Deeper Than Need (13 page)

Noah turned away. “I’m not a preacher anymore. But the last I checked, even preachers are allowed to get angry when the people they know are being foolish, cruel idiots.”

“You think I’m being an idiot because you’re interfering with my case.”

Noah felt the rage threaten to explode through him. It was going to come out, and something ugly and dangerous would happen if this didn’t end soon. With a snarl twisting his face, he said, “Interfering with your case? Just how am I interfering by going to talk with an old man, by telling him that his daughter might have finally been found? Yeah. You try selling that to any judge sitting on the bench, Jeb. Good luck.”

“You think I should give him false hope?”

“It’s not false hope—it’s telling him that something
might
finally happen.” In his gut, Noah knew there was finally going to be some resolution to what had happened that night.

The question was … resolution to what?

He just didn’t know.

“Noah, we don’t know that—”

“I do.” He grabbed his gloves and pulled them on. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish getting these materials loaded up. I want to get to work on the floor out at Trinity’s place soon, so if you can let me know when you release the house, I’d appreciate it.”

“It’s being released today. Listen, man, you and I need to talk about—”

“Nothing to talk about, Jeb. I’ve got to work.”

Instead of leaving, though, Jeb stood there, watching as Noah loaded up the bed of his truck. “You say you want to get to work … you’re fixing up the floor, aren’t you?”

“Needs to be done and Teddy decided he’d rather gamble out in Vegas and get married. Since it’s obviously now a very big hazard, if I want it done, I’m the best bet,” Noah said, not looking at the other man. Noah should have everything he needed. He’d take it out there and leave it in the back before he finished up the job he needed to do this afternoon.

“I don’t think you’re the best man to work out there now.”

“I’m the only man who can and will at this present time,” Noah pointed out. Then he paused and lifted a brow. “Unless you suddenly started doing home rehab in addition to cop work.”

“You’re already in a bad place right now. You’re doing stupid shit, acting out of character.… You keep hanging around that place, you’re likely to start hitting the bottle.”

“No.” Noah pulled his gloves off and tossed them into the cab of the truck. Rage bit him, hard and hungry. “I’m not.”

“Leave it until Teddy gets back. He’s the one who was supposed to do it anyway.”

“I’m not leaving Trinity swinging in the wind right now. She just had one hell of a sucker punch; I’m not giving her another.”

“
She
had a sucker punch?” Jeb demanded. “What about you? She got any idea what this is going to do to you?”

“This is my job. I fix houses. I line up the repairs. The man I hired flaked out and it’s my responsibility to find an alternative and the only other man who could get it done on our budget isn’t getting back to me. So I’m handling it.” He shoved a hand through his damp hair and glared at Jeb. “None of this concerns you. You go solve a crime, write a ticket, find out who we found in that cellar … but get off my back.”

He started for the door that led to the front office. Jeb went to fall in step behind him and Noah spun around. “I said, get off my back. If you don’t do it soon, you just might have to arrest me, because I’m about five seconds away from belting you.”

“You ain’t gonna do that,” Jeb said. But his smile fell flat.

“Yeah?” Noah gave him a wild grin and closed the distance between them. “You sure? I don’t think it would be the first time I hit you. Wouldn’t even be the first time I did it while you were wearing a badge, I don’t think.”

“Look.…” Jeb blew out a breath. “Maybe I should have called Mr. Rossi; I get that. But I’m not wrong about this house. The Ewing chick can wait a few days—”

“The Ewing chick has a name. You can call her
Ms.
Ewing, or you can call her Trinity, I don’t care, but don’t call her that Ewing chick. You don’t get to decide what jobs I will and won’t work, Jeb. Butt out.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“You’d be wiser to worry about yourself and the fact that you’re going to be arresting me if you don’t back off. Now get the hell out.”

Then, before he
did
hit the man, Noah pushed through the door to his office and locked himself inside. He needed to clear his head. He had a few hours before he was due on-site at his next job, and if he didn’t do something to get rid of this anger inside him things were going to get ugly.

*   *   *

Part-time.

Trinity’s hands were sweating as she read the neat little sign in the window. It matched the neat little ad she’d read in the classifieds when she’d gotten away from Ali. Trinity had done it mainly because she’d wanted to convince herself it was a stupid idea. Something wouldn’t work. It would be bad hours, or he wouldn’t be looking for somebody or he’d need full-time …

But no.

He wanted part-time. Three days a week, hours and days negotiable. That was just too good to be true. Twenty to twenty-five hours a week. Permanent part-time, paid vacation … wow. She didn’t really need
permanent
part-time, but she wasn’t going to walk away from a job prospect over that. Especially with those hours.

It had been nearly thirty minutes since she’d left Ali’s house, and Trinity had taken the most circuitous route imaginable, trying to talk herself out of it. There wasn’t much else in the classifieds that would work.

A receptionist job at the salon, but she’d only lived in Madison for a few weeks and she already knew one thing—if she wanted anything about her life to remain private, she needed to avoid the owner of the salon. Meg Hampton lived and breathed gossip. If Ali already knew about Anton…?

Nope.

Not going there.

Plus, the job at the salon called for some late nights, some holidays and weekends. Trinity would do that if she had no choice, but was she really going to avoid the better option just because she had a lust-on for the owner?

Be a grown-up,
she told herself, steeling herself to go inside.

She’d been there only once, but it wasn’t like she’d forget.

Okay.

She was a grown-up. She could go in there and talk to him about the job.

But maybe I should wait.

Was
now
really the right time for this? She was dealing with the mess at the house, the police report …
the fricking hole in her floor
 … the body.

Her belly pitched, going queasy just at the thought.

Okay, maybe this wasn’t a good time to do this. She had too much going on.

She almost turned back around.

Only one thing stopped her.

If she went back to Ali’s, she’d sit around and worry and brood. That accomplished nothing. She couldn’t even do much work, because she’d been so upset, she hadn’t brought her laptop. All she had was her iPad.

“Mama?”

She smiled down at Micah and hoped he couldn’t see how upset she was. “Yes, baby?”

“Are we going to talk to Mr. Noah?”

“Yes, we are.”

Micah was quiet a moment and then he said, “Then how come we’re just standing here?”

“I’m thinking about what I’ll say. It’s been a long time since I asked anybody for a job. I’m a little nervous.”

“I can ask him for you. I’m not nervous.”

She laughed and smoothed a hand down his tousled blond hair. “Oh, I think I can handle it. But thanks.” She made a big display of taking a deep breath, although she definitely needed the oxygen. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Before she could lose her nerve or talk herself out of it, she pushed the door open and headed inside.

Then, she stopped.

Noah wasn’t in his office.

She’d seen the truck out front, which was why she’d stopped.

But he wasn’t in here—

“What’s that noise, Mama?”

*   *   *

The police were finally gone.

This time, he didn’t think they were coming back.

They’d leave, then return. Leave, then return. All the cars cruising up and down the road, an endless parade that was probably driving the old judge crazy.

But the cops had finally stopped. He’d heard the word around town that the new owner could go back home.

So they must be done.

He stood out on the far edge of the property, staring up at the house and telling himself that he needed to leave. He’d rather not get caught hanging out around here. Although it wouldn’t really be an odd thing. Half the damn town had come out here over the past day; whether they’d walked the short distance from town or driven by, this strip of pavement had seen more traffic than it ever did.

It wasn’t really going to strike people as
that
unusual if he was seen out there. Even if somebody asked, he’d just say what everybody else was thinking.

Just wondering how that body ended up there … wondering how long she was down there.

The body.

So far, there hadn’t been anything about a name, not officially, but more than a few people had their guesses.

Diane.

David.

Lana.

Maybe even Peter. Looking down at the battered toes of his work boots, he tried to push against all the dark thoughts pushing at him. Tried and failed. They raged inside him, so powerful and all consuming, they threatened to devour him.

The sound of a car engine caught his ears and he looked up, spotted the car turning onto the street. With a sigh he turned his back on the house and headed toward his truck, nodding at the old man behind the steering wheel.

Judge Max. He could only imagine how happy that old goat was about this. “Just wait, old man,” he murmured, pushing his hat back. “It’s just going to get worse.”

*   *   *

Trinity frowned as she listened to the noise her son had heard.

Rattling. Metal rattling and clinking. Courtesy dictated that she leave and she looked around once more for Noah, but he wasn’t in there.

“Come on, Micah.”

He slipped free of her hand and darted forward.

“Micah Dean Ewing,” she snapped, starting forward. As she brushed by the desk, her purse bumped against a stack of folders and she swore, catching them as they started to topple over.

She righted them just as Micah opened the door to the back of the office. That rattling and clinking got louder.

She also heard a sound she hadn’t heard earlier … grunting.

Micah’s eyes popped wide, rounding in his young face as a grin crooked his lips.
Wow,
he mouthed, lifting a hand to point.

“Micah,” she whispered, reaching to pull him away. But as she did, she couldn’t help but look.

Wow, indeed.

Damn her lack of control anyway.

The rattling and clinking came from a chain, one that was connected to a punching bag, and that punching bag was being pummeled, very proficiently, it seemed, by Noah. Noah, who wore
just
running shorts and a pair of boxing gloves.

Sweat gleamed along his back, arms and shoulders. Muscles flexed under smooth skin, and that fine sheen of sweat just served to draw the eye even more. She wanted to drop everything she was doing and just cross the floor, rest her hands on his arms, stroke them down and then lean in, kiss the sculpted muscle …

Trinity stood there staring and the familiar burn of hunger punched through her, vicious and powerful, turning her blood to fire and her knees to water.
Oh. Oh my … I like. I like so very much.

Son of a bitch, this was getting out of control. If it was anybody else, she’d probably just bite the bullet and ask him out, see what happened.

But how did you go about telling a
preacher
that you were dying of lust? She was going to burn in hell for this. There had to be some sort of law or commandment or something against lusting over preachers, right? She was certain of it.

He was just so very, very pretty to look at.

Swallowing, she tried to tear her eyes away, but after a few failed attempts she decided,
What the hell. I’m already on the path to damnation anyway. I might as well have a nice memory to take with me.

Memories of the way his muscles rippled and flexed. She’d wondered how he’d look under those faded T-shirts, the worn jeans. Now she knew. And oh, man … he shifted a little and she caught sight of his chest. He had chest hair. A light dusting of it, just enough to feel so good. Trinity felt her fixation teeter on the edge of obsession, ready to topple over. How would it feel to curl her fingers in the light scattering of it, to have it rubbing over her breasts as he moved over her—

“Noah! That is awesome!”

Blood rushed to her face and she cut those thoughts off, humiliated. She looked down at the towheaded devious little angel standing next to her. How could somebody who looked so sweet be
so
good at embarrassing her?

The clinking stopped.

Breathing shallowly, she lifted her gaze and found herself staring into the dark, deep blue of Noah Benningfield’s eyes. Normally, she avoided looking into his eyes for very long—they were too penetrating and she had the most disturbing image that he could see
straight
through her, see all the shadows she was trying to put behind her, the regrets and doubts, the anger. Everything. She felt stripped bare around him, and it didn’t help that he’d been there holding her as she fell apart.

But if she didn’t look in his eyes, she was going to look at other body parts. That chest, heavily layered with muscle and that tempting line of hair, his flat belly, the way his shorts rode low on his hip bones and the sweat gleamed on his skin.

She wanted to go over and lean into him, press her lips to his chest and lick away one of those beads that were rolling down his pectorals.

Lust, the low, insistent tug of it, clenched in her belly and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from groaning. Heat flooded her face and she looked down, busied herself with the strap of her purse as she waited for the worst of it to pass. Too many years had passed since she’d actually
wanted
a man. Why did she have to find
this
one so damned attractive?