Willow removed her glasses and pushed herself back from the desk she’d been issued on a floor that had been repurposed for her division. She glanced up at the glass wall across from her to see her people moving around. Usually the sight of them going about their business bringing in and setting up equipment would have made her feel like the puzzle pieces of her life were falling together. Joey with his shock of red hair and matching beard walked by carrying the spectrometer she would use later. He peeked inside and gave a sharp nod as he moved on and Ashley, or “Buddha” as everyone called her, with her ash blonde hair and her colorful eye shadow was no more than a step behind him, carrying some other piece of equipment. She didn’t peek in or nod. Her gaze was trained on the overweight man’s shoulders as he continued into the lab.
Beth came back into the office huffing and puffing with Matisse bringing up the front, almost dragging her across the floor. Willow tried to get up, but the pain that shot through her ribs made her rethink the move. No sooner had Beth opened the door than Matisse tore the leash from her hand and bounded into the room. He rushed around the desk and she leaned over, presenting her face to him. He snuffled her face and hair before he kissed her.
“It’s okay, my prince. I’m here. I’m okay. See?” She reached in her drawer to find the snacks that Beth had stuffed inside.
“You remembered,” Willow said, tipping a smile at Beth. Beth flopped down in the chair and draped her leg over the side.
“He finished one bag on the flight here and half of that one last night. I thought about taking him to that kennel we talked about, but he looked so pitiful. He just lay there behind the desk on his mat.”
Willow pressed her face into the thick fur on the back of the dog’s neck and listened to him pant and snuffle at her clothes.
“You got the soot and grime out of his coat. Thanks.”
“No prob. I just don’t understand why it was all over his back. He never displays his belly to anybody but you. The dirt on his back wouldn’t have anything to do with Peace Pipe, would it?”
Willow looked up at her. “Who?”
Beth folded her arms and smirked. “You know who—that tall dark walking piece of lust that was in here earlier. Matisse hates all men that come within a foot of you. He damn near took Eddie’s hand off when he tried to hand you that report last week. You know they say dogs know an alpha male when they see one. They’ll only acquiesce to another by showing their belly.”
Willow patted the dog on his shoulder, and he hopped down and settled down near her legs. She wondered if Davis had even picked up on the fact that after his initial reaction to his intrusion, the dog had rolled over on his back before he returned to his duty.
Then again, Davis hadn’t been looking at anything or anyone but her. Even earlier, as he’d stood there close enough to press his nose into her hair, warming the skin just below her ear as he spoke, there had been no one else in the room. She was all he saw or cared to see.
She looked up to find Beth smiling at her. “Well, it’s about damn time.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about and why are you calling that man ‘Peace Pipe’? His name is Davis—or at least I think it is.”
“Damn, his powers of persuasion are that thick that you don’t even know his name?”
“No... yes...I mean...”
“Well, as I live and breathe, he must be something to make you stammer.”
“Beth, please.”
“All right. The girls took to calling him that after he left because ‘Captain Fuck Stick’ didn’t sound very ladylike.”
Willow’s mouth fell open.
“Well, you asked. Buddha started it. She said one hit off his pipe was probably better than crack. I had to agree. One look at you this morning and the way he stepped to you... I don’t know what he said before he gave you that cup, but we all got wet. The way he was standing there next to you... If there was a desk, we all would have been watching a porno over breakfast. Yeah, Peace Pipe...”
“Davis just dropped me off.” The words felt sticky in her mouth as she ran her tongue over her bottom lip.
“Looked like he wanted to carry you back outta here. Something to be said for a little mid-morning nookie. Anyhow, while you were lost in Yonkers—or what is this place called again?”
“Shadow Bay,” Willow managed as her mind drifted back to being in Davis’s arms with his sweat drying on her skin.
Beth was still talking but Willow couldn’t hear her anymore. All she could imagine were her ragged breaths and his moans and the rustle of fabric as she felt the rasp of his calloused hand moving against her bare bottom. If she had to be honest with herself, the thought his fingers scissoring over her swollen clit and the rhythmic friction of his fingers over her core. Willow felt the flutter and the rush of her orgasm flowing through her as the warm gush of fluid covered his fingers.
Even the way he sat there on the side of his bed apologizing and practically offering her his freedom. The longer she sat there behind her desk, the desire grew. All she wanted to do was claw at his ass until he thrust himself deep in her up to the hilt.
And then there was the way he’d held her. He wasn’t trying to figure out how to hold her the way a new lover would. This man knew her body, every nuance, every line, and curve. She crossed her legs and turned in her seat. Matisse lifted his head and sniffed the air then settled down on his paws once more.
She thought of herself on her hands and knees in front of Davis as he snatched her back against his thrusts by grabbing a handful of the back of her shirt. She could almost see the sweat dripping down his tight abs as he slammed into her repeatedly. The wet sucking sound of their sweat gluing their bodies together made her pull her bottom lip into the shelf of her mouth.
And then it dawned on her.
Harlem.
In the midst of it all, she had called his name, and it sent a shaft of guilt careening through her spirit. Had she spoken his name? She knew she had. She must have because Davis’s touch had changed. He’d asked about the name the way a man would if he wanted to know his competition. He was gentle, but he was probing. How much did this person still mean to her that she was calling his name while in another man’s bed?
“The arsons are related.”
“Have you been listening to a word I’ve been saying?”
Willow flinched and looked up at Beth who was grinning at her.
“No wonder you were walking so slow—he put his back into it, didn’t he?”
“Beth, stop it, I’m serious. I looked at the samples. Kerosene has a distinct smell even after it burns, and the type used is not manufactured around here. There was another smell over it—like flowers. Like maybe someone used it as an aroma therapy sort of thing.” She was glad her voice sounded normal and even happier to be speaking and thinking about something other than Davis’s fingers and the taste of his sweat.
“That’s what I’ve been saying before you floated off to Fuckville... Sorry. I’ll stop. You pegged the scent weeks ago back at the first fire. Specs came back as a jasmine and sandalwood blend. Smells like cough syrup to me but you were right. Right down to the one that happened last night. Maybe the perp was trying to make it look like an accident. You know, with those oil diffusers with the sticks. People set that stuff out because it looks pretty, unaware that all it would take is a propane torch or some asshole with a magnifying glass or, worse, a laser sight.”
“He lost a friend in that fire,” she said quietly.
“He one of those lookie loos. You think he might have had something to do with this?”
She thought back to him standing in a pool of what the firemen called fire gravy—a mixture of soot and water.
“No. The grief I saw on that man’s face was genuine.”
“Anybody else look outta place there? Maybe there was somebody in the crowd with his dick in his hands? You know some of those arsonists get off on stuff like that: the smell of the bodies and the way the flames dance.”
Willow could feel her mood darken as she sifted back to the real reason she was there. In truth, she hadn’t had time to walk the perimeter and blend in. It would have been impossible to pass for a spectator dressed in her gown.
She thought of the gown again and shook her head. The ring was mixed in there between her jumpsuit and the gown and all of a sudden, she wanted both in front of her. She wanted that velvet box so that she could hand it back to Kyle. All of a sudden, the idea of Davis finding the ring made a strange pain spread in her chest.