gary Maitland always paid in cash, as did all the other people here who didn’t want a spouse to track them down.

  “Good. At least he wasn’t that stupid.”

  “This is the second time he’s walked away from my bar with a girl who never showed up again. I have no idea what he’s doing with these broads, but it can’t be good.”

  “That is none of your affair. I expect you to keep your mouth prudently shut.”

  Steve did not dare let the words “or else what?” leave his lips. He bit down on the smart-ass reply until he thought he’d draw blood. “I will.”

  “See that you do. I’ll be watching.”

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  CHAPTER SIX

  Detective Ed Woodward hated visits to the morgue. The chilly, sterile stench of the place never failed to turn his stomach.

  “Couldn’t this wait until morning?” he asked Dr. Foster.

  “Why? You got someplace better to be?”

  Dr. Foster looked younger than she was. She had to. There was no way they’d let a twenty-year-old perform autopsies. She didn’t even look old enough to have graduated college, much less med school.

  Her dark hair was tied back away from her face in a severe bun, and even though her eyes were devoid of makeup, she still had the longest, darkest eyelashes Ed had ever seen.

  “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  She looked up at him in jaded disbelief. “Hot date?”

  “Ball game on TV.”

  “Ah. TV. Haven’t watched it since I was a kid.”

  Ed bit back his reply that she still was a kid. “Just tell me what you’ve got, so I can get back to my worthless existence.”

  Dr. Foster pulled open a refrigerated drawer and extracted a tray like the one Ed had eaten lunch on today. She set it down on a stainless-steel table and carefully peeled back the white cloth covering the lumps on the tray.

  It was a severed hand. A woman’s severed hand. The flesh had barely started to decay, and the manicure was still perfect, glowing bloodred against the pale skin.

  Ed’s stomach heaved, but he kept his frozen pizza down. No way was he puking up his guts in front of the kid.