Page 23 of Sugar Free (Sugar Bowl 3)

"I deserved it."

"No, you didn't."

He pulls back and then kisses me sweetly, a little tentatively. He's right...I told him I wasn't in the mood for sex the last two nights. Not that we have sex every night, mind you, but we do most nights. Or days. Whatever. So I get why he's hesitant and I don't want him to be.

I press my body in tight, my signal to him that I want more than just a kiss.

He doesn't hesitate further. Within moments, our clothes are gone and he's got me on top of the dining room table, pushing my phone down toward the other end so we don't knock it off. He's hot and hard, lodged deep inside of me. He rocks slowly against me, holding my arms pinned above my head while my legs are clamped tight against his ribs. Beck kisses me leisurely while he fucks me, but soon, as with most times we are wrapped up with each other like this, his moves become more forceful.

His thrusts a bit deeper.

When he can't concentrate on the kiss anymore because I know he wants to concentrate on getting us off, he pulls his mouth from mine, releases his hold on my arms, and puts one palm on the table for leverage. He pushes up slightly and then he's able to really let me have it.

The condo is filled with the sound of the table creaking as we fuck and our heavy pants, and I get closer and closer to the finish line.

So close, almost there.

Then my phone rings.

Beck doesn't even stop pounding inside of me, but does look above my head at my phone. "It's a 408 area code," he grunts at me.

"That's Detective Remmers," I manage to gasp out as his cock consumes me. "Should we answer it?"

"No," he groans as he slides in deep. "Let him leave a voice mail. More important things right this minute."

My phone rings three more times but then Beck's hand is in between my legs, rubbing my clit while he fucks me and I don't hear the phone anymore.

"Beck," I cry out as I start to come, my back arching off the table.

"That's my girl," he mutters, and then he starts jerking inside of me with a long groan.

He immediately rolls us to our sides, legs still intertwined and his dick still wedged deep inside me. With his long reach, he grabs my phone and hands it to me.

We're both still breathing heavy and layered in sweat, but I manage to access my voice mail, put it on speakerphone, and we listen.

"Sela...Detective Remmers. I pulled your file, and just wanted you to know, everything was done properly. It was submitted to CODIS and we have a receipt for it. I couldn't find it at first, but it was mislabeled. So yes...the DNA we collected is in CODIS, and if the man that raped you gets put into the system in the future, we'll get a match. It was great hearing your voice today. Stay strong and call me if you need me again."

My eyes snap to Beck's, who looks just as perplexed as I feel.

"JT didn't rape Caroline," I murmur, as the implication of what I just learned sinks in. JT's DNA from my rape is in the database. It should have triggered a hit with Caroline's case but it didn't.

"He was saying that just to torture you," Beck says. "But thank fuck...thank fuck we didn't say anything yet to Caroline."

Yes...thank fuck. We would have destroyed her for no reason whatsoever.

The relief I felt over finding out that JT didn't rape Caroline only lasted for a bit. Sela and I dragged ourselves off the dining room table and spent the rest of the day in bed, both of us buoyed by that news.

But now, as I sit back in the same courtroom and listen to the proceedings around me, my stomach gets knotted back up with anxiety again. Periodically, I'll look behind me to see Sela and Caroline there, giving me looks of encouragement. I dared to glance only once at Candace and Colin Townsend, who thankfully weren't glaring at me but were talking quietly with ADA Hammond as she leaned over the gallery wall before court started. Still haven't heard a word from my parents, and that neither surprises me nor makes me feel bad. They're a nonissue in my life.

Doug had said the preliminary hearing could take anywhere from half an hour to several hours, depending on how good their evidence was. If they were building a circumstantial case, it would take longer so they could lay it all out. It was up to the judge to listen to it and determine if there was probable cause to move forward. As Doug explained, it was a low threshold for the district attorney to overcome, the standard being if the facts presented would cause a person to have an honest and strong suspicion that a person is guilty of the crime.

This doesn't bode well for me, because all of the financial motives they think are driving me are enough for most people to have a strong suspicion that I did it.

Currently, an evidence tech is on the stand while ADA Hammond leads her through a series of questions about what was found at the crime scene. I watched as they identified color photos of JT's body and bags of hairs and fibers. Doug had told me that it could take weeks for that to all get analyzed forensically, but that doesn't hold up the criminal justice process.

After the tech comes the medical examiner, but his testimony is short and sweet, and nothing surprising. JT died of massive blood loss due to a single stab wound to his carotid artery. The other stab wound was inconsequential. Although a murder weapon had not been identified, they believe it was a letter opener that JT's housekeeper said he keeps on his desk but had never been recovered. The medical examiner opines that the wounds look to be caused from an instrument such as a letter opener.

Then we get to what I believe to be the meat and potatoes of their case. ADA Hammond calls Detective Amber Denning to the stand. She leads her through some questions regarding investigative protocol, eventually leading her up to her interviews with me.

"And how many times did you interview Mr. North?" Hammond asks.

"Twice," Denning replies. "Once at his condo the evening we found Mr. Townsend's body, and then again last Wednesday when he came into the station voluntarily with his attorney."

"What was his demeanor during those interviews?" Hammond asks.

"He did not seem surprised when we arrived at his condo to advise him of Mr. Townsend's death," Denning says as she flips through her written reports she must have made after. "But he was cooperative and answered our questions. He was also cooperative during the second interview."

I'm glad she doesn't mention the fact I got pissy with her at the end, but I expect that's because she's a professional and wouldn't stoop. Probably irrelevant anyway.

"And in the course of those interviews, did you learn anything that would lead you to focus in on Mr. North as a suspect with a sound motive for murdering the victim?" Hammond asks smoothly.

Denning nods. "Two things stood out. Mr. North had tried to buy

Mr. Townsend out of their business on a few occasions and Mr. Townsend would not sell out. He seemed to be battling issues with drugs and gambling, but those weren't factors that could cause Mr. North to terminate their agreement and force Mr. Townsend out. We were able to gather all of the financial records of Townsend-North, and the estimated worth of the company was right at three hundred and seventeen million dollars."

Hammond makes a low whistle sound, like she's astounded to hear that amount, when everyone in this courtroom knows damn well it wasn't news to her. "And what was the other thing that stood out?"

"We discovered that Mr. North and Mr. Townsend were actually half brothers, both sharing Beckett North, Sr., as a father. We learned that Mr. Townsend was going to get half of Mr. North's inheritance."

I can't help it. I look over my shoulder at Colin Townsend, and I can tell by the look on his face that this is not news to him. Either he's always known or the ADA told him so he could be prepared to hear those things in court, but he sits ramrod straight on the wooden pew-type bench and listens with rapt attention.

Then I turn even further in my seat to look at the other person that this will be shocking news to. Caroline stares right back at me, her eyes accusatory that I would keep something like this from her. I'm going to have to answer for that secret once we get this shit behind us. Hindsight is twenty-twenty and all that, but clearly, this is something I should have told Caroline a long time ago. Just never thought it would ever have any bearing on either of our lives, but it turns out it's a fact that could end up tearing all of us apart.

ADA Hammond asks a few more questions about her interviews with me, including my alibi. She also brings up the fact I suggested this was done by a disgruntled Vegas bookie who didn't get paid. Denning merely testified that they searched JT's house and office, including phone records and bank transactions, and simply could find no evidence other than the fact he'd been assaulted by unidentified assailants the day before his death.

"Detective Denning," Hammond asks bluntly. "Do you believe Mr. Townsend's death was related to this alleged gambling debt?"

"I do not," she says firmly. "We could find no evidence, and even Mr. North admitted to us that Mr. Townsend was given a few days to come up with the money. It made no sense for this alleged bookie not to honor the deadline, as he stood to get a lot of money."

---