Hell Without You (23 page)

“Thank you, Ms. Lettvin. Those are all the questions I have for now.” By the time Detective Wagner rose from his seat at the desk, Clementine’s eyelids were drooping, the caffeine and sugar rush provided by after-dinner pie and coffee at Ann’s having long since faded.

She followed the detective back to the main entry area, where Donovan waited.

“Still feeling okay?” she asked.

“Fine. Come on.” He wrapped his good arm around her waist, drawing his other one into his coat sleeve to protect his bandages from the rain.

The short drive home couldn’t end quickly enough. As soon as they entered the house, she sank down into a chair at the kitchen table with a sigh. “I’d ask you about your interview and tell you all about mine, but then we’d be up all night.”

He settled a hand between her shoulders and rubbed, massaging the vertebrae at the base of her neck. “If we’re going to be up all night, I can think of much better ways to spend all that time.”

“Maybe not
all
night…” She leaned back, sighing as his touch dispelled tension from her muscles. “But I could use a little relaxation before bed.”

“Relaxation, huh? Bed’s probably the best place for that. Why don’t we head there?”

A minute later, they were on the bed and Clementine was stripping without ceremony, tossing her clothes onto the carpet, eager to feel his bare skin against hers.

“Need some help?” she asked as he unbuttoned his jeans one-handedly. Instead of waiting for an answer, she finished the task for him, her fingers sliding over his as she sought out the button. Getting him out of his jeans was easy, but his shirt was a different story.

He wore a button-up, and removing it meant removing his sling first, then working the sleeve carefully over his bandages. His shoulder was bruised from the impact that had fractured his collarbone, and the sight of the purple haze, tinged yellow around the edges, sent a fresh bolt of concern straight through her. She forgot it when he bowed his neck to press his mouth to hers, sending all thoughts of the past few days fleeing from her mind with a single kiss.

Fingers aching for contact, she slipped her hands beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs, grasping the hard shaft of his cock. His skin was smooth as silk beneath her hand, hot to the touch. “How do you want to do this?” she asked when the kiss ended. “Same as yesterday?” Her body responded to the memory, succumbing to a quick head-to-toe tightening.

He breathed a hard sigh, using his free hand to strip away his underwear. “Yeah.”

Bolts of anticipation raced up and down her thighs as they settled onto the bed, her muscles quivering. He lay flat on his back, and she froze just as she was about to straddle him. “Almost forgot…” Leaning over the edge of the bed, she reached for the box of condoms on the floor and pulled out a strip, tearing one from the end.

“Damn…” His legs stiffened beneath her as she climbed on top of him, her bent knees resting on the blankets on either side of his hips.

A quick tear and she had the condom free and was sliding it down over his shaft. She took her time because hearing him groan in response was enough to make her ache to hurry, and there was a certain pleasure in holding back.

“Now you,” he said, his gaze drifting down to his groin. His dick lay against the flat plane of his belly, the head broad and round. The stripe of hair that led below rested beneath it like a shadow, dark against his skin.

Gripping the base of his erection, she held it steady, running her thumb up and down the underside as she sank, impaling herself on his hard length. Her internal muscles stretched slowly and deliciously until he rocked his hips, thrusting into her with a burst of force. Then it was bittersweet pleasure edged with shock that tore the breath right out of her lungs. She reached to brace herself with a hand against his shoulder, but caught herself at the last second.

Instead, she leaned back, seeking balance and letting her weight rest on his hips.

He continued to rock, sharp eyes going hazy as he raked his gaze up and down her body. “Want me to touch you here?” He ran his unhurt hand slowly up the inside of her thigh, caressing the tender skin there before letting his fingers rest on her clit. The motion of his hips jarred his hand ever so slightly, setting the nerve endings he’d pressed his fingers against on fire.

“Yes,” she breathed.

He massaged her clit in a rhythm that complemented the one that rocked his hips, and she did her best to match it, moving her own body and feeling him slide a little deeper with each stroke as a result. Her pussy shrank in response, drawing tight around the broad shaft of his cock.

Minutes passed by, steeped in expectation, the only noise sounds of breath and the shifting mattress. Each time he thrust up into her, she rocked back against him, familiar with the give and take now, thighs beginning to quiver not just from pleasure, but from exertion. When her climax came it hit her hard, stealing her breath even though she’d been expecting it, reaching for it.

The pleasure came in waves, sweeping through her and washing all other thoughts and sensations from her mind. Contractions rippled in her core, and Donovan rocked harder beneath her. She moved more quickly too, losing her rhythm and not caring. He slid balls-deep into her each time, and the resulting impact sent her pleasure spiking higher until it finally reached a peak and she came crashing down.

Literally, but she was careful to catch herself with a hand against the mattress, wrinkling the blanket by Donovan’s jaw.

He groaned, pulling his hand from between her thighs and gripping her hip instead. One hand was all he needed to hold her steady; the muscles in his forearms strained and stood out as he fucked her from below, each stroke a little harder than the last. She didn’t need to see his head tipped back against the pillow or the way he’d squeezed his eyes shut to know he was close.

He said her name when he came, and her pussy gave an answering squeeze as a few split seconds of pleasure sailed through her like aftershocks, taking her back in time to when she’d peaked moments before. When he was still, she remained on top of him for a few moments, her flesh still soft and sensitive around his enduring erection. Even being still, it felt good having him inside her. She longed to lie down beside him though, so she rose, unsheathing him and sinking onto the mattress.

A kiss of heat and moisture brushed her temple as he turned his head to the side, his stubble scraping her cheek as he touched his lips to her head. “Make sure I get up when you do tomorrow. I don’t want to wake up and realize you’re gone.”

Heels clicking against the tile, Clementine made her way across the kitchen. In her favorite skirt, blouse and blazer, she felt polished – ready for her first day of work. As she laid a hand on the doorframe, the diamond on her finger sparkled, the perfect finishing touch. A splash of light and color against the charcoal grey and blue tones of her outfit, it felt like an indulgence – a promise. “See you late this evening,” she said, her heart wrenching a little.

She told herself she didn’t want to leave Donovan alone because of his recent injuries, but deep down, she knew leaving him would’ve caused a twinge of regret in any case. They were newly-engaged and a charmed, selfish part of her wanted to spend the day focusing on that instead of her new job.

“See you,” he said, setting down his coffee cup and standing, pushing his chair back from the table.

“Promise me you won’t do anything crazy like try to drive,” she said as he approached, looming over her in jeans and nothing else, making her heart beat fast beneath the buttoned-up front of her French-cuffed shirt.

“No driving,” he agreed, stepping close enough that his bare torso brushed the front of her blazer. “I’ll be here with something burnt on the table for dinner when you get back.”

She smiled. “Let me know if you change your mind and want me to pick something up.”

He pressed his mouth against hers, crushing her lips with a coffee-flavored kiss. She wore heels and he was in his bare feet, which reduced their height difference to a couple inches; he barely had to bend his neck. “I’m gonna miss you,” he said, gripping her hip through her pencil skirt.

“Likewise.” She grinned. “Now I know what I’ll be day-dreaming about during my commute.”

He frowned. “Keep your eyes and your mind on the road. Three hours round-trip during rush hour is already dangerous enough.”

She laughed. “I’m supposed to be the one who’s worried about you, remember?”

“Nothing to worry about.” His breath rushed against her cheek, hot and tempting.

“Don’t want to be late on my first day.” She pulled away reluctantly.

He nodded. “Figure I’ll give Hugh Jeffries a call while you’re gone.”

That thought brightened her outlook despite the fact that the kitchen windows revealed a leaden sky. Soon she wouldn’t have to commute so far to work. “You can let me know how it goes when I give you a call during my lunch break.”

“Bye, Clementine.”

She took one last long look at him – everything from his sleep-mussed hair to the lines of muscle slashing in a V and disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans – and opened the front door, telling him goodbye.

Outside, a cold breeze stole the heat of his kiss from her lips, chilling her through her blazer. The world still smelled like the rain that had fallen the day before, and the sky was the same color as Donovan’s eyes.

* * * * *

“See you tomorrow morning,” Clementine said, stepping onto the elevator.

Her new co-worker nodded, and the doors separated them. For a matter of hours, anyway. A long drive back to Willow Heights, a night with Donovan that would end too soon and she’d be back. After the period of unemployment she’d spent at Donovan’s house, being back on a work schedule felt a little new. She’d get used to it quickly, though – she’d always been busy in New York.

Only now she had something more to go home to than a tiny apartment and a pair of equally frazzled roommates. The thought made her smile as the elevator reached the lobby level.

She walked briskly across the tile, eager to reach her car, though it hadn’t been a bad day. Her new co-workers – the ones she’d met so far – seemed fine, and the job itself was something her education had prepared her for. There was no reason why her future at Kellogg-Hart shouldn’t be bright. It was just hard to think of that when she’d been immersed in getting to know the new company all day … now she longed to reach home and “relax” with Donovan, just like she had the night before.

Outside, on the sidewalk, she hardly noticed the chill. Someone caught her eye, distracting her – a man in a dark jacket. The sight tripped some internal sensor, and she watched him walk away as her heart skipped a beat. He was about Donovan’s height and had dark hair, though now that she focused on him, it was apparent that was where the similarities ended. Glancing down at her left hand, she smiled as the diamond there winked up at her, catching the late afternoon light.

Once in her car, she drove until she hit the freeway, then breathed a sigh. She’d done it – landed a job, worked out things with Donovan, thought of a way they could live without being apart. At one time or another, all of those things had felt impossible. The closer she got to Willow Heights, the happier she felt. Until she reached the house.

There were three police cars taking up all the space in the driveway. If there had only been one, she might’ve figured that Detective Wagner had returned for another round of questions. But three? Why would so many officers be at the house? A shiver raced down her spine as she parked her car in the grass and stepped out of her vehicle.

Two of the cruisers were empty. An officer sat behind the wheel of the third, and Clementine felt his gaze on her even before she met his eyes. “Miss Lettvin.” He opened the door and stepped out of his vehicle, directly into her path.

“What’s going on?” A gust of wind came from behind, chilling her lower legs and making the hem of her blazer flutter. A few leaves skittered across the gravel, and she anxiously awaited the officer’s reply, shutting out the sounds of autumn as best she could.

But the officer didn’t reply – at least, not before the house’s front door swung open. Two other officers stepped out onto the porch, and Donovan was between them.

Her heart leapt into her throat. One of the officers was gripping Donovan’s free arm, and the other was walking close to the one in a sling, practically breathing down Donovan’s neck. Two more cops followed from behind.

Her heels wobbled as she hurried over the gravel, and she heard the crunch of the fifth officer’s boots behind her.

“What’s going on?” she demanded, stopping a few feet from Donovan and his escorts. “Donovan?” She raked her gaze from his head to his toes. He looked okay, but unmistakable anger made his eyes a shade darker than usual. He wasn’t in cuffs, but this looked like an arrest. Why, God, why?

A memory from the kitchen flashed before her mind’s eye, replaying the time when Donovan had purposely burnt his hand. He’d said it was because he’d been so mad he’d had to distract himself, had to stop himself from doing something he’d regret. Had something happened … had he done something unlawful?

That didn’t make much sense, even to her half-panicked mind. Trevor wasn’t even alive anymore. Who else could have angered him?

“He’s under arrest,” the officer behind her finally said.

She hardly felt the chilly wind blowing against her skin, but inside, she was cold and shaking. “For what?”

“The murder of Trevor Grier.”

Tearing her gaze away from Donovan, she whirled to face the officer. “What?”

“He’s under arrest for the murder of Trevor Grier.”

“That’s ridiculous. He had nothing to do with Trevor’s death, and you can’t arrest someone without proof!”

One of the officers behind Donovan stepped forward – Detective Wagner. “We have a murder weapon with his fingerprints on it.”

A sick feeling rolled through her, making her stomach clench up as her blood pressure skyrocketed. “That’s impossible.”

The five officers were in uniform, wearing badges … how could they lie? Any way she looked at their claim, it rang false. She’d been with Donovan the entire night, knew without a doubt that he couldn’t have laid a hand on Trevor, let alone killed him.

“It’s fact.” The look of grim satisfaction on Detective Wagner’s face filled Clementine with hatred.

Standing there, trying to hide the fact that she was shaking in her heels, she clenched her teeth. Worse than the anger was the hole the detective’s claim had shot through her heart; it gaped, growing wider by the second, leaving her open to despair. “Where are you taking him?”

It had to be some kind of mistake. They’d have to let him go soon, when the error came to the surface.

“To the station for questioning.”

“And then?”

“He’ll be booked at the county jail.”

Jail
. Her gut twisted, and for half a moment, she feared she’d throw up all over the toes of her Mary Jane pumps. As she shifted her gaze back to Donovan, the terrible irony of the situation dawned on her – this was exactly what she’d left seven years ago to protect him from. Now, here she stood with his ring on her finger, completely useless.

“What about bail?” She heard herself ask the question and was half-surprised by her own words. The way Donovan had rescued Ricardo was still fresh in her mind, but she still couldn’t believe she was asking – couldn’t believe the reality of his arrest was cold and hard enough to make her think so practically when she knew he was innocent.

“That’s for the magistrate to decide.”

The officers moved forward in unison, forcing Donovan toward one of the cruisers.

“I’m coming to the station,” she said, willing as much firmness into her voice as she could muster. “Donovan, I know you’re innocent – this has to be a mistake. It’ll all work out. It has to.”

Donovan looked over his shoulder at her as one of the officers pushed his head down, forcing him into the back of a car. “Love you, Clementine.”

He might as well have reached into her chest and squeezed her heart with his bare hand. His words hurt because they were exactly what she wanted to hear, only under different circumstances.
Any
circumstances besides these. “I’ll be at the station while you’re being questioned,” she called as Detective Wagner shut the door, sealing Donovan inside the vehicle.

She climbed into her own car and followed the black and white caravan down the rural road, past Shady Side and into town. The sight of the trailer park at twilight stuck with her; as she idled at a light behind the last of the three police vehicles, she couldn’t help but remember the rust and squalor, the thriving weeds. If Donovan had been anything like his mother or his absent father, he would almost certainly have ended up in jail at some point.

But he wasn’t. And this was wrong. So wrong she had to wonder how it had even happened in the first place.

Could they be lying about the supposed murder weapon bearing his fingerprints? It seemed unlikely – there were laws to follow. But it seemed even more unlikely that they actually had one. So what did that mean?

Robert … had he somehow orchestrated all this? Pulled strings and lined pockets? The thought left her nauseous. Such things shouldn’t be possible, but Donovan’s baffling arrest had her grasping at straws, racking her mind for possible explanations.

When the little convoy she’d attached herself to reached the police station, she parked around front and walked inside via the main entrance. Anybody could enter, could sit on the hard bench near the door and wait on pins and needles. So that was exactly what she did.

* * * * *

7 Years Ago

The water was so cold it took the breath right out of her lungs. Donovan’s touch sparked a little warmth in the center of her being, bringing her gasping back to life. Gripping the edge of the rocky outcrop that protruded into the quarry lake, she leaned back into him, letting her back rest against his chest as water lapped over her shoulders, splashing onto the rock. It was only late May – too early for most to want to swim in the quarry.