Body Movers 4 - 4 Bodies and a Funeral (29 page)

precinct and locked up his bike, he was craving a hit, bad.

From his backpack his phone rang. He pul ed it out to see

Liz’s number come up on the screen. Connecting the call,

he answered, “Yeah.”

“You’re late,” Liz chided.

“I just got here.”

“I’m in Jack’s office, come on back.”

He walked into the building, went through a metal

detector and down the hall to enter the lobby of the

precinct. When he walked in, the lady behind the Plexiglas

window looked up. Her name tag read “Brooklyn” and her

body language read “don’t eff with me.”

“Wel , aren’t you just as cute as a June bug?” she said,

looking him up and down. “What can I do for you, sugar?”

“Uh, Wesley Wren to see Detective Jack Terry.”

“Wren? You any kin to Carlotta Wren?”

“She’s my sister.”

“Good girl, that one. Go on over to that door and I’l buzz

you in. Somebody on the other side wil tel you how to

find Detective Terry.”

He went through the door and ran a shaky hand through

his hair. He needed a haircut and a breath mint and he

probably looked like crap. The OxyContin in his backpack

was calling to him. It would calm his jumpy nerves and get

rid of the headache hammering at his skul . But Meg’s

smug expression kept him from giving in.

Loser…loser…loser.

Once inside, he stopped at a vending machine and bought

a can of Diet Coke because it packed a bigger caffeine

punch than regular Coke. He cracked it open and sucked it

down in three gulps, then asked for directions to Jack’s

office.

As it turned out, Jack and Liz were waiting for him in an

interview room, along with the mousy Assistant District

Attorney, Cheryl Meriwether. Jack looked like he’d been

run over by a truck and Liz looked sexy as hel in a snug

skirt and a blouse with a deep V that showed off her great

knockers.

“Glad you could make it,” Jack said, his voice thick with

sarcasm.

“We could’ve talked about this over breakfast this morning

at my house and saved us both some time,” Wesley

offered. Predictably, Liz shot Jack a look, assuming he’d

spent the night there.

Jack glowered. “Sit down.”

Wes sat and clasped his knees under the table, trying to

look like a good boy.

“A.D.A. Meriwether and your attorney fil ed me in on the

expectations that were discussed in your meeting with the

D.A. Basical y, you’re to infiltrate Hol is Carver’s

organization in an effort to find out if and how deeply he

might be involved in drug distribution, especially heroin.

I’l be your contact for any information you hear. And I’l

pass along things you should be looking out for.”

Wesley nodded.

“The key to all this, of course, is getting you into the

organization in the first place.”

“I got that covered,” Wes said.

Jack’s eyes went wide. “What do you mean?”

“Wel , it’s no secret that I owe the man money. So when

one of his col ection agents came calling a couple of days

ago, I convinced him to let me help him col ect from

another client to help pay down my debt.” He shrugged.

“Things went wel , and he said he’d put in a good word for

me with The Carver.”

Jack nodded, seemingly impressed. “Okay. Good. Who’s

the guy you worked with?”

“I only know the big fathead as Mouse.”

“Yeah, I know who he is,” Jack said.

“Jack,” Liz said, “I’m concerned about Wesley working with

these thugs. That animal already carved his name into

Wesley’s arm.”

“Not his entire name,” Wesley offered.

Jack frowned. “Is that what happened when you

disappeared a few weeks ago?”

Wes nodded.

“Show him,” Liz said.

He unbuttoned his shirt and took his arm out of his sleeve

to show the red, taut crisscrosses of scars. Jack grimaced.

“Damn.”

“See what I’m saying?” Liz said. “I don’t want him in there

any longer than necessary.”

“I hear you,” Jack said. “But from where I’m sitting, this is a

good deal for everybody.” He looked at Wesley. “Be smart

about this and you just might be able to walk away with a

clean slate.”

Wes thought about the severed finger wrapped in his

jacket in Mouse’s trunk. “What if they ask me to do

something…bad?”

“They’l probably give you a phone so they can call you

whenever they need you. We’l have a GPS chip installed

inside it. If you find yourself in a situation you can’t get out

of, all you have to do is call me and we’l come to you.”

Wesley nodded. “Sounds simple enough.” Assuming he

had time to get a call off before the bul ets started flying.

“When do you expect to hear back from this Mouse

character?” Cheryl Meriwether asked Wesley.

“He’ll turn up in a couple of days.”

“I’l wait to hear from you,” Jack said. “Are we done here?”

Everyone nodded and pushed to their feet. As the two

women made their way to the door, Jack leaned into Wes

and murmured, “It goes without saying that Carlotta can’t

know anything about this.”

Wes looked up. “Duh.”

“You don’t have to be a smart-ass.”

“Right back at you, Detective. See you at breakfast?”

Jack scowled. “Get the hel out of here.”

Wes walked out of the building with Liz and the A.D.A. The

women talked about shoes and complimented each

other’s perfume. Liz sent her best wishes to Kelvin Lucas,

but even the A.D.A. looked pained at the mention of her

boss. After Cheryl Meriwether split off toward her car, Liz

turned and smiled at him.

“Where are you headed?”

He shrugged. “Nowhere.”

“Come home with me.”

Liz rarely asked, just commanded. But after Meg’s snub

earlier today, Wesley’s ego needed a stroke. His gaze

dropped to Liz’s cleavage and his cock started climbing.

“Wil my bike fit in your trunk?”

“We’ll make it work.”

His bike was too big, but he used his tie to secure the trunk

lid, then jumped into the passenger seat of Liz’s red

convertible Jag. She didn’t have the top down, but it was

stil a sweet ride. Liz was on the phone the entire drive

back to her place, tying up loose ends for the week.

Wesley’s dick was hard in anticipation, but his stomach

was in knots, his mind rewinding to Meg’s snarky

comment.

You could be my boyfriend if you’d straighten up.

What would that be like? He’d never had a steady

girlfriend. Would that mean screwing whenever they

wanted, or would she make him wait? Would he have to

meet her parents? Would she give him grief about playing

cards and hanging out with Chance? And what if his

working for The Carver put her in danger?

“We’re here,” Liz announced, pul ing into the driveway of

her posh home. Not that he’d seen anything other than

the guesthouse. “Go ahead and get your bike out of the

trunk before I pul into the garage.”

So he could leave afterward without disturbing her—that

was cool.

When they walked into the shady guesthouse, his head

was stil pounding and his shirt stuck to his sweaty back.

His mind was ful of Meg, his thoughts bouncing around

like a pinball. He wouldn’t take the Oxy…he wouldn’t…he’d

show her…

“I’l pour us a drink if you want to shower,” Liz said, pul ing

her blouse from her skirt.

“Sure,” he said. He hadn’t had anything to drink for a while

because Chance had warned him about taking Oxy with

alcohol. He walked into the bathroom and set his backpack

on a fussy chair. The Oxy was in there, waiting for him.

Sudden anger bil owed in his chest toward the holier-than-

thou Meg Vincent. Who did she think she was, announcing

that she would let him be her boyfriend if only he did what

she said? He reached in his backpack for a tablet.

Adrenaline flooded his body at the mere feel of the pil

between his fingers.

“I changed my mind about the drink,” he called out the

door. “Can I have iced tea instead?”

“No problem.”

He tossed the pil into his mouth, then chewed, breaking

the bitter time-release coating that guaranteed the ful

effect of the drug would be dumped into his system all at

once. He sighed as sweet ecstasy seeped through his body.

His headache vanished, his hands stopped shaking, and

the fussy chair suddenly looked beautiful. He climbed into

the shower and was aware of every exquisite drop of

water fal ing over him like magic fingers.

When he stepped out, he felt invincible, not even taking

the time to dry off before rol ing on a condom and

crawling on top of Liz in her bed. Her protests were

fleeting, ending when he drove his dick into her, hard and

fast, just the way she liked it.

She played with herself, then guided his hand down to her

crotch to take over. All that work on a pencil eraser

computer mouse came in handy as he finessed her clit like

a little joystick. With the other hand he tweaked her

nipples.

“Easy,” she murmured. “They’re tender today.”

She had big, firm boobs, and fantastic, long legs. He

wanted to stay between her thighs forever. Every thrust

was a jab at Meg…he’d show her…

His balls tightened with an impending climax. “Come on,”

he urged, and put some extra effort into it so they’d finish

together. Liz bucked beneath him and screamed like he

was murdering her. He took that as a good sign and blew

his load like a water pump—feeling vindicated with every

stroke. Triumphant, he rol ed to her side and lay there,

allowing the Oxy to carry him along on a euphoric

recovery. Everything in the world was right and good…and

fuchsia.

Liz propped herself up on her elbow and ran a long

fingernail over his chest. “I’ve missed you.”

He grunted in response, wanting to enjoy his high by

expending as little effort as possible.

“Wesley, I’ve been thinking a lot about Randolph lately.

Have you and Carlotta considered having your parents

declared legally dead?”

His eyes popped open. “What?”

“I’m only thinking of you. It might be nice to have some

closure.”

Laughter bubbled in his chest, the good feeling amplified

by the Oxy. “Liz, if I tel you something, you can’t tel

anyone.”

“I won’t,” she murmured.

“Dad’s alive. He talked to Carlotta in person only a few

weeks ago.”

Her jaw dropped. “You’re kidding. When?”

“Remember when you and Jack came tearing into the rest

area in Florida? A few minutes before then, Carlotta was at

the vending machines and Dad walked up to her in

disguise.”

She sat up and covered her mouth. “Oh, Wesley,

that’s…that’s wonderful news! Where has he been? Is he

okay?”

“He didn’t say where he’d been, but Carlotta said he

seemed okay. He told her that he’d been keeping tabs on

us. He also said he was gathering evidence to prove he’d

been framed and that he’d be in touch soon.” Wesley

smiled, happy to be talking about happy things and feeling

so…happy.

“I can’t believe it,” she murmured. “I always thought he’d

come back someday.”

“Won’t that be great? You can’t say anything, though.”

“Don’t worry. But you’l keep me posted?”

“Sure.” He closed his eyes…life was good.

“So, cowboy…who’s Meg?”

His eyes flew open again. “What?”

“Meg. You said her name when we were having sex.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” She gave a little laugh. “Relax. I don’t mind,

I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“I don’t know a Meg,” he lied.

“Okay, sweetie, whatever you say.” She lay back down

with a sigh and a few minutes later, she was asleep,

probably fueled by the empty martini glass sitting on the

nightstand.

Wesley sat up and cursed under his breath. He’d said

Meg’s name while he was dril ing Liz? Damn, what a buzz

kil er. He reached for the glass of iced tea that Liz had

poured for him and downed it.

You missed the best part of the evening…taking me

home…you could be my boyfriend…you could be my

boyfriend…you could be my boyfriend…

Annoyed at Meg for intruding on his thoughts and at

himself for giving in and taking the Oxy, he pushed to his

feet and backtracked to the bathroom to dress. Liz didn’t

stir as he let himself out through the French doors.

Walking to his bike, he pul ed out his phone and dialed

Chance.

“Yo,” his friend answered. The guy was breathing hard and

in the background, Wesley could hear the droning noise of

the treadmil .

“It’s Wes, what are you doing?”

“Working out and getting high,” Chance said, his voice

tight from holding his breath. Then he exhaled noisily.

“And I just got off the phone with Grimes. He’s supposed

to call me back with details of a card game tomorrow

night. Can you do it?”

“Sure,” Wes said, not sure at all with everything he had

going on.

“Good. Are you coming over?”

“Yeah, I’l be there in a few minutes.”

“Wait until you see me, dude—I’ve lost two pounds. You