My Killer Vacation — Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Taylor

ast night was a doozy.L

In oh so many ways.

What happened with Myles… Well, I’m not sure what happened with Myles.

I must be very extremely naïve because when he carried me into the house, I thought we were going to make out.

Roughhouse. Maybe, at the very most, do some heavy petting. I don’t blame women for having sex on the first date. Actually I think it’s a wonderful time saver, finding out up front if you’ve got a dud. In the past, I’ve needed several dates before I’m even comfortable beingalone with the man, let alone allowing him to breach the inner sanctum.

It’s only happened a few times in my life. I’m a real tough sell.

Not for Myles, apparently. As soon as he put his hands on me, it was a race to the finish line. I couldn’t get close

enough. Couldn’t experience enough. Pulse hammering, mouth dry, legs trembling, panties sodden. I mean, who

was what?

I like her.

Stepping out of the glass-enclosed shower stall, I dry off slowly while looking in the mirror, turning my head left and right to observe the faint whisker marks on my neck. A hot shiver passes through me, zapping straight down to my toes and leaving them tingling. I’m still keyed up. I never came down, not the entire night, despite the police arriving to take our statements and deal with a hyper-pissed-off Myles. As soon as he let me out of the bathroom last night, he stood behind me with crossed arms and a scowl while I talked to the police. And then he led me upstairs, deposited me unceremoniously in the bedroom…and never came back.

I take my bikini top off the peg and tie it on. The nylon chafes my sensitive nipples and I let out a bumpy exhale.

My eyes drift shut automatically and scenes begin to play out in my mind, the way they’ve done all night. The way he looked at my breasts. Hungrily. His fist winding the back of my panties, tightening the lace between my legs until one little yank could have given me an orgasm. The smooth, heavy slide of him into my mouth and the way he towered over me, hips thrusting in crude grinds. Flexing his authority while being totally at my mercy. I’ve never felt so incredible. So bold.

I lean forward and brace my forearms on the bathroom vanity. I’m still slightly damp from the shower and I press my thighs together now. Hard. Watch my breath fog the

mirror. I think of him behind me, hulking and irritable. He takes his shirt off and throws it on the floor, grips my hips and jerks them backward into his lap.

Good girl, he says. And I barely trap a moan. Why do I like that so much? I should hate it. I shouldn’t want to be put on my knees and have liberties taken with my mouth when this man has been such an unholy jerk toward me, but I’m so drawn to him, it hurts. The sting of his palm on my bottom woke me up, made me gasp for air, for mental purchase. I was painfully awake…and while I want more, I’m worried. I told him I wouldn’t let my strings attach

themselves to him and I meant it.

I meant it.

But I didn’t expect how I would respond to him. So it’s probably for the best that he didn’t come back last night and finish what we started. It’s for the best if I take a step back.

There’s no law against fantasizing, though.

Permission makes me loose limbed. Makes my breathing pick up as I bend forward over the sink and press my mouth to the crook of my elbow, two fingers slowly delving between the shower-softened folds of my sex. A sound shudders out of me when I find my clit, teasing the edges.

Surrounded as I am by steam from my shower, the bathroom is intimate. I’m alone. I’m allowed. To rake my teeth down the sensitive inner flesh of my arm and push down on my button of flesh, rubbing it more roughly than I normally would, trying to chase the high from last night, even though I know, I somehowknow he’s the only one who can give it to me.

I can find a little relief, though. I can— “Taylor!” My brother’s voice is muffled, coming from beyond the bathroom and bedroom. Out in the hallway.

“Breakfast is on the table. I made waffles. Figured we could use that homemade boysenberry syrup we bought at the farmer’s market yesterday morning.”

My forehead hits the mirror. “Damn,” I whisper, sides heaving, no idea if I’m still slick from the shower or layered in sweat. I can’t believe I didn’t pack my vibrator. It just seemed like a weird thing to do when going on vacation with my brother. I’m way out of practice with manual masturbation. For all I know this will take all morning.

They’ll send a search party and find me in here trying to

convince my fingers to vibrate.

“Are you okay in there?” Jude calls.

“Yes,” I croak, clearing my throat, pushing off the sink.

Jude walked through the front door last night while I was being questioned by the police and turned as white as swan feathers. The last thing I want to do is worry him more. “Be right down.”

I fan my flushed neck on the way into the bedroom, pulling on bathing suit bottoms and a loose pair of black cotton pants. One good thing came from my sleepless night, at least. In the interest of getting some distance from the bounty hunter and regaining control of this vacation, I booked a Groupon for a snorkeling lesson for today. All the

way on the other side of the Cape.

Yes. Distance.

Perspective.

Both good things.

Which must be why I’m standing at the window and looking down at where Myles slept last night. On the porch of the house with a gun tucked into his waistband. He’s still there now, looking at something on his phone. A notebook rests on his thigh.

On your back, Taylor. Panties off. I swear to God, I’m going to fuck you sideways.

My sex squeezes at the memory of what we almost did.

It would have been wild.I would have been wild, welcoming his strength, begging him to use it on me. And he would have. I can’t help but be grateful toward Myles.

For once, a man not treating me like I’m good for introducing to mom and nothing more. I was a sexual being last night. A woman.

Unfortunately, I didn’t just feel physically close to the bounty hunter. So much more went into giving him my trust. More than I realized. And when he didn’t come back last night, he left me exposed. A kite in the wind. I didn’t realize he’d have that kind of effect on me and I don’t think I should let it happen again. Not when he’s spelled out very clearly that he spits in the eye of love and tradition and everything I’m looking for.

As if he can feel my eyes wandering over the thick breadth of his shoulders, Myles tilts his head back and our gazes clash in the window. His expression heats, his mouth pressing together in a grim line. When the fluttering in my stomach begins to spread lower, I step back hastily, reaching for the hairbrush on my bed and raking it quickly through my hair. I dab on some moisturizer with SPF and apply some crushed apple lip balm before leaving the

bedroom. When I get downstairs, my brother is sitting at the kitchen table in front of his plate of untouched waffles.

“You should have started without me.”

“Hey.” He ignores that, passing me the boysenberry syrup as soon as I sit down. “How are you feeling?”

We both turn to look at the first floor guest room. Glass has been swept into a corner and thick, construction grade plastic taped over the window. “Fine. Do you think I should call Lisa and explain what happened with the window? I hate to bother her about something so stressful when she’s grieving her brother.”

Jude chews on the tines of his fork. “Myles probably already called Lisa. You mentioned he’s only doing this job as a favor to her boyfriend, but he still has to keep her apprised of happenings. And a buoy through the window was most definitely a happening.”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “You’re probably right.”

We’re silent while spreading butter on our waffles and dousing them in syrup. “Speaking of the private investigator…” Jude squints an eye in my direction, lowers his voice. “When you told the police you and Myles were ‘just talking’ in the bedroom during the buoy incident, you were doing that rapid blinking thing you do when you’re lying.” His lips twist to hide a smile, fork digging into a bite of waffle. “I’m not prying. Just…you know. I’m surprised by your choice of vacation hookup. Not in abad way. Just in a surprised way.”

My face is the color of a stop sign. “I mean, therewas talking while we were in the bedroom. That wasn’t a total lie.”

Jude looks at me while he chews, amused and saying nothing.

“I, um…” I fumble with my silverware. “Well—”

“You don’t have to tell me, T.”

“I want to. It’s just that you’re usually the one telling me aboutyour love life. It’s not usually this way around.”

He smiles around a bite. “You’re too kind to call my meaningless hookups a love life, T.”

“Have you spoken to Dante lately?” I ask before I can think better of it.

Jude stops chewing, quickly looks down at his plate.

When he finally swallows, it’s like he’s ingesting a fish hook. Why on earth did I say that? How stupid of me to bring up his best friend in the same breath as his love life.

Now it seems like I am lumping in one with the other and that is definitely not the case. Probably. I don’t know. “No.

He’s filming, I think?” He laughs, but I can tell it’s forced.

“Last week he was in Singapore. This week he’s in New York. I don’t know. I can’t keep track of him anymore. I

stopped trying.”

Just let it drop.

I’m having a lot of trouble doing that lately. “He used to call on Sundays. He doesn’t do that anymore?”

Jude hesitates. “He does. I’m just…usually in the middle of something. Or he fucks up the time zones and I’m asleep.” He rolls a shoulder. “We’ll touch base eventually.”

I nod. “Good. Tell him I said hi.”

“I will.” Jude tips his head toward the porch where Myles is now pacing back and forth, speaking in a low voice

into his phone. “He camped out there all night. Guarding you.”

“Guardingus,” I clarify, licking syrup off the tip of my pinkie. “And I think he’s just lying in wait so he can catch the perp if they return to the scene of the crime.”

“Are you sure about that?” I’m glad to see the characteristic amusement back on Jude’s face. Just not about this. “Dude seems kind of smitten.”

A skeptical laugh bursts out of me. “What is your definition of smitten? Because last night, I’m pretty sure he called me a spring bridezilla waiting to happen.”

Jude chokes and I jump to my feet, prepared to perform the Heimlich maneuver.

Eyes watery, he waves me off. “I’m fine. Oh my God, he

didn’t.”

“He did.”

“And you still…talked…to him? Before the buoy hit?”

“Yes.” I’ve only just picked up my fork, but I set it back down with athunk. “Oh my god, I hooked up with him after he called me a future bridezilla. What iswrong with me?”

Jude blows out a breath. “Maybe you’re attracted to his honesty.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’ll jam this fork into his rectum—”

Someone clears their throat from the front entrance.

Jude’s and my heads whip around to find Myles leaning against the doorjamb, notebook at his side. Watching me.

Wary, as usual. “Morning,” he drawls, pushing off the frame and sauntering into the kitchen. “Going to steal some coffee. Figure you won’t mind, since I spent the night protecting your asses.”

“No one asked you to do that,” I say brightly. “We can look after ourselves.”

He grunts, back muscles shifting beneath his T-shirt as he fills a mug.

I’m not at all interested in the way those ancient jeans

hug his butt.

Couldn’t careless.

Jude is looking between me and Myles, growing more and more uncomfortable by the minute. My brother hates sustained silences. Both of us do, really, because my parents enforced a no talking at dinner rule after particularly harried workdays. They were tired. They’d placed us neatly in our boxes and nothing I said could change their impression of me. If I rode my bike with no hands for a whole five seconds or volunteered to say the Pledge of Allegiance on the loudspeaker at school, I was still play-it-safe Taylor to them. Somewhere along the line, I stopped trying to change their mind.And my own.

All those years ago, Jude and I would sit in silence at our dining room table, side by side, bursting with news from school and friendships, we were forced to swallow it down until we could debrief later, alone in the patch of hallway between our rooms. Now as adults, we tend to chatter to fill any conversational voids, especially at meals.Not this time, I try to communicate with a shake of my head at Jude, but he’s turning red with the need to say something, anything. “Throw yourself on a waffle, if you want,” Jude says, sounding like a burst balloon. “The griddle is still on.”

The bounty hunter grins at me over his stupidly huge shoulder. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Jude mouths an apology to me. His phone lights up on the table, momentarily distracting him. With a swallow, he quickly shoves the device into the pocket of his board shorts. The action is not lost on me, but I can hardly question it right now. Not with an ogre in our midst.

“What’s on the agenda for the day, big guy?” Jude asks the bounty hunter. “Car chase? Chalk outline tutorial?”

I shake my head at my brother in disappointment.

“I don’t share leads with suspects,” states the infuriating man.

“Really?” I exclaim. “We’restill suspects even after someone threw a buoy through our window?”

“Jude doesn’t have an alibi during the time of the buoy tossing. Could have been him trying to throw me off your trail.”

Based on the bounty hunter’s casual tone of voice—and the fact that his back is facing me despite an assortment of knives resting on the table—he doesn’treally suspect us.

But the fact that he won’t mark us off the list or freely share information angers me all the same.

“I should have called the police last night when I found the gun, instead of you. Officer Wright is much better at communicating.”

“Wright runs his mouth. He shouldn’t have told you jack shit to begin with.” I was wrong. Myles is not in a casual mood at all. When he turns around, his knuckles are so white around the mug of coffee, I brace for it to shatter.

“These are the consequences of him sharing classified information with you. Now someone is out there pissed off

that you’re digging. Pissed off enough to do something that could lead to you gettinghurt. Do you understand that?”

I twist around in my seat. “Use your indoor voice, please. There is no need to shout at me.”

“I’m not shouting.”

“You might as well be shouting!”

He looks at me like I’ve just grown a horn in the dead center of my forehead. “What are your plans for the day? I don’t want you going anywhere without me.”

“Unless you want to go snorkeling, that’s going to be pretty difficult.”

“Snorkeling.” He pauses in the middle of dumping batter onto the griddle. “Someone sent you a clear threat last night and you’re going snorkeling?”

“Jude isamazing at anything water related,” I say, patting his arm. “There’s no reason we have to let a broken

window ruin his vacation.”

“Our vacation,” my brother corrects me.

“Yes, that’s what I meant.”

When it grows silent in the kitchen, I turn to find Myles frowning at me. He looks like he wants to say something, but he coughs into a fist and turns to monitor his waffle.

“You’re one of these people who plans a lot of activities on vacation, instead of lying on the beach and taking it easy like everyone else, aren’t you?”

“I can lie around and relax at home. A vacation is a chance for doing.” I add more boysenberry syrup to my plate for dipping. “What do you do for fun on vacation?

Make fun of babies? Push old ladies down steep hills in shopping carts?”

Jude snorts into his coffee, clearly entertained.

Myles doesn’t give us the satisfaction of a rejoinder, though. No, he drops his plate on the table and sits down, taking a long sip of coffee. “Cancel the snorkeling, all

right?”

“No way.”

“I need to meet with the police today. They’ve agreed to share a copy of the ballistics report. The coroner is coming back today or tomorrow with a TOD. I don’t have time to babysit you while you look at starfish.”

“TOD is time of death,” I whisper across the table to my brother.

Jude sets down his mug, affronted. “All right, look,” he says, looking at Myles. “You’re obviously a lot more qualified to act as a bodyguard, but I’ll be with her when we go snorkeling. I wouldn’t let something happen to my sister.”

“You’re right, I am a lot more qualified,” Myles says without missing a beat.

All traces of Jude’s affable nature are gone. “I can handle myself.”

Myles raises a dubious eyebrow at Jude, coolly sipping

his coffee.

That does it. I’m going to stab him.

Double Homicide on the Cape. It’s going straight to the top of the podcast charts.

“You seem doubtful. Why?” Jude leans back in his chair.

“Because I’m gay?”

The bounty hunter calmly reaches for the syrup. “Nope.

My brother is gay and he’d scare the balls off an ox.”

Jude tilts his head at me.

As if to say,didn’t see that coming.

Join the club. I haven’t foreseenany of the curves this man has thrown me. In fact, I’m only now remembering how he opened up to me on the beach last night about his divorce and the kidnapping case. He shared with me. And my gut says that wasn’t easy for him. Or typical. He’s not very easy to stuff into a labeled box, this man.Dang it.

“You said…” I resume eating, because I need something to do with my hands. “Didn’t you say your brother is a detective in Boston?”

A curt nod from the bounty hunter. “On his way to a promotion last I heard.”

“You don’t speak to him very often?” Jude asks.

“Never. And before you ask, it’s not because he’s gay.”

He shoves a bite into his mouth, talking around it like we’re eating in a barn “We don’t talk because he’s a prick.” He jabs the air between us with a fork. “Where are you going snorkeling? I’ll call and postpone it for you.”

The smile I send him is pure saccharine. “Join us if you must, but we are going snorkeling. I already paid for the Groupon”

“Hey.” Jude holds up his phone, the screen of which is covered in messages. “Do you mind if I invite the burger guys from yesterday?”

A snicker sneaks out of me. “Is that how you labeled them in your phone?”

Jude grins. “Yup. There’s an asterisk and a note here, too.” He taps the phone to his lips. “The blond one liked

grilled onions and sauerkraut on his burger. Steering clear.”

“Wise move.” I stand up and begin to gather the dishes.

“Their names were Jessie, Quinton and Ryan. And invite them of course, the more the merrier.”

Jude hesitates, splitting a look between me and Myles.

“Ryan is the straight one who just got his MBA in finance, right?”

I have to think about it. My mind was pretty stuck on the case last night. And on a certain grouchy bounty hunter, but I won’t be admittingthat part to anyone. “Yes, I think so.”

My brother hums. “He was asking about you, T. After you left. He was disappointed when you didn’t come back.”

Myles’s knife scrapes his plate, long and loud.

We stare at him awaiting an explanation.

The seconds tick by.

“Keep your distance from Burger Guys,” Myles draws out, finally. “They’re suspects, too.”

Me and Jude throw up our hands. “Oh, come on. That doesn’t make any sense,” I say. “What possible motive could they have?”

“Might not be clear until it’s too late.” The bounty hunter jerks his chin at Jude. “You met them on the beach?”

“Yeah…” Jude responds warily.

“Did they introduce themselves to you? Or the other way around?”

“They approached me.” Jude polishes an invisible apple on his shirt. “They usually do.”

“The guilty party will often find a way to insert themselves into the investigation.” Myles scoots his chair back with a loud scrape and brings his plate to the sink, frowning at us over his shoulder. “For all I know, you’re all in cahoots.”

It finally dawns on me. He’s messing with us.

“This is your playful side, isn’t it? You look like a bear with his paw caught in a beehive, but you’re actually joking around.”

Myles totally ignores my hypothesizing on his way to the front door. “I’m going downtown to remind the police I’m not going away. I’ll be back in half an hour.” He slides on a pair of Ray-Bans but they do nothing to hide his sour expression. “I guess we’re going snorkeling.”

“Thank you in advance for scaring off all the fish!”

The door rattles on the hinges in the wake of his departure.

“Oh my God.” Jude falls back in his chair, face wreathed in amusement. “The sexual tension between you two has escalated. I didn’t think that was possible.”

“There is no…” My shoulders slump. I pretend to cry.

“Fine. I know.”

“Maybe it’s the perfect vacation fling,” he points out with his fork. “You don’t even like each other. There’s no chance of anyone getting attached.”

A motorcycle engine cranks to life outside, accelerates,

roars off down the block.

And then it’s gone altogether.

“Yeah.” I force a smile. “It’s perfect.”

I’m standing at the sink a few minutes later scrubbing down the breakfast dishes, when there’s a knock at the door. I trade a surprised look with Jude, who is still sitting at the table scrolling through his phone. “I’ll get it,” he says.

I draw a butcher knife out of the wooden block on the counter. “I’ll come with you.”

Jude muffles a laugh with his hand. “You could never in a million years use that for anything but chopping onions.”

“I could nick someone,” I whisper back. “Long enough to stun them and run.”

He ruffles my hair, tugs me into his side and we approach the door together. When we reach the entrance, he leans in and looks through the peephole, rocking back on his heels with a lot less tension in his frame. “It’s a woman. Young. I don’t recognize her.”

I take a turn looking through the hole. “Hmm. Can we help you?” I call through the door while making a stabbing motion with the knife. Jude’s shoulders shake with silent mirth.

“Yes! Hi!” the woman answers brightly. “I have a quick question about the recent murder that took place across

the street. Could you help me out?”

“What is your question?”

She hesitates. “I don’t really feel comfortable doing this through the door.”

I shrug at my brother. He shrugs back. “Two of us. One of her,” he whispers. “Plus you’re packing.”

“Right.” I turn the lock. “Okay, we’re coming out.”

As soon as the door opens, a man steps into view.

With a camera on his shoulder.

The woman produces a microphone from behind her back and holds it in front of my face. “Is it true that you are the one who discovered the body?”

I blink at my reflection in the camera lens. “Um…”

With a curse, Jude herds me back into the house and slams the door. But not before the reporter can fire off a second question. “Our sources tell us someone threw a buoy through your window last night. Is it true you’re being

targeted?”

Jude turns the lock.

We slowly back away from the door.

“Targeted,” I snort. “That’s a little extreme, isn’t it?”

“So extreme,” Jude confirms. Then, “Right, T?”

I haven’t really taken the time to process the repercussions of the buoy being chucked through the window, but having it laid out in such stark terms has my stomach bubbling.

“Let’s fail to mention this to the bounty hunter. Just in case he’s not thrilled about us appearing on a camera that was definitely rolling,” I suggest, setting the knife down on the closest surface. “It’s probably not a big deal. It’s not like we answered her.”

My brother’s laugh turns into a gulp. “Right.”

“Maybe we should go before he comes back.”

“You read my mind.”