The Mistress - an Erotic Noir Novel (13 page)

“I...” she tried, but found her ability lacking as she
tried to move closer towards him, “He couldn’t have done
it, even if he were the type who would have.”

Seeing her struggle to stay up so, he put his strong arm around
her, propping her up, “Come this way, Eva,” he said, and
he led her back into the open door he must have come out of. Inside
was a study, this one obviously Sylvia’s, for it was filled
with clippings and things of intrigue that would never interest the
Gregory she knew. He sat her down on the chair at the desk and bent
to one knee before her.

She stared at him with her dark eyes, her head only dropping a
little as the black lashes half hid the watery orbs. She felt a flush
run through her body, and suddenly she could look at his handsome
face no more, staring instead to her hand atop the armrest.

“You saw his little house, right?” she whispered, just
barely audible, even as close as he was.

With a slow nod of his head he said, “Yeah, the guest house
out back. What about it?” And his hard, rough hand reached out,
resting atop hers and rubbing the backs of her knuckles so kindly.

“I was there,” she murmured, and her face was so hot
she could barely contain it. Removing her hat, she placed it to the
table at her side. “Is that helpful?” She almost sounded
bitter, being forced to confess to something so shameful.

Squeezing her hand he asked her gently, “Was he with you
then at the time of the murder?”

“Yes,” she hissed resentfully.

Rubbing her hand he leaned in a little closer, “Thank you,
Eva. It’s brave to admit that. I knew you were at the guest
house that night, and as much as I believed you—wanted to
believe you—I have to be sure.” He paused then added, “I
don’t think Mr. Sinclair did it. Your confession helps convince
me I was right.”

“He...” she sniffled back the threatening tears as her
gaze fell back to the detective, “Turing is a bad person and
now they’re talking about promoting him. If... You asked me if
Sinclair had any enemies, and if Mrs. Sinclair was going to expose
his sick behaviour...”

Nodding his head slowly he said, “Yeah, that would make
sense,” though he seemed hesitant, as if someone else were
foremost in his mind, his gaze sliding away as he drifted into
thought.

“Is Sinclair okay? I... he must feel so guilty,” she
whimpered. “To... because of me, I mean. I know he’d
never want...” she shook her head. “If he had been with
her... if I hadn’t...” she was barely making sense as she
choked out the words.

She looked so upset, it seemed to finally crack his calm exterior
and he put his strong arms around her, pulling her against his chest
as he gave her a warm embrace. “It’s okay, Eva,” he
said softly, “it’s not your fault. There was more going
on then you, or maybe even he knew.”

Her own arms went around him so warmly, and even in the strange
position that the chair forced them in, she managed to press her
large, covered breasts to his chest. Her heart thudded loudly, and
she was so frail against the stronger man.

It had been an exhausting two days, and all she wanted was to be
able to relax, to be at peace with herself, but she couldn’t
stop thinking back. If she hadn’t come, Mrs. Sinclair could
have still been alive. If she hadn’t gone to Turing’s...
She shivered as the sensations returned to her body and she shifted
away from Max.

“Turing’s doing something horrid,” she said,
louder than she expected.

In that position he seemed almost poised to kiss her, but then her
words broke the spell of the moment and he pulled away almost
imperceptibly, “I’ll put a stop to it somehow, whether he
is or isn’t the man we’re after for the murder, Eva. I
won’t let this evidence rest, even if I can’t use it as
it is.”

Pulling back a bit he looked her in the eyes, his own emerald gaze
steady as his strong hands rubbed her spine.

Her eyes kept dropping to his lips, but she forced them to focus
on his shoulders, just at the bend that met his neck, and her
breathing quickened.

She’d never dealt with stress well; not really. Outwardly
she was always capable and calm, but inside, she always felt this
intense sensation, a need that started low in her body and then
traveled through her limbs.

Allan had gotten her through her exams, though she’d never
told him that.

Anxiety just gave her a craving for release, and she could feel it
building through her form as she tried to remain in control. “I’m
not a flapper... I’m not of loose morals,” she murmured,
though it was more to convince herself than him. “I never
thought of Turing...” Her lip trembled, “I thought he was
harmless!”

The way he gazed at her, it was more than just concern. It took
her a while to realize it, but once she had she saw that flicker in
his gaze so clearly. The older detective, Max Eisen, wanted her. It
was something soft but masculine, a desire to do more than just
protect her. And even the ring on his hand that rubbed down her arm
didn’t keep him from feeling it for her.

“You’re not a bad woman, Eva,” he said in his
low, strong tone. “All of this isn’t your fault, and
it’ll end with you in the clear, I’m sure of it.”

It wasn’t just the anxiety. Not this time. It was something
else.

She’d run to Martin, wanting to feel safe and protected, yet
he’d made her feel anything but. He made her feel exposed raw.
He’d opened her wounds, and Max was slowly easing them shut. “I
didn’t want to tell... I didn’t want to hurt his
reputation. Doctor Sinclair...” her lip trembled, “He’s
such a good man.”

At her words he retracted his hand until their fingertips were
barely touching. As much as he might’ve been tempted to violate
his own vows over his feelings for her, it seemed, he respected her
feelings for another. “Don’t you worry. Sylvia—Mrs.
Sinclair” he corrected, “was having an affair of her own,
Eva. It’s not as clear-cut as it seems.”

“Ew,” she murmured, her gloved hand going to her
forehead, “Did he know?”

Shaking his head he said, “I don’t think so. He didn’t
indicate as such,” and with a sigh he said, “I only found
the evidence just now. I haven’t even tracked down who it could
be,” he confessed and slowly retracted his hands from her
entirely.

She nodded, relaxing back in the chair, though her eyes still
wouldn’t stop following the masculine lines of his jaw and
neck. Even after her encounter with Turing, she couldn’t stop
the curious hum beneath her skin.

“Well that’s good,” she sighed, though even she
could tell it sounded off, and a little more breathless than
expected.

With a deep intake of breath he nodded to her, “I’m
sorry you’ve been dragged into this whole thing, Eva. I don’t
want to ask anything of you, but... do you think you can answer a
question for me still?” And he looked on her with worry, not
wanting to trouble her further.

Her heart beat a bit faster, the stress and desire combining into
something new as she nodded, almost trancelike as her gaze trailed
along his strong jaw, landing upon his lips.

Licking along those pronounced lips of his he asked, “Do you
know a Terry by any chance? It’s the name on the love letters
that I just found, but I’m not sure who it refers to yet.”

Her brows furrowed, trying to think over the people she knew
before her mouth pursed, “Eww... Terrence Russell?” The
sound of disgust she made was quite unlady like. Sharing one partner
with the deceased woman was bad enough but... two?

Thinking it over a while he nodded to her. “That adds up,”
he slowly smiled to her then seemed to think it inappropriate. “It
might be Turing, it might not, Eva. Regardless, I’ll see
justice is done, and that you need not worry again,” and he
reached his hand out to hers again, lighter, more tentative this
time.

Her fingers wrapped between his, her breathing a bit harder. “With
any luck, Russell will kill Turing,” she muttered bitterly as
her body moved closer to Max’s, shifting herself forward in the
seat.

With a bit of surprise on his face at her harsh words, he looked a
bit taken aback, though it melted away quickly as she moved in
towards him and his hand held hers tighter by reflex. She could see
it again, that look of longing in him. She was so beautiful, so young
and graceful, he wanted her, but he was too good to act in a
situation like this.

She wanted to feel cleansed. To wash the foul taste out of her
mouth and disappear, if only for a little while. To succumb to
nothingness. Her eyes were lidded as she sucked in her lower lip, and
she felt that anger within her stomach bubble over, filling her with
hot, prickling need. Despite Turing’s earlier assault on her
form, it didn’t stop her craving for warm, familiar protection,
and her hand gripped Max’s tighter.

“I don’t know what Turing would do if he found out I
had that letter,” she whispered.

Speaking in a huskier tone of voice he asked, “Do you have
some place you can stay away from campus until this blows over?
Family perhaps? It might be best if you got away somewhere safe until
it was all said and done.”

She made a face of disgust, “And what would I tell my
parents? That my professor’s wife got murdered and I’m
now afraid for my life?” she scoffed. Her face moved closer,
“The only friend I could tell blames me, and I’d rather
not have the entire campus gossiping if I had someone protect me at
my own place.”

Furrowing his brow he seemed to think about it a while, “I
could put you up in a hotel for a bit if it’s that much of an
issue. You shouldn’t be alone at home if you’re so
worried about him doing something, after all,” and his hand
squeezed hers tenderly.

“I just... How did I get involved in all of this? They’re
professors, educated men! They’re not murderers and...”
she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. “I don’t
want to be alone right now,” she whimpered softly.

Pulling her arm towards him he said “C’mon. I’ll
make sure you’re safe,” he beckoned, looking intensely
like he wanted to kiss her but resisting the urge.

She couldn’t pull her gaze from his mouth, and she felt her
heartbeat quicken.

Truthfully it hadn’t been a half hour before that she’d
resolved to invite Allan over to spend the night, but now she was
having second thoughts. The young man was good for a lot of things,
but concern and comfort weren’t among them. He made her feel
safe but only because of his brute strength and endearment towards
her.

With the detective, there was something more. He was trained.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” she agreed.

Pulling her with him the two stood up, their bodies pressed
together as he held her hand. “C’mon, my car is out
front,” he said and he guided her to the door gently as he
stuffed some letters into his large, trench coat pockets.

She was so near to his bulky frame, never once letting go of his
hand and feeling that all too familiar hardness around his ring
finger. Something about it excited her—had always excited
her—and the stress of the last day had done nothing to diminish
her naturally high desire and curiosity for men.

Escorting her to his car, he helped her in with a pure gentlemanly
style. It wasn’t long before he had driven them quietly to the
nearest hotel. It was an expensive one, for a cop, but he guided her
in and checked the room out before leading her up to the place.
“Nobody gets up here without having rented a room, it’ll
be safe,” he said quietly to her as he opened the door.

Her long silence finally broken, she managed a ‘thank you,’
to him before moving in. She hadn’t brought anything with her
but for her purse, and she removed her coat gingerly. “Can you
stay a bit? We could order room service. You mustn’t have had
dinner yet, right?”

Following after her, he shut the door and it was only a moment
after hearing it click that he was behind her, nearly atop her. “I
haven’t eaten hardly all day,” he said, and the hunger in
his eyes as he gazed down at her, his hand raised to stroke along her
jawline, wasn’t for food at all.

She stiffened, but the reaction was fleeting as her gloved hand
rose to his bicep, her heartbeat quickened beneath her chest. “I
have to use the ladies,” she murmured, but she couldn’t
suppress the small smile that was creeping to her lips.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed then he nodded to
her and stepped aside, making room for her to pass. He was holding
his breath, she could tell.

She laid the coat across the desk chair and was gone for only a
few minutes before she returned, her face refreshed with a dab of
rouge, and her hat removed, the waves of her hair lovingly framing
her face. He could see her simple outfit, the blouse and the skirt
still so fitted as they showed off her feminine curves. She had
kicked off her shoes, and he could see the outline of the seam of her
stockings along the upper side of her toes.

“Did you order anything?” she asked curiously as she
closed the distance between them.

He was sat against the edge of the hardwood dresser, his hat left
in the manor it seemed and his own trench coat off so that he was in
just his charcoal suit. He looked at her, a bit transfixed, but shook
his head, “Ah, no, no,” he acted as if coming out of a
daze, “I didn’t think to,” he admitted and rubbed
the bridge of his nose.

“I see,” she smiled, her face a bit softer and her
posture more under her control. She took in a deep breath as she
removed her gloves, folding them and placing them on top of his coat.
“Will you be missed?”

Looking her over, the tall thirty-something man was quite smitten,
though with her acting more in control of herself something had
changed. She couldn’t quite place what though.

With a shake of his head he said, “They know I’m out
looking into the case, so I’ve got a bit of time,” he
stated, and whatever it was it wasn’t his desire for her, she
could detect that on his voice still.