“That was a good idea.” I could see Williams spilling everything including his bank account to the woman.
This makes my reporter spin away from the stack of mystery texts. “You know her?”
“I don’t know her, but I have seen her and her husband out. He’s a bouncer at the Tipsy Cow.”
“Yeah.” She narrows her eyes. “What else do you know?”
“That bouncing isn’t all that he did.”
“Oh.” She leans toward me. “Tell me more.”
“Brigger Douglas, age forty—”
“Stop.” She claps her hands over her ears. “I can’t hear you.”
I shut up. Cautiously she drops her hands away. A wry expression whisks across her face. “I know I said I wanted to know more, but Amethyst is a friend, and she has the right to reveal her stuff to me. I don’t want to take that away from her. I’m not that kind of reporter.” She sighs. “I guess that’s why I struggle for stories. I don’t want to write things that would embarrass people just for the sake of creating headlines. That’s dumb of me, isn’t it?” She gives me another look—one I can’t read precisely—and then resumes her inspection.
“I think you mispronounced admirable.” And sexy.
“Admirable? Because I won’t write embarrassing stories? I don’t think so. And you should know I plan on writing about you.”
“Fair.”
“What?” Her head jerks up. “I thought you were hiding out? The internet says you killed someone and ran away.”
“Is that the current rumor? I thought it was that I’d knocked up a supermodel and was trying to evade a paternity test.”
“That was there, too. So which one is it?”
“I do know how to plan a good murder.” I side-step her question. It’s not that I’m hiding things from her, but rather if I give all the answers now, she’ll have no reason to return.
Her gaze flits from my face to the floor as if there’s evidence of my serial killer tendencies to be discovered on the wooden treads. Or perhaps she’s envisioning a basement full of bodies. I clear my throat. “No bodies should be kept at home. It’s too easy to be discovered.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“The door is open.” I wave to the entrance where the steel door is fully ajar. Outside, the porch light is beginning to attract an army of insects.
“What is the best way to murder someone?”
“There’s no best method of murder. It’s what you do after the murder that is important, which is body disposal. No body. No conviction.” I push to my feet and walk over to the door. “Of secondary importance is what you do prior to the murder.” I shut the door and turn to lean on it.
She swallows and slides a hand over her purse. Does she have a gun in there? She doesn’t seem to be the kind to carry a weapon around. “And what is that?”
“It’s not one thing but a series of things. Establish an alibi.” I start toward her. “Make sure that no one will be looking for your victim for a period of time.” She backs up against the table. “Get the victim somewhere isolated.”
“My mother knows I’m here.” Her grip tightens.
“Kill any witnesses.”
“You can’t kill my mother!” she cries.
“It’s just fiction.” I stop in front of her and tip her chin up. “But this is real.” I slide my mouth over hers and wait.
Chapter Eight
Glory
He presses his mouth against mine but makes no move to deepen the kiss. Is he waiting for me to give him the green light? I’m guessing that’s not something a serial killer would do. I part my lips, inviting him in. That’s all it takes, and he’s deepening the kiss.
His tongue dips into my mouth as his hands come up to caress my face. He tilts my head back so he can deepen the kiss even more. One of his hands tangles in my hair as he takes what he wants. I moan into his mouth, my tongue tangling with his. He gives my hair tie a pull, freeing my hair.
“You taste so sweet,” he says when he breaks his mouth from mine. “I bet you taste sweet everywhere.” His mouth goes for my neck. He begins to trail open-mouth kisses down it. I dig my fingers into his shirt, needing something to hold on to as he continues to torture me with his kisses. I had no idea it would feel so good for someone to kiss your neck. My eyes fall closed, still not believing that I’m making out with Corby O’Neal. I barely know the man, but I know that I like what he’s doing to me.
I’m broken from my trance when suddenly he grabs me and picks me off my feet. My legs naturally wrap themselves around him as he walks us over to a chair. He sits down with me in his lap. His mouth comes back to mine again, and I get lost in his kisses. His hands slip up the back of my sweater. He trails his fingers up and down my back so gently that goosebumps appear. My body enjoys each and every stroke.