"He knows our names. Our first names, anyway. Maybe we made him call us Master and Mistress, but I'm sure he overheard us talking to each other once in a while."
"He was stoned most of the time we were with him. He can try to describe us, but you've seen as many cop shows as I have. They can't find jackshit unless there's an accident or coincidence that makes some piece of evidence too obvious to miss. They work their shift and go home. They don't really care about the Rovers of the world. They only care about their next paycheck."
"Not all cops are like that."
"I'm telling you, they're idiots. How often have we heard the narrator on A&E say that if it wasn't for some piece of information--which happened to get overlooked but was in the file the whole damn time--such and such a killer would've gotten away?" He sucked the foam off his beer. "It's a miracle they catch anybody, Tiff. Even if they know you're guilty, they have to prove it beyond a reasonable doubt, and there's no proof to back up Rover's story." He scowled. "We wouldn't have hurt him if he hadn't refused to take off his pants. You know what happens to me when I get angry.
Sometimes I can't help myself."
She sank down on the couch beside him. "He spent a lot of time with us. Who knows how much we revealed? We weren't expecting him to get away."
"But even if he says something to make the police focus on us, they'll have to prove we're guilty."
"They could come here and search--and then they'd find Sam. I say we get rid of her."
"We will. But there's no hurry."
"How will you know when we should do it?"
"Because I'll be paying attention."
She nibbled on her swollen lip. "I wonder if he can give them the make and model of our car."
"Quit worrying."
"Maybe we should trade it in."
"And replace it how?" Their budget was too tight. He made a decent salary, but not nearly as much as the senior partners. And Tiffany earned a mere pittance. "Maybe if you had an education and were worth more than ten dollars an hour, that'd be an option, but you're practically worthless." He grabbed her chin so he could examine her injury. "Speaking of money, you're going to work tomorrow."
"But my lip hasn't quite healed."
"I don't care. It doesn't look so bad now, and you're out of sick days."
She didn't say anything. He knew she hated changing bedpans, but why should he be the only one to slave away day after day?
"Are your friends coming over on Friday?" she asked.
"Of course." The question annoyed him at first, but it also reminded him that there were better ways to spend an evening than sulking on the couch.
"Take this off," he said, tugging on her blouse.
Obediently, she lifted it over her head, revealing one of the lacy bras he'd picked out at the mall the last time they went. He always bought her bras one size too small so they forced her br**sts up and over the top.
"Nice." He ran a finger along the swell of her cle**age, over the tattoos of his name. Maybe tonight didn't have to be miserable after all. He could tie Tiffany to the bed--facedown--and pretend she was Zoe.
Chapter 15
Zoe was still shaking when she got into bed. What had just happened?
One minute she'd been thinking about Franky Bates, which never failed to leave a heavy, unyielding lump in her stomach; the next, Franky couldn't have been further from her mind. When Jonathan touched her so tenderly, she'd been consumed by a passion unlike anything she'd ever experienced before.
Was it simply the famous lure of "forbidden fruit"? What would she have done if he'd continued? If that hand that'd rested so lightly on her hip had slipped up to curve around her breast?
Stifling a groan, she pulled the covers over her head. She would've shoved him away, of course. And if there was any chance she wouldn't have done that, she didn't want to know about it. She felt bad enough that she'd enjoyed the sample.
Stop it. Her reaction didn't really mean anything. It was minor amidst a plethora of more critical concerns, like getting Sam home safely. Zoe wasn't herself, would never be herself again, until her daughter was safe.
"Forget it," she whispered, but try as she might, she couldn't forget.
She kept imagining the smooth muscle she'd felt when she touched his arm earlier, the warmth of his breath stirring the tendrils of hair at the nape of her neck, the tingling sensation that'd ripped through her when his lips moved across her skin--
Throwing back the covers, she sat up and grabbed her cell. She had to call Anton. She'd checked in with him periodically throughout the day, knew he would've called her if anything had changed, but she needed to talk to him again, if only to remind herself of their relationship. Since Sam's disappearance, she didn't feel connected to anyone. But that was no excuse.
She had to say no to more regret, no to another breakup, no to another move.
Stability. That was the goal. What her father had never been able to provide. Anton was a decent man, a steady man. She'd made the decision when she moved in with him that this was forever. She needed to remain committed.
The call-waiting feature on her cell phone beeped. She knew without glancing at caller ID that it was Skye. But she didn't switch over. She could call her in the morning. Right now, she needed to talk to Anton.
When her fiance finally answered, he sounded as tired as she felt.
"Sorry, I was on the other line with Detective Thomas," he said of his delay.
"Do you want to call me back?"
"No, it's okay. He's gone."
Zoe leaned against the headboard. "What'd he have to say?"
"Not much." He sighed loudly. "He's as baffled as we are. There've been a few leads trickling in, but none of them have panned out."
Far colder than she'd been a moment before, she burrowed beneath the blankets. "I can't go on like this," she said.
"Unfortunately, you don't have any choice, Zoe. No one ever asks for this kind of trouble. Sometimes it just...happens."
He sounded like her father, not her lover. Couldn't he be more intimate in his support? Couldn't he tell her he was there for her? That he'd always be there for her? That they'd get through this together?
Suddenly wishing she hadn't called, she hurried to get off the phone.
"II'm exhausted. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Where are you right now?"
"L.A." She winced at the lie but definitely didn't want to mention San Diego.
"I know that," he said. "Where are you staying?"