DarkestSin (11 page)

“I-I don’t think so.” She shook her head, picking up her
soda and drinking thirstily.

“Why?” Roxie’s lower lip actually fell into a pout, but then
her eyes narrowed. “Is it because of Brutus? You still haven’t told me what
happened with him. Did he let you play find the sausage?” She laughed, and Xan
had to cover her mouth to keep from spewing her Dr. Pepper.

“You’re crazy,” she said, chuckling. “He came by to tell me
my car was ready. I told you that already.”

“You’re no fun.” She harrumphed. “But come out with me
tomorrow night, and I’ll make sure you have the time of your life.”

“I’ll pass,” Xan said, turning to watch the game, thankful
it was starting back up.

She already had one man she didn’t fully understand. She
could do without a horde of them falling drunk all over her.

* * * * *

Brody stared at his computer screen, researching the agents
Gage had found who’d worked Xan’s case back in the day. Jack Parsons had been a
model employee, excelling on all his reports. He’d worried it was a sign of
overachievement to cover the star agent’s dirty work, but he was a pessimist
and couldn’t find anything to even hint at the agent being the mole. Jack
Parsons had been a bust, but Brody was actually a little relieved by this. He
hated the idea of her current agent being on the take.

Dave Simmons, on the other hand, was shady. He’d been her
first agent after Collins got sent away to prison, and after much digging,
Brody found out that the guy had actually put her and Scott in Prairie County,
Arkansas for her first move. Besides that being a little funny, considering she
wasn’t much of a country girl, it seemed odd since that was where Agent Simmons
was originally from. He’d resigned a couple of years after placing her there,
retiring to a farm in none other than Prairie County, Arkansas. Why put his
ward someplace where she could be connected to him? That was only one question.
His other question was why did the guy’s bank account show a $250,000 deposit
two weeks before his retirement? Those two things put the guy on Brody’s short
list of suspects.

He kept researching the names of guys assigned to her.
There’d been ten of them at one time. He’d found enough information on Charlie
Bevin, Ezekiel Ramon, Adam Perry, William Bowers, Brian Warner, Mike Shannon
and Henry Walker to feel confident that they’d had nothing to do with Collins
finding out about Xan turning evidence. Those guys had either initiated or led
major arrests in similar cases and were either now politicians with strong
platforms against crime, retired after more years of service, or supervised
departments. Of course, arresting members of other crime families could’ve been
a smoke screen, a diversion while working for Collins, but none of those guys
had any suspicious money in their accounts or any other links to Collins.

Jeff Coleman, Luke Riley and Paul Sellers, on the other
hand, warranted a deeper investigation. Brody couldn’t find any information on
any of these guys since Collins’ attempt on Xan’s life. Realizing he needed
help, he pulled out his cell and hit Gage’s number.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Hey, man. I’m going over these guys you told me about and
need some help. I got three targets I can’t nail down. Can you see what you can
find?”

“No problem. Names?”

“Jeff Coleman, Luke Riley and Paul Sellers.”

There was a brief pause of silence, and Brody assumed it was
because Gage was writing down the info.

“What about the others?”

“They check out. At least enough for me. What about you?
Find anything questionable on any of them?”

“Nope. So far they’re clean, but I hadn’t got to the three
you named or Charlie Bevin and Adam Perry.”

“Bevin’s a town mayor and Perry heads up the child
pornography division at the FBI. I think they’re clean. Let’s look at these
other three.”

“You got it. Oh, before I forget,” Gage said suddenly. “Mimi
Rochelle stopped by the shop after you left. Said she needed help with her
garbage disposal. Wanted
you
to do it.” He chuckled.

Brody sighed. “I’ll take a look at it tomorrow.”

“Be nice to her, man. She’s lonely,” Gage chided.

She wasn’t lonely. She was a loner. Big difference. She’d
come to terms with her husband’s death several years ago. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll
catch ya later.”

Brody hung up and stalked to his kitchen for a beer. He
didn’t have time to fool with a garbage disposal. He had to find those other
three missing agents.

And maybe squeeze in a visit to Former Agent Dave Simmons in
Prairie County, Arkansas.

Xan awoke to the sounds of birds chirping and the sun
shining through the cracks of her window blinds. She wasn’t much of a morning
person, but she felt lighter than she had in years. She rolled over, stretching
her lazy body and looked dreamily at the clock.

Noon? She jerked into a sitting position. Shit, no wonder
she felt good. She’d slept for twelve hours.

She hopped out of the bed, grabbing her robe and rushing to
the bathroom. Her car was ready, so she wanted to make sure she looked perfect
when she picked it up.

Because she’d get to see Brody. She wasn’t in denial as to
why she wanted to look good.

She took a quick shower, scrubbing her body, shaving her
legs and washing her hair, then threw on her robe and began her search for the
perfect outfit. Skirt? No, too obvious. Jeans? Too dang hot. Capris? Too soccer
momish. Shorty slut-girl shorts? Hmmm, just right. She paired it with a
lightweight, fitted tee to tone down the effect and some comfy sandals. She
dried her hair, fixing it just right, hoping the humidity wouldn’t demolish all
her hard work, and put on some makeup, praying she wouldn’t sweat it off before
she got there.

She walked down the hall, hearing Scott playing his new
video game. She knocked on his door and opened it when he called out.

“Hey, I’m going to pick up the car. You want anything while
I’m out?”

“No, I’m straight.”

Huh? That was out of nowhere. What did his sexual
orientation have to do with anything? She’d already figured out he was straight
because he had a girlfriend. Maybe he was overcompensating and wasn’t really
into girls? She gave him a puzzled look while he concentrated on his game,
thinking she needed to have a mother-son moment. “Sweetheart,” she whispered,
stepping into his room. “I hope you know it wouldn’t matter to me if you were
gay, though I’m pleased you feel comfortable talking to me about your sexual
preference.” She paused, waving her finger. “But you’re too young to have sex,
regardless if it’s with a girl or another guy.”

Scott’s head shot up. “What are you talking about, Mom? I’m not
gay. What made you think to ask me that?”

Her brow furrowed. “You just blurted you were straight for
no reason, Scott.”

He busted out laughing. “You’re such a dork, Mom. That means
I’m fine.”

“Oh,” she muttered, feeling a blush tinge her cheeks. “Okay,
well, I’m off.” No reason to stand around and be the butt of a teenage joke. No
doubt he’d be laughing about this with Chad later.

She made her exit and got into her rental, humming to
herself as she drove the short distance to the garage. When she arrived, she
parked the car next to the overhead doors, noticing Brody’s Harley parked under
a tree, and got out. Clutching her purse, she strode into the lobby and looked
around. She heard the sounds of hydraulic lifts and those air gun thingies
she’d seen on NASCAR when the cars were in the pits getting their tires
changed. There was also some rock music blaring in the background, someone else
she’d never heard of, reminding her of her ride in Brody’s truck, making her
smile.

She hoped she didn’t look too obvious as she scoped out the
place, searching for her Viking, but when her eyes connected to Roc’s, she
quickly jerked away. She didn’t know what it was about him, but he made her
feel uneasy. She chanced another look at the bays, seeing him walk this way.

Shit.

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders as he
neared.

He stepped up to her, handing her an envelope, which
jingled. She opened it and glanced inside. It was an invoice and her keys. Her
heart sank as she looked up at him, wondering why he was tending to her and not
Brody.

“What was wrong with it?” she asked, staring him straight in
the eye. She wouldn’t let him see her disappointment.

“Radiator. Among many other things. It’s all in the
invoice.”

She nodded, holding out the rental keys. “Here. Bro—er—Brutus
said I could just leave the rental here.”

He took the keys and nodded. He stared coldly at her, but
then his lips turned into a sneer. “I’ll take ’em. Brody’s over at Mimi’s.”

“Mimi?” she breathed, not meaning to, but trying to process
the words he’d said.

“Yeah, he goes over there a lot, though I don’t think he’s
been over much since you hit town. Mimi must’ve noticed the coincidence because
she came up here yesterday while he was giving you the news ’bout your car. She
left word for him, and he went running over.” Roc shoved his hands in his
pockets and rocked back on his heels, giving her an evil smile. “He left this
morning and ain’t been back.”

She only thought her heart sank earlier. Now it plummeted.
Her too-snug shorts made her feel naked in front of this jerk who was obviously
trying to get a rise out of her. She had difficulty breathing, but inhaled
through her nose to keep her head from spinning.

“Okay, well, if I have any problems I’ll let you know.”

He was over at Mimi’s? Been there all morning? That only
meant one thing, and she refused to think about that. She didn’t need to be hit
over the head to realize he was fucking that skank. It wasn’t as if they were
exclusive, though she was. Brody was only the second man she’d ever had sex with,
and she’d married the first one and gone twelve years since letting the other
one have a crack at her.

He was over at Mimi’s? She stewed on her way to her car. At
least the son of a bitch had it washed. She opened the door and climbed in,
realizing the inside was spotless too. It didn’t look like a brand-new car, but
it looked better than it had in the ten years she’d had it.

He. Was. Over. At. Mimi’s. She would not ask Roxie where
that skank-whore lived. She drove back home, ignoring how smooth her car drove,
fighting the…what? Tears? Anger?

Jealousy. That’s what she was fighting.
You know what?
Fine. He doesn’t want to be exclusive, then two can play that game.

She didn’t need to be jealous of some skank-whore-bitch
sinking her claws into that man. There were plenty of other men in this state.
It wasn’t as if Xan wasn’t attractive. She was fit with highlighted blonde hair
and blue eyes. Some might even consider her a catch.

She pulled into her driveway and stalked over to Roxie’s
house, pounding on the door. Her neighbor opened it immediately.

“Hey, girl. Everything all right?”

“You still going out tonight?” she asked in a terse voice.

Roxie’s immediate smile glowed. “Sure are. You comin’?”

“Yeah, count me in.” It was time she let some men go
fishing. Maybe the next one who caught her would appreciate the catch that she
was.

* * * * *

After getting out of the shower for the second time today,
Xan found herself staring at her clothes—the ones she ran out and bought after
talking to Roxie. This time, she wouldn’t be toning down anything. Short
leather skirt? Oh yeah. Knee-high, stiletto boots?
Come to momma.
The
tight-ass, see-though, nude-color lacy tank top paired with her black demi-bra
was just whorish enough to complete the ensemble. She curled her hair and
loosely pulled it up, leaving wispy hairs everywhere that accented her big hoop
earrings. She gave her eyes a smoky look, making the blue color stand out, and
finished up with some shiny gloss.

Taking one last look at herself in the mirror, she smiled,
squeezing her breasts. “I know it’s been a while since I’ve taken you out on
the town,” she murmured. “But we’re having some fun tonight, girls. Make me
proud.” Sometimes it was great being a woman.

She walked out and grabbed her purse, silently thanking the
fact that Scott wasn’t home. He’d made plans to stay the night with Chad after
they went out with their girlfriends, and he’d left before she’d hopped into
the shower. She was not ashamed by the way she was dressed, but there were just
some things a boy shouldn’t see. His mom dressed like a hooker probably came in
second on that list, right after seeing his mom have sex.

Xan jumped when her phone rang. She knew Roxie was coming
over here, so she knew it wouldn’t be her calling. Xan looked at the number and
frowned. It was unknown. She didn’t want to take the risk of it being Brody but
knew she didn’t have a choice but to answer it. It could be her son calling
from someplace.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Ms. Bradley. It’s Agent Jack Parsons.”

She sighed, her hand lifting to her heart and feeling it
pound widely in relief at her not having to confront Brody right now. She
chuckled at her silly reaction. “I’ve told you to call me Xan. I really like
it, and as many times as my name has changed, that’s saying a lot.”

He laughed too, so that was a good sign. “
Xan.
Um, I
just wanted to check up on you and give you an update.”

“Oh, well, I’m good. I had a minor panic attack after the
news of Marco’s release, but Scott stepped up to the plate and calmed me down. Oh,
and some hoodlum tried to run me over, but other than that, I’m good.”
Besides
the Viking asshole who fucked me and then fucked me over.
Though Xan was
pretty sure that wasn’t what Jack had been asking about.

“Yes, I’d heard about that, and I’m glad you’re okay. As for
Marco Collins, your feelings are to be expected.” He cleared his throat. “Speaking
of him, he showed up in Flint and reunited with his father, which was what we had
anticipated. He hasn’t made a move yet, but I want you to know you’re covered.
We’ve got people watching you.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me which FBI agents are
watching me?”

She heard a gasp and whirled, seeing Roxie stare at her in
disbelief.
Shit, shit, shit.
How the hell had she gotten in?
Scott.
After
all these years, the boy should know better than to leave a door unlocked. But
right now was not the time to dwell on what a teenager should or shouldn’t be
doing.

“You know I can’t do that, Xan.” But she barely heard him
over the blood rushing in her ears. How much had Roxie heard?

As Xan watched her, she knew the answer to that.
Enough.
Roxie had heard enough. This was a big clusterfuck.

“Look, Jack. I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Is everything okay?” he asked suddenly. The agent had a
nose for danger, but the only danger now was to her cover, and to a woman known
to enjoy a little gossip.

“I’m good. If not, I’ll let you know.” She hung up without
letting him needle her. It wasn’t as if she could explain what was going on
with Roxie standing ten feet from her listening to every word uttered.

She put her phone in her handbag and leveled a stare at
Roxie, who was uncharacteristically quiet. Xan could play this one of two ways—she
could confront Roxie about the phone call or pretend she hadn’t heard anything.

Yeah, Xan liked the second option best. “What? No comment on
my threads?” She did her best Vanna impression, waving her hands in front of
her body. “The outfit’s new.”

That seemed to snap Roxie back to the present and out of her
thoughts. “Oh, you look hot as hell, girl.” She stepped forward hesitantly.
“W-what was that phone call about?”

So much for pretense. She sighed, dropping her hands. “It’s
a long story. One I’ll tell you about after I get some drinks in me.” And after
she came up with a plan to say just enough to pacify without divulging
everything.

“Okay.” Roxie still didn’t seem too convinced, but she
turned and headed for the door. Once outside, they got into her car and Xan
buckled up.

“Where is this place anyway?”

“Pulaski County, just before you hit Faulkner County. It’s a
big club that people drive for miles to come to.”

Roxie had called it a honkytonk, but Xan didn’t know the
first thing about country music. That didn’t matter. As long as she got plenty
of alcohol in her, she could damn near tolerate anything.

“You look hot too, by the way,” she said suddenly, realizing
she hadn’t commented on her friend’s sexy outfit.

Roxie giggled. “Thanks. I might have to cut this dress off
me tonight. Gettin’ it on was a feat!” Instead of hitting the interstate, Roxie
pulled down a dirt road. “Anna Sue’s coming too,” she explained when Xan gave
her a puzzled look.

“Oh, okay.” They picked up the other gal and headed to the
bar. Anna Sue talked so much that Xan figured she should’ve gotten her buzz on
before leaving the house. The chick talked about everyone. Hmm, gossiping
seemed to be a favorite pastime around here.

They parked on the gravel lot and walked up to the bar, Xan
being careful not to mar her new stilettos. When the door opened, she was
immediately assaulted with twang blaring from the speakers and a chorus of
yeehaw
s
from some of the patrons.

“Don’t look so scared, girl,” Roxie said. “They’re just
hootin’ and hollerin’ in there. Someone’s probably on the bull.”

On the bull? Was that some Southern slang metaphor for
something? Same thing as
drunk
maybe? Surely there wasn’t a live bull in
the building. That would just be ridiculous.

When they walked farther in, Xan paled. Nope. It was worse
than a live bull, stinking up the joint. There was a mechanical bull in the
corner with some crazy drunk chick grinding on it, riding it in slow motion.

“That looks like fun!” Anna Sue bellowed. “I’m gonna get me
a drink an’ get in line. See you gals later.”

“In line? You mean people choose to do that?” Xan shoved her
thumb in the direction of the mechanical monstrosity, sporting an incredulous
look on her face. The damn thing didn’t even look like a bull. “I figured that
was just some form of punishment for people who lose some kinda bet.”

Roxie laughed. “Oh no, girl. The fellas get on it to outdo
each other.” She waggled her eyebrows, nudging Xan’s side with her elbow. “And
the ladies get on it to rev up the guys.”