Secrets and Lies (Crimson Romance) (9 page)

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He shrugged, smiling. “I should be used to it by now.” He leaned down to give her a warm kiss. When he was finished, she felt warm all over. “This time would have been great.”

“Yeah. Are you ready to face my father?”

“No, but I won’t let you take the heat alone.”

His comment made her chest feel tight. She led him out to the kitchen where her father sat, his face devoid of expression. His gaze scanned her first, then zeroed in on Charlie.

“Charlie Ziffkin.”

“Captain Sanchez.” Charlie moved closer to her to face her father.

Her father’s eyes narrowed, and he frowned at Charlie’s neck. Then Juliana remembered the love bite. She groaned silently.

“I won’t ask what’s going on. That’s obvious,” her father said. “And it’s obvious it’s not the first time.”

Juliana blushed over the reminder of her hickey the other day. “We’re adults, Papá. We’re not doing anything wrong.”

“And what have you got to say, Ziffkin?”

“Juliana is helping me with a case.”

Her father’s brown eyes narrowed. “Helping you how?”

“You know how, Papá. He’s trying to retrieve a stolen sculpture for a client.”

“Why aren’t the police involved?” her father echoed her question from yesterday.

“Sir, you know sometimes private detectives can go where cops can’t. This is one of those times,” Charlie explained.

Juliana jerked. He’d tossed out that plausible lie without hesitation.

“So this stolen item is the reason you were arrested for solicitation?” Her father gave her a pointed look.

“Yes, sir. A misunderstanding. I get that a lot.”

“And then you came here to Juliana’s apartment.”

Charlie glanced at her. She tried to signal with her eyes to evade.

“Do you have a problem with me being here, Captain Sanchez?” Charlie asked.

“Why don’t we step outside,” her father suggested.

“Dad, don’t be medieval.”

“Mr. Ziffkin, would you step outside please.” It was his fearsome cop voice. Even Juliana’s stomach quailed.

But she rallied. “You’re not in charge of my life, Dad. I think you’d better leave.”

“It’s okay, Juliana,” Charlie said. “I have to go anyway.”

Before she could protest, he leaned down to kiss her. She knew her father was watching, but when Charlie wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him, she was only aware of the desire that surged between them. His hard erection pressed into her belly. Why couldn’t he just let her father leave so they could spend the rest of the day in bed together?

Too soon the kiss ended. Charlie’s blue eyes were sad. But then he smiled like a rogue.

“You could come back,” she whispered. “We could finish what we started.”

“I can’t. I have an appointment.”

She didn’t believe him.

Charlie released her. Her father’s face was as stony as she’d ever seen it. The two men stepped out the door to discuss her. Why couldn’t her father accept that she was grown and could take care of herself?

• • •

As soon as they were out of earshot of her apartment, Juliana’s father asked, “What are your intentions toward Juliana?”

Charlie answered honestly. “I’m returning to California as soon as I retrieve the stolen item.”

“Juliana’s not a one-night stand.”

“I never thought she was.”

“Juliana’s in awe of you, a movie star—”

“I’m not a movie star. And Juliana doesn’t think of me like that. If anything, I’m still seventeen-year-old Charlie to her, only in an adult body.”

Captain Sanchez narrowed his eyes. “You’re saying her sleeping with you is taking up where you left off all those years ago?”

“Yes, sir. And for me, too.” The realization was like a bright light shining in the stygian darkness. His body had grown up, lived years away from her, but it was like an alternate universe. The moment he’d finished what they started all those years ago, the clock in this reality began to tick again.

“I did what was best back then,” her father said. “I didn’t want her unwed and pregnant.”

“That wouldn’t have happened,” Charlie insisted. “My dad taught me about birth control. We would have been careful.”

“Accidents happen.”

“Then she could have lived at my house. My mom would have taken care of her and the baby.”

“So I’d lose my daughter just after losing her mother!” Captain Sanchez looked shocked, and then his face wiped clean of expression.

“You didn’t have to send Juliana away, somewhere you thought she’d be safe from me, while you packed up the house,” Charlie accused. “It wasn’t right for her. Or me.”

“You were planning to move to Hollywood when you graduated. You would have broken her heart soon enough.”

“She could have come with me.” Should have been with him. Her presence might have made him decide to make a career change sooner. Maybe he’d have moved back home. Maybe then Billy wouldn’t have gone to New Orleans. Then he’d be alive now. And so would Charlie.

Her father had held onto Juliana, afraid to lose her. If Charlie had more time, he’d break her out of her prison.

To do what? Share his cell?

Charlie glanced back at Juliana’s apartment. Then he looked at Captain Sanchez. “It was wrong to take her away from me.” He strode to his car. He had to clear out of his hotel room and relocate to the Hilton.

As he drove away, he saw that Captain Sanchez still stood where Charlie had left him. His frown was thoughtful.

But Charlie’s plans for a quick getaway from his hotel were thwarted when he found Rick sitting in a chair in his room. Charlie’s stomach twisted in knots.

“I won’t ask how you got in.”

“You haven’t called Mom and Dad,” Rick said.

“I’m working. I told you that already.”

“24/7?”

“You should understand that.” Charlie flopped down on the bed.

“You’re not working now.”

“Yes I am. I came back to get some clothes.” All of them actually.

“Then where are you going?”

“I have to establish my identity for this case. I have to set up.”

“Like you’re working undercover?”

“Yeah.”

“Like acting?”

“Yeah.”

He could see the wheels turning in Rick’s mind. “Need help?”

“No.” Then Charlie tacked on, “Thanks.”

Rick considered that for a few moments. “You haven’t returned any of my messages. I’ve called here repeatedly and you never answer, even at night.”

“I told you—”

“One of the vice cops said you left with Juliana Sanchez the other night.” Rick had given him that look many times before.

Two inquisitions in thirty minutes. Was he thirty or thirteen? “I followed her out. It was good to see her again. We talked.”

“Talked.” Rick repeated, although the spin he put on the word was exactly the type of activity Charlie and Juliana had engaged in. “You’ve got a hickey on your neck.”

Charlie wasn’t about to kiss and tell, not about Juliana.

When he said nothing, Rick added, “Her dad’s a captain now.”

“I know.” Charlie smiled at his brother, charm to charm. Rick had mastered charm as a police officer, but Charlie had been born with it.

“He’s got a whole squad to beat your ass now if he catches you with his daughter.”

Charlie snorted. “Cops have to follow the rules. I learned that at P.I. school.”

“Correspondence course?”

The jab hurt, but Charlie shrugged it off. “Sure. I can’t wait to take my handguns course.”

That wiped Rick’s face clear of expression. “That’s not funny, Charlie.”

“Sorry, I thought it was. I need to get moving.” Charlie climbed off the bed.

Rick rose, too. “Can’t it wait an hour? Mom and Dad want to see you.”

“There’s some urgency to this case. The sooner I get into place, the sooner it’s solved.”

“You used to be more flexible.”

He used to be many things. “I’m grown up now, just like you; I have responsibilities.”

Charlie could see the doubt in Rick’s frown. He had to get that sculpture back so he could return to California before his parents sought him out themselves. In California at least some people thought him adult and capable.

Rick pulled out his wallet, and for a moment Charlie flinched, expecting an offer of money. But Rick slid a business card from it, wrote a number on the back, and held it out to Charlie.

“Here’s my cell and Mom and Dad’s phone number.”

Charlie didn’t take it. “I know their number.”

“Coulda fooled me.” Rick dropped the card onto the dresser. “Call them.”

Rick left, and Charlie sagged with relief. His muscles ached from the tension he’d felt being in the same room with his brother. His family expected the same old Charlie, but that young man had died with Billy.

His mind was made up. He packed his things and took them to the car. As soon as it got dark tonight he would make a night raid on Montgomery’s house. If that didn’t work, he’d already be set up at the Hilton for his contingency plan to get into the house with the wedding guests. And he still had two more tries tomorrow before the wedding with the florist and the caterer. But the sooner he got the sculpture, the better.

He could do this without Juliana; after all, he’d been doing it for two years without her. But he wished she were helping him this time.

“He’s still the same Charlie Ziffkin.” Juliana’s father faced her across her little wooden kitchen table. He stood with his hands on his hips while she sat toying with a Diet Pepsi. “He’s going back to California.”

“I know that.”

“Then why would you let him sleep with you?”

“Because I wanted to.” She sighed. “Listen, Dad, I know you won’t understand, but I wanted to know what it would have been like if you hadn’t stopped us. And I’m glad I did.”

“You aren’t falling for him, are you?”

“No.” She’d done that long ago, when she and Charlie were teenagers, when things had changed.
She’d
changed; so had Charlie. His voice had begun to deepen, he’d grown taller, and she’d felt attracted to him as she’d never been before. She’d begun to have trouble breathing when she shared a room with him. She’d dreamt about kissing him, wondering what his lips would feel like.

“That’s good,” her father said, breaking into her sad reverie, “because nothing could come of it.”

“What would have happened if Mamá hadn’t died?” Juliana asked. “Would you have packed me off to Tía Dolores’s house if Mamá had been alive?”

“Your mamá would have been able to talk to you about boys and . . . well . . . sex.” His tanned cheeks grew ruddy.

“
You
could have talked to me about it.”

“These things need a mother’s touch.”

“Yet you’ll tell the boys the facts of life.”

“Your brothers are boys, Juliana. Of course a man will discuss that with them.”

She sighed, rose and moved to his side. “Papá, I’m no different than Emilio and Juan. We’re all your children. You don’t need to treat me like I’m glass.”

“I’m treating you with respect, as a man should.”

She ignored the accusation in the last part of his statement. “You’re treating me like I’m incapable, which I’m not.”

“
M’hija
, we’ve gone over and over this. You’re always going to be my little
chica
.”

Yes. Frozen at sixteen when her mother died. She walked him to the door.

He cleared his throat. “Were you able to help Narcotics?”

“No.” Juliana told him what they wanted and why. But she held back from telling him she could find the object. Not only was Charlie linked to it, but she hoped to surprise him by retrieving the sculpture first. If the narcs could get her into the wedding, she’d see if a memory of the picture worked as well as a photo.

“That’s a shame,” her father said. “I’d hate to see more drugs in this town. It’s hard enough to win the fight against them.”

Juliana kissed him on the cheek. “Give my love to my step-mamá.”

“I will. You could come for dinner this weekend.”

“Maybe Sunday. I’ll let you know.”

After he left, Juliana felt too antsy to type medical transcriptions. Usually the familiar words and phrases and surgeon’s voices had a soothing rhythm. And sounds carried no psychic connections. But right now she didn’t want to hear about heart bypass and angioplasty procedures. In her spare bedroom she donned a man’s large t-shirt over her clothes. She dug out a large wad of moist clay from a fifty-pound box and set it in the center of her potter’s wheel, sliding onto the round stool. She started the wheel spinning with the foot pedal. The clay was cool to the touch. As usual, she felt nothing when she touched it. It had no associative emotions or memories.

This was going to be a red pot. She’d seen a photo of a red Mexican pot with orange, yellow, and green peppers on it. She liked to visualize the pot in her mind as she formed it. Her hands smoothed the clay into a circle as the wheel turned. Her palms slid across the cool, moist clay. She formed the mouth of it by pressing her fingers into the center. With gentle pressure, she widened the orifice.

Charlie had done this to her last night, spreading her pussy open until he could push his tongue inside. Her body tightened in memory. The sensation had been exquisite, especially when he rubbed her clit at the same time. She’d come screaming. Twice. Finally her pleading had forced him to cease his torment and fill her with his cock.

The pot’s opening was now wide enough to slip her hand inside. The moldable clay gave outward under her gentle pressure, the way Charlie had spread her legs before he feasted on the tender flesh there, his dark head bent between her tanned thighs. She relived the feeling of his tongue caressing and probing, laving her quivering, excited flesh, pushing her with insistent jabs toward that explosion they both desired.

She was using too much pressure on the clay and eased up. Charlie did this when he wanted to extend their loving. He left her trembling while he paid tribute to other parts of her body, only to return to excite the flesh between her legs once more. Sometimes when they were on the brink, he slowed his thrusts until he barely moved. Then he would kiss her until they were gasping for breath. Slowly he’d build the speed again.