Body Rocks [The Andersons 3] (Siren Publishing Classic) (18 page)

“Are you going to follow them?”

“No.”

“No?” Rafferty sounded surprised.

“No,” Carrick repeated.

“You know, the staker position in Brisbane is still open. The job’s yours. Take it.”

Carrick stared as Daniel backed the VW Beetle out from under the carport and then drove down the street. As it disappeared out of sight, he came to a decision. He turned to Rafferty. The expression his friend sported was like that of a great white shark circling its prey, ready for the kill. He kept his own expression neutral. “Okay, I’ll go to Brisbane. Be the Federation’s version of
Buffy
.”

“But without the tits,” Rafferty added with a wide shark-like smile.

Carrick allowed his friend to wallow in victory for all of one second. “But first—tomorrow—I’m gonna drop in and say hi to my brother.”

Rafferty’s despairing groan was loud and long and made Carrick laugh.

Across the street at Daniel’s house, same time.

Samantha was a minx, Daniel decided while he watched her expertly move around his kitchen preparing a late cooked breakfast worthy of five thousand hungry kings. She started humming to a song playing over the radio. He sipped his third espresso and smiled at Madonna’s “Like a Virgin.”

Yep, Samantha was definitely a minx. The day before, they’d gone to Disneyland in Orange County, where rather embarrassingly he’d puked up his nachos after one of the rides. She’d laughed so hysterically he’d thought the men in the white coats would arrive and cart her off. He couldn’t remember the exact ride, though a flying elephant seemed to ring a bell.

Of course, and in a mutually beneficial way, he’d gotten his own back. She’d shared his “Mile-High Club” fantasy, so it was only right that he ask for one of hers. She told him that hers was for a man to make tender love to her in the traditional missionary style all night long.

And when they’d returned from Disneyland, and with another new supply of condoms, that’s exactly what he’d done. He’d lost count of the number of times she’d come apart in his arms, her soft mewls of delight forever burned in his head and his heart.

Which, in turn, was the reason for the late breakfast. Should really be brunch, because it was now noon. He’d taken the all-night part of her fantasy well into the morning. 10:00 a.m. to be precise. And if he was surviving on less than two hours’ sleep and three espressos, then fucked if he knew what Samantha was surviving on. He hoped it was love. She had a lovely rosy glow to her cheeks, and her beautiful emerald-green eyes sparkled with life and laughter.

Daniel didn’t want anything to erase that laughter, which was why he was glad that the subject of visiting Hollywood Police Station hadn’t surfaced. He certainly wouldn’t be bringing it up, but suspected it was only a matter of time before Samantha said something. When she did, he felt fairly confident he’d be able to come up with a suitable and believable excuse for not going. But then again, maybe seeing Joe Richards and Frank Walsh wouldn’t be the death of his and Samantha’s relationship after all. Both might keep their mouths firmly zipped.

Yeah, right! And I’m gonna be crushed flat by my earthquake-proof house.

“How many slices of fried bread do you want, Daniel?” Samantha asked, bringing Daniel back to the heavenly smells of fried bacon wafting around his kitchen and the fact that Samantha wore a cock-hardening, baby-pink, thigh-length, silk chemise. Bought from a local charity store, it was almost identical to the one in the lingerie boutique on Rodeo Drive.

“Four.” Placing his cup on the counter, Daniel walked up behind Samantha and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing a light kiss to her nape. He rested his chin on her shoulder. “I’m surprised you haven’t gagged,” he remarked, eyeing the plateful of bacon, eggs, mushrooms, and baked beans that sat beside the stove. “For me, fried bacon smells like heaven, but for you, it must be hell.”

She shrugged as she added four slices of bread to the pan. “I’m used to it, really. There’s always been the smell of meat in our house. Mom, Ross, and Matt aren’t vegetarians, and with Mom not being good in the kitchen, Dad had to do the cooking.”

“Your dad sure can cook,” he said, remembering some of the mouthwatering dishes he’d had on previous visits. “Then again, that vegetarian chili your mom dished up wasn’t that bad. In fact, it was very tasty.”

Samantha flipped the bread over with a spatula. “She’s been having lessons from Charlotte Coy, Emily’s mom.”

“Ah, more tasty food,” he said, now remembering the fabulous pastries and cakes sold at CC’s Coffee Shop. He pressed another kiss to Samantha’s nape. “It obviously doesn’t bother you with me not being a veggie.”

“Why would it? It’s never been a problem for my family, so why should it be with us, Daniel?”

“‘Us.’ I like the sound of that, baby.”

“Me, too.” For a moment, she leaned back into him, pressing her ass against his hard cock. Then, lifting the fried bread from the pan, she positioned each slice in a neat stack and then presented the whole plate to him. “Breakfast is served. Eat.”

“Yes, ma’am.” With a mock salute and a quick, hard kiss to her lips, Daniel took his plate to the compact two-chair dining table set against the wall. She joined him with a bowl of diced fruit and a separate carton of plain yogurt. His cock stiffened further, and he thanked his insight for choosing a pair of sweatpants. He might have seriously injured his chances of future parenthood if he’d been wearing jeans.

“Want to share another fantasy today?” he asked, eyeing the way she covered a chunk of melon with yogurt. A couple of pineapple rings placed on her breasts and her nipples topped with yogurt would make a tasty starter.

She ate the melon and selected a strawberry. “What does it consist of? More role-play?”

“Fruit, yogurt, honey, ice cream. Perhaps that bottle of wine I bought. I want to lick it all off your beautiful body.”

Her eyes lit up. “Is that why you asked at the store when we went if the honey was suitable for vegetarians? So I could return the favor and lick it off your body?” She gave a coy smile, and almost as if she’d read his mind, added, “I’m glad I didn’t dice all the pineapple. There must be somewhere on your body where a ring would fit over.”

Daniel laughed out loud. “Oh, I’m sure we’d find somewhere.”

“Mmm, maybe tonight, Daniel.” She licked a tiny speck of yogurt from the corner of her mouth, and Daniel groaned, his cock so hard it hurt. “I’d like to go see Frank and Joe.”

His fantasy popped like a pinprick to a balloon, his cock deflating just as quick. Since his brain had also malfunctioned in that he couldn’t think of a single excuse not to go, he instead crammed a forkful of food into his mouth and chewed very slowly.

A low rumbling then sounded, and his house shook for a few seconds. Samantha again eyed his swaying kayak with concern.

“Is that…” she began.

“Safe as my earthquake-proof house,” he finished. He grinned. “These tremors are exactly the reason why Mom and Dad live in New York. Dad’s scared witless of earthquakes. Frank is always ribbing Dad about the time he found him cowering beneath a desk at the station. There hadn’t been an earthquake though. It was a bunch of workers outside digging up the sidewalk with pneumatic drills!”

Samantha laughed. “I haven’t heard that story before. Let’s go and see Frank, Daniel. Please.”

“Sure, baby.” Daniel crammed another forkful of food into his mouth. Christ, he’d walked straight into that one. He inwardly grimaced. He strongly suspected the past was set to explode in his face.

* * * *

As was the norm on a Friday, indeed, any day of the week, Frank Walsh was at his desk arguing with the wiry and dour-faced Lieutenant Joe Richards about his heavy workload. Smartly dressed in police civilian uniform, his long, flaxen hair tied back in a neat ponytail, Walsh had worked at the Hollywood Station for as long as anybody could remember. Indeed, his coworkers often said he’d been born at his desk.

Walsh was damned good at his job. Over the years, many of the detectives he’d worked alongside had suggested his sharp mind and methodical approach would stand him in good stead as a detective. However, Walsh had refused to make the switch from civilian to cop because he favored the nine-to-fiver routine. Basically, that was a load of crock, because he was often found at his desk well into the evening and, on occasion, the early hours of the morning.

When the phone call came through from the front desk announcing the arrival of Daniel and Samantha, Walsh told the sergeant to send them up. He then relaxed back in his chair, picked up a mug of long-cooled coffee, and waited. Richards pasted his butt on the corner of Walsh’s desk and also waited.

The swing door opened. Walsh’s mug froze halfway to his mouth. He’d never believed in ghosts. Until now. A shiver darted down his spine as he stared at the man in the doorway. He was immediately transported back thirty years, for Daniel Ferris was the mirror image of Sam Carrick. Another shiver darted down his spine when he switched his gaze to Samantha. She was the mirror image of a young Jess.

“Holy Moses!” Richards murmured, as he, too, must have been transported back thirty years.

“Nope, the name’s Daniel Ferris.” Daniel grinned and clapped Walsh on the back, dislodging his stunned expression. “How’s it hanging, Frank?”

“To the left as always. You?”

“To the left, right, and center.”

“Just like your brother, Sam—er, I mean your father, Ray, you’re a real bighead,” Walsh quickly corrected himself. Judging by Samantha’s stunned expression, though, it wasn’t quick enough.

* * * *

Daniel could have quite happily punched Walsh’s lights out. Not that it was Walsh’s fault for revealing a family secret that he probably thought everybody, including Samantha, had been informed of. Walsh knew the Ferrises and the Andersons were close.

Nor was it Walsh’s fault for the realization now dawning on Samantha’s face. It was obvious she’d quickly and correctly put Ray Ferris plus Sam Carrick and Daniel Ferris equals father and sons. He silently cursed his stupidity. He should have told her. And now he was going to pay the price. Big time.

“Actually, Sam’s my half brother. Not that it makes any difference.” Daniel shook his head and planted his hands on his hips. “Christ, all these years you two knew, yet you never said anything.”

“It wasn’t their place to, Daniel.”

The underlining sharpness in Samantha’s tone was difficult to miss. Daniel stole a quick glance at her. Uh-oh. Those sparkling emerald-green eyes of hers were like twin laser beams. Heat rolled off of her in waves, and they weren’t waves of the sexual kind, either. More like the rumblings of a pending volcanic eruption.

“When did you find out?” Richards asked Samantha.

“Oh, all of two seconds ago.”

“And you, Daniel?”

“Just before I went to Manila. Two months now.” Daniel afforded another quick glance at Samantha. Uh-oh indeed, but he blew out a breath and pressed on. “Obviously you two remember him. What was he like? Dad’s reluctant to talk about him, and I wouldn’t dare ask Sammy’s mother.”

“Me, neither,” Samantha chimed in, her tone a little less sharp but a lot more derisive. “I feel like I can’t even ask why their photo is gone from our mantel. One day it was there, the next, poof, gone.”

Walsh frowned. “What photo?”

“It was taken about thirty years ago. Mom’s wearing her uniform and is standing behind Sam. The smile on his face reminds me of the one you give when you’re thinking about your wild fantasies,” she told Daniel, throwing him a pout. “The smile of the cat that’s got the cream, the canary, and a whole ball of wool.”

Daniel didn’t think sarcasm suited Samantha, but even so that cynical pout of hers made him feel like six inches tall. “Hey, my mind is as pure as the driven snow. Like I said, baby, I’m an angel.” He blew her a kiss to try to diffuse her anger, but her icy glare cut him down to three inches. Shit, strike him down now. He deserved it.

Richards exchanged raised-eyebrow looks with Walsh. “I think I know the photo you’re talking about.” He turned to Walsh. “You took it to include it in an article you were writing about on civilians within the PD.”

“I did,” Walsh gaped. “How the hell do you remember that?”

“Photographic memory,” Richards deadpanned.

“What was Sam like?” Daniel again asked.

“Well, if you haven’t already guessed, you remind us of him,” Walsh replied. “And not just in looks, either. Your whole personality is Sam. I’m just surprised you’re not a cop.”

“I left the dangerous job of crime busting to Jessica. It was her dream to become a PI and take over Dad’s agency.”

“‘The dangerous job of crime busting.’ I like that,” Richards said. “I would have thought being a geologist equals the hazards of being a cop, what with earthquakes and volcanoes and God knows what else our little planet likes to chuck at us.”

“You’ve been watching too many disaster films,” Daniel said, grinning. “Most of my time is spent in an office predicting when our planet is gonna chuck. Apart from Manila, I’m not usually within a thousand miles of a major earthquake or a volcanic eruption. Not unless you count when my dad erupts.”