His Brother's Bride

HE’D NEVER KNOWN TORTURE could be so sweet. All day as they’d driven across the state, and now again, encased in the close confines of the Blazer with Laurel, her lilac scent filling the air, Scott could have been in heaven.

If he hadn’t already earned his entrance to hell.

Hour after hour he’d talked to her, listened to her laugh at the jokes he told, heard about some of the more heart-wrenching stories she’d covered. Hour after hour he’d imagined what it would have been like if he’d been the one she’d fallen in love with all those years ago.

It was a dangerous road to travel.

As an officer of the law, Scott knew better than to court danger. He had enough of it come his way all by itself.

“I’d like to head back toward Worcester,” Scott said, “so we can meet with Arnett’s parole officer first thing in the morning.”

He held his breath, waiting for Laurel to agree. Hoping that she would—and that she wouldn’t.

She did.

It was hard to believe, as they arrived back in Worcester, that they’d been there only that morning. Even for Scott, it had been one hell of a long day. He got them a couple of rooms in a well-known roadside motel. Generic, but nice enough to have thick towels and a basket full of free toiletries in the bathroom. Most important, it was clean.

“You hungry?” Laurel asked as they stood outside the doors to their adjoining rooms. They’d had a late lunch, but that had been hours ago.

“A little,” Scott said. He’d been thinking of room service.

“You want to order a pizza and watch a movie?”

If it hadn’t been for the flash of vulnerability he’d seen in her eyes, he’d have said no immediately. He’d already told himself—unequivocally—that he was going to leave her at her door and not see or speak to her again until he picked her up in the morning.

“Sure.” He cursed himself for the fool he knew himself to be.

He wasn’t made of iron.

* * *

SHE STILL PICKED the cheese off her pizza, eating it first, and saving the crust until last. It had always driven him crazy.

So did the way she licked her fingers, her tongue savoring every one, as though the appendage were part of the meal itself. He’d been ashamed more than once to find himself fantasizing about his tongue tasting her that way. And other ways as well...

“You think William’s dead?” she asked, frowning down at a piece of half-burnt pepperoni.

“No.” He wasn’t ready to believe that.

“You think William and Cecilia got to Leslie’s and then Dennis came and surprised them all?”

“Or maybe Leslie and Dennis surprised them. Let’s not forget, the Renwicks are Hamilton’s biggest client. As Cecilia’s brother, it’s not completely impossible that Dennis would have known Leslie. Maybe she fell in love with him, which he could have used to his advantage. They might be working together.”

“Do you really think that would have happened? That Cecilia would have let her brother be around her own daughter?”

“No.”

“Me, neither.”

“I’m not ready to rule out the possibility that Dennis knows Leslie now, however,” he said, pushing the box of pizza away. He’d had enough. “Or that someone is willing to do something life threatening to get their hands on the money Cecilia transferred.”

“William’s been gone five days without even so much as calling Twin Oaks to say he’s been delayed. Foul play’s a strong possibility.”

Scott was pretty much certain that Byrd was not missing of his own accord. “I’m not giving up hope that we’ll find him unharmed,” he said.

And he wasn’t.

But as each day passed, hope was waning.