Page 7 of Tangled
“So if I wanted to finish my drink and walk out, you’d be fine with that?” Her gaze dropped back to his eyes, but her fingers now brushed his shoulders.
“I’d regret the missed opportunity, but I wouldn’t stop you,” he replied. “Even though I don’t think that’s what you want to do,” he added. Her breathing had grown shallow, and even through her sweater, he could see her pert nipples all but begging to be touched, to be tasted. The thought had his body straining against the denim even more.
He shifted to relieve some of the pressure, and she licked her lips again as a shadow of anticipation danced across her features. Then, leaning over, she ran her hands down his chest, her breasts centimeters from his face.
“Here,” she said, slipping the button open on his jeans. “Let me help you with that.”
***
Brad didn’t need to open his eyes to know he was alone. It came as no surprise that his Magi had sneaked out. Still, he kicked himself for not waking up. But after thirty-six hours of no sleep—and several rounds of sex that shouldn’t have been as good as they were considering his fatigue and the fact that they’d met only hours before—he’d slept like the dead.
Cracking an eye open, he looked toward the window. Bright sunlight fought to make its way through the small gaps in the curtain, telling him that morning had come and gone. Rolling his head, he caught sight of the clock and confirmed his suspicion. Ten minutes after twelve. At least he’d had the foresight to ask for a late check-out. Which meant he had fifty minutes to get his shit together—mentally and physically—before he got on the road.
Closing his eyes again, he allowed regret to sink its claws in. Not for the night he’d had, but for not pressing harder for her name. Or any information that would let him identify her. Sure, he could ask his cousins to pull the CCTV from Roxy’s and run facial recognition on her. But she hadn’t wanted him to know who she was, and as much as he hated it, he had to respect it.
In hindsight, he should have slid his card into the pocket of her jeans the night before. Or given her some way to contact him. At least then he could hope.
He hadn’t, though, and now, even if she wanted to find him, she couldn’t. Not unless she had the same resources he had, which he doubted.
He took a deep breath and exhaled as he ran his hand over his face. Knowing that the night would be one he’d never forget, a wave of melancholy stole over him. Physically, it hadbeen more than memorable—she’d been both generous and demanding, and he’d loved every moment. But it had been more than that. When she looked into his eyes as he slid inside her, or when she cried out with pleasure, he’d had flashes of a future with her. Of what it could be like. Like memories of things that hadn’t yet happened. A vision of her in his kitchen, smiling and laughing as she passed by him, dropping a kiss on his shoulder. A glimpse of the two of them on his couch, her head in his lap, his fingers in her hair, as they watched a winter storm roll in. And the strongest image of them all had been one of them at Christmas, of her laughing at something his dad said as she set a plate on an elaborately decorated table.
He had no idea why those pictures had flashed into his head last night, like premonitions of things that would never happen. Maybe he was going crazy. Or his jet lag and the residual effects of the sleeping pill were messing with his mind. Or more likely, the shock of having witnessed a murder was finally settling in.
That thought had the squirrels in his mind slowing. He’d witnessed a murder last night. He hadn’t seen the man who’d pulled the trigger, but he’d seen the man who’d been killed. Three of them were in the room; with one dead, the murderer could only be one of the other two. Both of whom he could describe.
He wanted to know what had happened after the police arrived, and he needed to give his name as a witness in case it was needed. Reaching for the phone, he started to look up the non-emergency number for the local precinct, then hesitated. Magi’s comments about the murder going unreported bubbled up in his mind. Was she being dramatic, or could there have been some truth to them? And if there was some truth to them, was he better off not calling and giving them his name?
He suspected the answer to that latter question was “yes,” so instead of looking up the number, he typed in the name of the bar, the date, and the word “shooting” into the search engine.
Less than ten seconds later, the page populated. But as he read through the headlines, not a single one mentioned the events of last night. In fact, the only articles that appeared were from four years ago when a woman had walked into Roxy’s and shot her philandering husband while he’d been on a date.
Frowning, he tried another search string only to see the same results.
He’d seen the cop cars at the bar, or at least their lights reflecting off the building, so he knew they’d responded. Why had nothing been reported? Sure, LA was a big city, but a shooting at a popular bar wouldn’t go unreported.
On a whim, he dialed a familiar number.
“Hey, Charming. How was your flight?” his soon-to-be sister-in-law answered. She’d once called him Prince Charming, but Mitch, his brother and her fiancé, had put an end to that. Now she only used the full name when she wanted to get a rise out of his younger brother. Which happened quite often and was wicked fun to witness.
“Hey, Ava. Flight was fine. I’m going to leave in about an hour and will be home by dinner. But I was wondering if you could look something up for me. Discreetly.”
“Please tell me it’s a woman,” she begged. “If it’s a woman, it might distract your dad.”
Brad chuckled. About a month ago, Mitch had informed the entire family that he and Ava were a couple by announcing, via text, that she’d agreed to have a baseball team’s worth of kids with him. She hadn’t. Nor, to his knowledge, had they even started trying. But his dad, Anthony, was ever hopeful.
“Not a woman,” he replied, although he tucked that offer into the back of his mind in case he decided to track his Magi down.“Can you look up the police activity at Roxy’s bar last night? I went there for a burger and a drink after I checked in and when I left, there were a bunch of police cars. I looked online but couldn’t find anything reported. I guess I found that weird.”
Ava hmm’d, but he could hear her typing already. “It could be anything,” she said. “The cops get called out for all sorts of things that wouldn’t make it into the paper.”
He agreed. But a murder wasn’t usually one of those.
“Huh,” she said.
“Did you find something?”
“Yes and no. I found the call. Apparently, someone called in a potential shooting. That’s what the 911 records show.”
“But?”
