Rough Road: A Bad Boy MC Romance, page 25
“There’s no reason you should.”
“Why didn’t it go off when I let myself in the back door?”
“I didn’t turn it on when I left the house in case you got back before I did.”
“Portia, when you stop by the station tomorrow bring the details of the system with you,” the detective interjected. “Can you come in around two o’clock?”
“That’s okay with me,” she replied. “What about you, Koda?”
“No problem.”
“One more thing,” David continued. “Did Hazel say anything of note while she was here?”
“She did,” Koda declared. “She boasted that Eddie worked for her, but she and Dean planned to kill him and someone beat her to it.”
A dark frown crossed David’s brow.
“The hood who was with her tonight.”
“Yes.”
“I see. Well, thank you, and I’ll leave you in peace. The boys shouldn’t be too long.”
“Before you go, Detective, I have a question,” Koda said, leaning across the table. “If someone was forced to run money through a business by a criminal enterprise, would they be prosecuted for hiding it and not going to the police—and just to be clear, I’m not talking about myself.”
“It would depend on the circumstances, but tell whoever it is you’re asking for, I don’t victimize victims, and I’m interested in gathering as much information as I can. That won’t happen if people are afraid to talk to me. In other words, I won’t be going after any of the people Calhoun targeted. Have them come in with a lawyer, and we’ll work it out. I hope that will put their mind at rest.”
“It should. Thanks.”
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow,” David said, rising to his feet. “Try and get some rest. You’ve been through quite an ordeal, but it appears this whole ugly business is over. People can get on with their lives.”
“Amen to that,” Portia mumbled. “I wanted to be a crime journalist, but now I’m not so sure.”
As the detective left, Koda reached across the table and took her hand.
“For what it’s worth, I’d be much happier if you weren’t. I don’t fancy you taking off in the middle of the night to meet unsavory characters in dark alleys.”
“No kidding. The last time I did that I was almost attacked by a filthy vagrant, a biker took me into this bizarre room and ravaged me, then all kinds of hell broke loose!”
“No shit?” Koda said with a chuckle. “Not something you should make a habit of.”
“I think I might turn my hand to writing books instead.” Then letting out a sigh, she looked at him with pleading eyes. “Will you please take me to bed and hold me all night?”
“Try and stop me,” he murmured, leaning in and softly kissing her.
“I love you, Koda King,” she whispered as they broke apart.
“I love you too, princess.”
“Would you find out how much longer the cops will be here?”
“Sure, but there’s one thing I need to do first,” he said, sitting back and picking up his phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“Sam. He can bring his family home.”
* * *
The police had finally left. With Antony and Cleopatra lying next to the bed, Portia curled into Koda’s powerful arms. Hearing his heart pump strong and steady, she closed her eyes and let out a long breath. The stress of the drama began to evaporate, but as the reassuring drumbeat lulled her into a gentle doze, she vaguely wondered how her parents would react to her engagement. Abruptly realizing she didn’t care, a soft smile curled her lips.
Koda was the one.
He always had been.
Nothing, and no one, would stand in the way of her happiness.
Sinking into a deep sleep, disjointed visions came and went, and when she felt Koda’s hard member pushing inside her, she thought it was a marvelous, lucid dream.
“You feel so fucking good, princess.”
It was no dream.
She was lying on her side, her back to him, and his hands gently kneaded her breasts as he pumped with slow, measured thrusts. Moaning softly, she savored the touch of his fingers tickling her skin on their journey down her torso, and as he teased her clit, his massage was soft, almost languid, rubbing in gentle swirls. Though his hold was inescapable and his control profound, he was making love to her with an unfamiliar tenderness.
“My beautiful girl.”
“Koda,” she murmured, trying to move in response, but his hold was too strong, and melting into him like an ice cream on a hot summer day, she felt the shadow of an orgasm.
“Don’t chase it, princess. Let it take you over.”
Softly mewling as tingles moved through her limbs, his mouth fell on her shoulder lightly nipping her skin. Gasping, she tried to wriggle, but he clamped her against him.
“No.”
His simple command and tenacious hold provoked a rush of arousal, and as his strong, slow strokes quickened, her climax felt a hair’s breadth away.
“Koda...”
“Shh... just feel...”
As she bleated through the first ripple, his steady thrusting continued, carrying her into the next spasm, but this time sparks shot through her body. Suddenly she was being lifted, taken higher and higher by a huge, almost frightening tidal surge.
“I’ve got you,” he panted. “Let go.”
The powerful convulsion seized her, but his hand quickly covered her mouth, muffling her euphoric screams as electric currents crackled through her body and bright flashbulbs popped in her head. The only thing keeping her in one piece was his engulfing embrace—then abruptly it was over.
Lost in the delicious post-orgasmic euphoria, she was only faintly aware of his member slipping from her sex, but as she came out of the sensuous, serene state, she rolled over to face him.
“Good morning, princess,” he murmured, kissing her softly.
“Mmm, good morning. You’ve never made love to me like that. It was... beautiful.”
“Yeah. Like you.”
“Like the life we’re going to share.”
“That too.”
The subdued ring of his phone sounded from his pants pocket.
“Damn,” he grunted. “I guess that’s the real world calling.”
“Koda, leave it.”
“With everything that’s going on that’s probably a good idea, but I’d better,” he muttered, leaning over the side of the bed to retrieve it. “Holy shit! Portia, it’s five after ten.”
“Seriously? Good grief.”
“Hello? Oh, good morning, Detective. No, you’re not disturbing us.”
“Much,” Portia grumbled, climbing from the bed.
Leaving him to the call, she quickly let the dogs out, and returning to find him deep in conversation, she padded into the bathroom to take a shower.
The hot water splashing over her body felt divine. So did washing her hair and styling it to look sleek, straight, and shiny. Donning her robe and stepping back into the bedroom, she found Koda still in bed propped up by the pillows.
“Have you been on the phone all this time?”
“Yep. There’s been a major development, but don’t worry, it’s not bad news. Not for us.”
“Okay, I’m listening,” she said warily, moving across the room and sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Both Dean and Hazel were found dead this morning. Dean in his cell, Hazel in her hospital bed.”
She stared at him, completely dumbfounded.
“They were poisoned. Obviously something slow acting, but it hasn’t been identified yet. Detective Monroe already had a team searching Hazel’s house. Now they’re hunting for the source.”
“Holy crap. So the killer has wiped out the entire group.”
“Unless there are others we don’t know about, but yeah, he’s chopped off the head of the snake.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“Detective Monroe also confirmed the businesses Hazel and Eddie exploited are off the hook, including mine, so Sam and Bebe have nothing to worry about. Hey, what’s wrong,” he asked, seeing her forehead crinkle and her eyes brimming with tears.
“Nothing, I guess it’s just relief—and joy—and yeah—all that.”
“I know, princess, it’s a helluva thing.”
“How did we survive?”
“Maybe we have an angel on our shoulder.”
“Do Benny and Bebe know everything that’s happened?” she asked, slowly pulling back as her tears began to pass.
“I called Robbie and Benny after I finished talking to the detective. They both asked the same question. Who’s the killer?”
“Yeah. Who the hell is the killer?” she repeated. “Any ideas?”
“None, and I probably shouldn’t say this, but I hope he’s never caught. Whoever sent those dirtbags to burn in hell deserves a fucking medal. I wish I could take him out and toast his success. Speaking of which, Benny suggested a celebration dinner.”
“I’m not quite ready for something like that. Can we wait for a bit?”
“Of course we can, and I agree.”
“Good,” she murmured, sinking back against his chest. “As for tonight I want a quiet evening. Just you, me, and the dogs, with pizza and wine in front of the TV.”
“A slice of normal?”
“Yes! A slice of normal.”
* * *
Benny had provided Detective Monroe details of the inner workings of Eddie’s criminal organization. The tough, tattooed biker with the piercing blue eyes was surprisingly observant and equally smart. He’d even fooled Calhoun into thinking he was halfway across the country.
Benny had described Eddie as a mercurial figure, one minute easygoing, the next ready to fly off the handle over nothing. The profile left David believing the killer had been a member of the gang Eddie had pushed too far. With cameras covering the compound, and a security room where activity both inside and outside the house was watched and recorded, the detective was optimistic he’d soon identify the perp.
At his desk studying the file, a knock on his door caught his attention. Marianne, the station’s data analyst and IT expert, entered his office. She was extremely personable, and though he greeted her with a smile, her grim expression remained.
“Uh-oh. Why do I think I’m about to hear something I’d rather not?”
“I’m really sorry, Detective, I’m afraid it’s not good news.”
“Have a seat and tell me,” he said with a resigned sigh.
“In the briefing you said you believed the alarm wasn’t raised when the intruder entered the compound. With the cameras being monitored from the security room, you couldn’t understand why. I have the answer. All the surveillance had been turned off.”
“Dammit!” he grunted. “So whoever it was managed to gain control of the security room, then systemically walked around the compound and shot everyone.”
“That’s how it appears, sir. Nothing recorded. None of the listening devices, cameras, nothing. That’s probably how the tire slasher was able to go about his business too. He wouldn’t have been seen. Sorry, I wish I’d brought you better news.”
“I do too, Marianne. I do too.”
“Has your witness been able to remember anything else about the shooter?”
“Nope. Just slight of build, though that eliminates several prime suspects. The Tornadoes are all built like Mack trucks. I’ll keep at it, but it’s a tough one. When will you have a list of Calhoun’s victims?”
“We’re doing our best to put something together. You should have it by this afternoon.”
“Maybe that will shed some light on our very clever killer.”
“I’m sure something will turn up,” she said, rising to her feet. “It always does.”
“You’re right. It’s still early days. Thanks, Marianne.”
As she walked out, a young officer poked his head in.
“Excuse me, sir, there’s someone in the lobby insisting on seeing you. He says it’s important. His name is Benjamin Wilder.”
“Show him in.”
“Yes, sir.”
David took a breath. Benny wouldn’t show without good reason. Waiting anxiously, he prayed Benny remembered something.
“Hi, Detective. I’m so glad you’re here!” Benny said excitedly as the officer ushered him in. “I tried to call but your phone went to voicemail, and the main switchboard said you couldn’t be disturbed, but this can’t wait. I know who killed Calhoun.”
Chapter Thirty-One
An odd drumming throbbed between his temples. For a moment Detective Monroe thought he might pass out, but he understood the symptom. His bizarre, frighteningly accurate inner voice said Benny had the answer. Darting his eyes up, he found the animated biker leaning over his desk, his eyes wide and his breathing ragged.
“Benny, take a seat and catch your breath,” David said, to do just that himself.
“It’s been staring me in the face the whole time,” Benny exclaimed, abruptly straightening up and dramatically throwing his arms in the air. “I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to see it.”
“Benny, please, sit down and explain.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Benny apologized, abruptly dropping into a chair. “Detective, how many bodies did you find? Five, right?”
“Yes, five.”
“There should have been six.”
“There should have been six?” David repeated. “You’ve lost me.”
“Besides Eddie, there was Jimbo, that was his sometime driver, and three of Eddie’s minions. Ron, Bill, and Al. They were all idiots. There’s Cody too, but he was Dean’s lackey, and Dean was in the hospital so he wouldn’t have been there. So—that’s Eddie,” Benny continued, holding up his hand with his fingers spread to count them off, “Jimbo, Ron, Bill, and Al. Five. Not six. Where was Arthur?”
“Who’s Arthur?”
“Arthur! I mentioned him in our interview, remember? He worked for Eddie full time. He was his computer guy, his whiz kid. He was in charge of all the security, all the techie stuff, and he—”
“Stop!” David said suddenly, jerking his hand up. “Let me get this straight. This Arthur kid was in charge of the security? Is that what you said?”
“Yes, yes, that’s what I said, and I mentioned him in our interview. The point is he would’ve been there for sure. So where was his body? Nowhere, because it was him! He was the shooter.”
“That explains how the surveillance was turned off,” David muttered as his head began to process the information. “Arthur turned it off himself.”
“The cameras were off? Holy shit,” Benny exclaimed. “I didn’t know that. The cameras were never turned off.”
“Well, they were at the time of the carnage, and probably when you entered the compound, but, Benny, you saw the killer in the garage. Think carefully! Was it Arthur?”
Benny paused, dropped his eyes, and ran his fingers through his hair.
“Honestly, Detective, I can’t say for certain, but it could have been. He was slightly built, and Arthur is like that. I have to be honest. As much as all the pieces fit, there’s one thing that makes me doubt myself.”
“Go on.”
“Arthur was a nerd, and he was scared of his own shadow. How could he shoot anyone with such cold precision, let alone four burly guys and a lunatic like Eddie Calhoun? He was terrified of Eddie, and he was weak and skinny as a rail. If he picked up a gun, I can’t imagine he’d be able to hold it for very long, let alone shoot the damn thing.”
“That’s bizarre,” David mumbled, “but bear in mind, these killings weren’t spur of the moment. The attack was calculated and planned. It’s possible he took the time to learn how to shoot.”
“I suppose. I just know he should’ve been there, and if he was off running an errand or something, he would’ve been in touch by now, right?”
“Probably, though you never know. He might be in hiding, worried he’ll be next.”
Taking a minute to think about David’s comment, Benny shook his head.
“No, he’s not hiding because he’s scared of being the next victim. He’s hiding because he’s the killer. Think about this! He didn’t have to break in, he was already there. Not only that, he had access to every room in the house, and he could observe everything going on. He would have known where everyone was before he made his move.”
“All that’s very true,” David agreed solemnly, “but for me the most compelling piece of evidence is the security room. He was in charge of it, and the cameras were turned off.”
“It has to be him,” Benny said, lowering his voice. “Aside from his personality, everything else fits.”
“Well, regardless, he needs to be found,” David exclaimed. “Tell me what you know about him. Give me a description.”
“Thin, probably around 120 pounds, maybe 5′6″ tall, if that, and he wears brown all the time. Light brown, dark brown, but brown. His hair is brown too, and it’s dead straight.”
“Got it,” the detective mumbled, writing the information on a pad. “I’m putting out an APB right away. All the airports, train stations, cab companies, and bus depots will know about this. What’s his last name? Where does he live? Do you know where he hangs out? Friends, relatives, anything you can think of.”
“His last name is Peabody, but that’s about it. He never talked much.”
“What kind of car did he drive?”
“Car? I have no idea. I never saw him arrive or leave. He was always there.”
“Did he live with Eddie?”
“No, I don’t think so. Maybe. Sorry, I never paid much attention to him. He barely spoke, and never looked at me if he did. He never looked at anyone.”
“I’m going to put you with our composite artist. She’ll create an image of Arthur and we can get it out. Do you think he’d show up on any of the security footage?”
“I would think so. There were cameras all over that compound.”
“Yeah, I know, we found them. Do the composite sketch, that will give us something to work with, then I want you to watch the videos and see if you can spot him. It will be tedious, and it might take—”
