seat, denying the shocks of disbelief and frustration goading her to beat her fists on the dashboard. Scrubbing palms over her face to restore her stoic front, she muttered, “Just a sec,” and texted Max. Where U?
An immediate ding. Towers.
A hurried, Pour me a drink.
To Babineau, she instructed, “The apartment. I need a long shower and a lot of alcohol. Wanna join me?”
“For the shower?”
Coaxed into a reluctant snort by his nonchalance, she amended, “For the drink.”
“Thanks, but I’ve got both of those waiting at home and could really use them to get rid of the stink of this whole day. You and I both know he was murdered to shut him up.”
“Whatchu gonna do?”
He glanced her way after easing into traffic, not buying her indifference. “What are you planning to do? Nothing suicidal, career-wise, I hope?”
“I’m no more suicidal than Brady was. They can put him in the ground, but they’re not burying the truth with him.”
“I repeat, don’t do nothing dumb.” He followed that warning with the flash of his grin. “At least, not without me.”
– – –
The apartment lay in shadows. Firelight shimmered through two crystal glasses. Only the sight of Max Savoie stretched out naked in front of the blaze could have made the mood more inviting. Until the shower turned on.
Turning her on along with it.
Discarded clothing marked her unhurried walk to a bathroom wreathed in ribbons of steam where candlelight teased an enticing silhouette behind clouded glass. Strongly defined arms; sleek black hair accentuating a roughly-cut profile; shoulders that could carry her heaviest load; long, sleek torso; and, that ass . . . The best cardio she’d had all day. Charlotte stepped inside and into a ready embrace that held her, just held her, as heat built and tension eased. Finally, she tipped her head back to receive his eloquent greeting.
“You have no idea how much I needed this,” she whispered into his slow, smoldering welcome home kiss.
“Oh, sha, I think I do.” He made his point with sucking nibbles down the arch of her throat, pausing to lap from the shallow pool of her collarbone before nipping along her shoulder. She moaned and tugged his mouth back to hers.
Large, patient hands soaped and massaged until knots of stress melted. Palms adored that taut, tender bump of new life, charted strong, curvy lines, teasing, cupping, caressing away worries until this moment, this man was all that existed in her world. Her head fell back as he went to his knees until hers were incapable of supporting her, body shuddering, worries dissolving, replete as his arms surrounded her once more.
Rocked by the promising thunder of his heartbeats, Cee Cee closed her eyes, adrift and dreamy as he turned off the water, towel dried them both, and transported her to the waiting hearth. Stretched out before its embracing warmth, harsh realities faded to manageable topics of conversation encouraged by warmed, non-alcoholic wine made more romantic by sips from each other’s glasses. Then, speaking what preyed upon hearts and minds came with relief instead of reluctance.
“Atcliff made me drop the investigation. Brady’s death is going down as suicide.”
“And that angers you? Why? Isn’t dead, dead?”
Frowning at that practical reply, she argued, “That ends our chance to tie in Blutafino and any others involved.”
“It also shuts the door on a lot of issues that don’t need exposure in the full light of day.”
Things like their clan and Brady’s daughters. And the genetic war brewing like a dangerous squall in the Gulf. Cee Cee couldn’t argue that. A magnifying glass wasn’t something they could afford, but the injustice of it all refused to go down easily. Even with another small glass of that placating red.
“He gets away with it. Those who rode on his coattails get away with it. And now that Brady’s an established scapegoat, blame for everything from Blutafino’s crimes to public jaywalking will be dumped on his doorstep because he’s not rotting in some prison, able to deny it. It’s not right.”
Max soothed a hand from squared shoulders to the taut mound of her belly. “No, it’s not. But it protects those who would suffer from that lengthy trial. And perhaps with him out of the way, my aunt’s grip on our city will weaken.”
“Or another replaces him.” Troubled thoughts leapt to the mysterious female Dr. Jones described. Another player they’d yet to identify. Firelight glittered in her dark eyes as frustration and betrayal filled them. “They win. Any way you look at it, they win.