Soul Deep Page 3

  I throw the empty beer box at him, the ass. I’m wracked with a total body shiver at the thought of a naked Tristan. I can just see him naked and proud the thought alone damn near makes me come.

  I thought my hope had slunk away, but it hasn’t. It’s flickering and I don’t know if I should fan that flame or let it die out.

  TRISTAN

  Walking into the conference room, I bark out, “Speak.”

  Everyone is silent and my patience is thin as fuck. It’s only been a couple days since Becca left the wedding and I’m pissed.

  At me.

  Everyone is looking at each other with a ‘what the fuck’ expression written all over their faces.

  I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms.

  “Right, here we go,” Carter pipes up, and I barely hold in my wince. “The Winterset case, the wife is devastated. Dropped off the photos and gave her a rundown of exactly how much an asshole her husband is.”

  “Next up, I’m calling the Foster case and putting Edwin Foster on the blacklist. His prenup is iron-fucking-clad. I’ve been tailing his wife for almost a month now, and I have never in my life tailed a more boring person. She literally does nothing but volunteer at the animal shelter, grocery shop, and read. Wears clothes five times too big for her and hasn’t stepped foot in a hair salon. The only way he gets out of the marriage without paying a fucking whack is if she steps a toe out of line, which isn’t happening, so I decided to tail him. He’s got a mistress who’s knocked up, days from popping. My guess is since the mistress is a fucking grade A piece of tail, he wants to drop little Miss Boring as Fuck. After that, I have a security consult at the Museum, and then I’m done for the day.”

  It’s ridiculous, but I can barely keep eye contact with him. Both Carter and Becca share the same eye color, and all I can see are her beautiful eyes filled with tears.

  Cash starts talking and I force my thoughts away from Becca.

  “I’ll be at the Lynn residence all day and most of tomorrow on the alarm install, going easy as pie.”

  Next up is Walker. “I have three high bond skips right now. I’m closing in on the two easiest ones, but the third is proving to be slippery. Every time I think I got a lock, the leads dry up.”

  “If you need to pull Miranda in, let me know.” Miranda Peterson is a computer whiz and a pain in the ass. She should’ve come with a warning label, ‘Does not play well with others.’

  He nods, and next up is Jackson. “Kari Pearson left home and dropped off the face of the fucking planet. According to the husband, they have a good marriage, been together for almost ten years, and then poof. No more wife. Police said no foul play and she’s an adult. After 48 hours, he filed a missing person’s report, and I haven’t found jack shit. Miranda called me late last night and said she thought she found something, but she needed more time.”

  With no more to say, I get up and walk to my office. Our new receptionist, Stacey, walks in and sets a stack of files on my desk.

  “These prospective cases all need to be looked over, and I need a yes or no. I’ll make the calls and schedule appointments or call and give them a referral. We also need to run payroll today and send out invoices.”

  Once again, I just nod my head and she leaves.

  I’m clicking around on the computer, going through emails, when Carter comes in and sits down.

  “What crawled up your ass and died?”

  “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Seriously, Tris, you’re usually a grump, but these last two days have been fucking brutal.”

  “I said not to fucking worry about it,” I snap.

  He doesn’t say a word; his face says it all. He’s fucking pissed. He stomps out of my office and I want to curse.

  After clicking out of my email, I pull up my weakness. Facebook nowadays, especially for an investigator, is a priceless tool. I say weakness because the only reason I’ve been on lately is to see Becca.

  I pull up her profile, and still nothing. Two days and not a damn thing. Not any stupid cat videos, recipes, hairstyle pictures—nothing. I pull up her photos and click on my favorite, a selfie she took when she first bought her house. In order to get most of the house in the picture, the only thing you can see is her eyes and the top of her head. Her eyes are so fucking happy, you can see the fucking light pouring out of her. Those eyes fucking haunt me.

  My door opens and I quickly close out of the screen.

  “Tristan, you have a call on line one,” Stacey says, her voice grating on my already fucked nerves. She kicks ass at her job, but every time she speaks, I want to stab my eardrums with ice picks.

  “Use the intercom next time.”

  “I would if you didn’t always have it on ‘do not disturb.’

  She turns and walks out. Times like these, I wish Savannah was still here.

  Picking up the receiver, I try my best to temper my tone. “Tristan.”

  “What’s up, Chuck?”

  “What do you need, Savannah?” I snap.

  “Man, what’s your problem? Seriously?”

  “Savannah,” I growl at her.

  “Fine! I was calling because I’ve been trying to get a hold of Becca and she isn’t answering her phone. She left the wedding and I didn’t get a chance to tell her goodbye.”

  “Becca is Becca, so who knows? I have no a clue and I don’t care. She’s probably busy with all her fucking boyfriends.”

  There’s silence on the line.

  “Well, all-righty then, asshole.” She hangs up and I wince.

  I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams. I’d managed to put her to the back of my mind until I called her to fix Savannah’s hair. When I first met her, I knew. I took one look at her and would have offered my foolish heart up to her on a god damn silver platter if I hadn’t been standing there with my fucking wife. My whole life, I got to watch my parents who had that connection that romance authors write about and readers soak up like gospel. That was all I ever wanted, a soul deep, lifetime commitment.

  At twenty-six, I’d gotten out of the military and was looking to start a company that I could use my skills at and make a whack, and not get shot at on a daily basis. I’d given up, or lost sight of the dream of finding a true love connection when I met Tess. She was beautiful, good in bed, and easy to live with. She wanted a ring and I was tired of looking. Worst mistake of my life.

  A pit viper would have been cuddlier.

  Then Becca came to Carter’s house one night, and every ounce of oxygen was sucked out of my lungs. There was something in my gut that told me it was her, the woman I’d been looking for.

  I will never forget when Carter introduced us. The way her lips formed my name and the way her eyes softened, her entire body seemed to melt. She felt the same connection I did. Then Tess had to ruin everything and open her mouth, introducing herself as my wife, and told Becca where the food was.

  All the softness was gone, and in its place was something even better. A fire lit in her eyes. When she opened her mouth and spoke, I fell in love.

  “Listen here, you rat faced hoe bag. Take your high and mighty attitude somewhere else.”

  In typical Tess fashion, she rolled her eyes; her favorite gesture when she was flustered.

  “Keep rolling your eyes, sweetheart. Maybe you’ll find a brain.”

  Everyone cracked up laughing, and Tess was shocked stupid.

  Bec made a come at me gesture and said, “Come on, shock me. Say something intelligent.”

  Tess threw me a nasty look and walked off in a huff. I was too busy wiping tears of laughter to notice her walking off.

  Dead serious, Becca said, “It’s a shame there isn’t a vaccine for stupidity.”

  My dad always told me when I met the one, it would be like a punch to the gut. It was that and more.

  I had more or less controlled myself since meeting her, but my control was tested after the Savannah pink hair debacle. It was fucking shredded when she answered the door i
n nothing but her sexy fucking panties and bra.

  The phone rings again and I hit the button to turn off the do not disturb function on the intercom.

  I hear Stacey’s voice come over the line. “Line one, Tristan.”

  I gather my thoughts and try to focus back on work while I listen to the asshole, Mr. Foster, bitch and complain, and then attempt to pay me to plant something incriminating on his wife, or make up some bullshit story about her having an affair. I click back onto the internet and bring up Becca’s smiling face.

  I lean back in my chair, confused, pissed, and frustrated. My heart tells me to lock that shit down, put a ring on it and live in wedded bliss, which is the exact opposite of my head. One thing is for sure: I have to decide one way or the other, and soon.

  BECCA

  I squeal and jump. I’m freaked right the fuck out. Jace is laughing his ass off.

  “It’s legal for recreational use now, Rebecca Jane.”

  “I’ve never smoked pot,” I whisper, even though we’re in Jace’s house. “And where did you get a pipe!” I screech.

  He’s literally holding his stomach, he’s laughing so hard. “The smoke shop. Same place I got the pot.”

  I’m pacing the living room like a crazy person.

  “Explain to me what you’re doing.”

  “I’m packing the bowl.”

  “I need sunglasses.”

  “Why.”

  “Just in case my mom storms the house. I don’t want her to see my eyes.”

  He busts up yet again.

  “Sit down, girlie.” I sit down so fast, I get rug burn on my ass.

  “Okay, I’ll hold it, and when I tell you to suck, hold it in as long as you can, then blow it out and prepare to be blown the fuck away.”

  I’m such a wreck, I think I might puke.

  Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and blow it out, and then hear the snick of the lighter. “Suck, dollface.”

  When I suck in, my virgin lungs immediately protest. They’re on fire.

  When I finally get my breath back, I burst into laughter. I’m already feeling light and airy.

  “I feel like air-popped popcorn.”

  I watch in awe as Jace blows out a much bigger cloud than mine before handing me the pipe. “Time to move into the minor leagues.”

  Handing me the lighter, I light it as he positions my hand. “Now suck.”

  I inhale, and it takes everything I got in me not to burst out laughing.

  I hold it for a few seconds then blow it out, and again burst into laughter.

  “Are you going to laugh every time?”

  “You need your hairs cut.”

  “My hairs?”

  “You have more than one hair on your head. You need all the hairs on your head cut, hence, “You need your hairs cut.” You see?”

  “What’s that noise?” Jace asks after blowing out another plume of smoke.

  “It’s music.” I listen for a minute and jump up, trying out the twerking skills that Jace has been trying to teach me. “It’s “Big Booty Hoe, Hoochie Mama!” This song’s the shit.” I feel for a split second that maybe I’m twerking. I mean, there is movement in my rear end. Jace laughs hysterically.

  “Oh my God, girl, please stop. You just gave hopeless a whole other level.”

  “Shut your pie-hole. This is award-winning booty bouncing gold right here.” I bend over and bounce. Maybe I’m imagining it, but there’s a definite jump in the trunk.

  The music stops and I’m ir-i-tated.

  “Noooooo.”

  It starts again, and so do I.

  “I think someone’s calling you,” Jace snorts.

  “Damn you’re right, that’s Savannah’s ringtone.”

  I snatch the phone from the table. “The effervescent, big booty bouncing Becca at your service, biatch.”

  Savannah giggles. “Are you drunk?”

  “Did you know that Marijuana is legal?”

  More laughter. “Yes.”

  “I might be a teensy bit stoned.”

  Cue the crickets, and then a literal explosion of giggles.

  “To what do I owe this pleasant phone call with the woman who hooked the sexiest Irish-American man this side of the Atlantic?”

  “Tristan.”

  “The panty dropping, inducer of spontaneous orgasms, breaker of my heart? That Tristan?”

  “Yup, that would be the one.”

  “I want to push his babies out of my vagina.”

  “Imma thinkin’ he wants that too. Cash poked around his computer tonight and called me. Apparently, he left your Facebook page up.”

  “I’m not friends with him on Facebook.”

  “This is weird, but his Facebook “name” is John Carter?”

  “Shit-balling fucker ducks.”

  “I talked to him tonight, and he is pissy, with a capital P.”

  “I don’t see why he’s so pissy. I didn’t laugh in his face and tell him no woman would ever want him.”

  The phone is jerked out of my hand and Jace gets on the line.

  “Hi, this is Jace. I’m Becca’s certified BFF, and yes, she actually printed off BFF certificates. So, it’s like, all official and shit. It took a ton of nagging to jerk it out of her and I don’t think he meant to say that. She said he told her he wasn’t done, that what he said came out wrong.”

  I jerk the phone back. “If that turd eater wants round two, his ass is going to have to work for it.”

  Savannah bursts out laughing, “Anyway, I hadn’t heard from you since the wedding so I thought I would call and check in.”

  “I’m doing A-OK, mending my shattered heart, making friends and smoking pot.”

  “Call me if you need to, okay? I worked with the man for years, I know him almost as well as I know my own brother.”

  “Thanks, Savannah.”

  “Anytime, darling.”

  Jace turns on the movie The Heat with Sandra Bullock and Melissa McCarthy, and I laugh so hard I almost puke. Best night ever.

  BECCA

  Today is going to kick ass. I haven’t done jack squat in the last couple days and I only have one more day before I need to head back home. I’m riding with Jace today as he patrols the private fishing lakes for Red Feather Lakes HOA. He warned me it’s going to be boring as hell, but I don’t care.

  I’ve read so many books in the last couple days, my eyes are no longer focusing, and honestly, I’m going to burn my vibrator out at this rate. I’ve read some super sexy romance novels, and last night, old reliable—otherwise known has my trusty rabbit vibrator—made a horrid noise at the end.

  My mom called last night to break up the monotony and add to my frustrations. She’s still trying to coax out the reason I came up here, and no way am I telling her. She’ll have Carter on the phone within seconds, forcing him to spill the beans, and that will cause problems between two men who are as close as brothers.

  She threatened to call Carter anyway and tell him something happened, but I told her that I wasn’t going to come down to Florida for Christmas if she did.

  Coming up here was the best decision I could’ve made. I haven’t felt this relaxed for as long as I can remember. A big part of that is Jace; I haven’t ever had a BFF. Friends, yes, but they’ve been more of acquaintances really. But a best friend? Someone you can pour your heart out to, lay around in ratty sweats and ball like a baby during the Notebook? Never, not once, until Jace. He’s the most positive person I’ve ever met, and he’s cheering for me to hook up with Tristan.

  I’m on the fence about this. Sure, I sit here and tell myself that I’m over him, that I can move on, date, find a husband, poop out some kids and build my dream, complete with the picket fence and a French bulldog named Fran, but deep down, I know that I’m just lying to myself.

  I’ve spent years burrowing into myself, feeling like I wasn’t good enough. Well F that, I’m awesome. Up here, I’ve begun to take an interest in myself again. I’m walking every day, and
even unearthed my mom’s old VHS tapes of Buns of Steel, cutting back on the cupcakes, and now my pants have wiggle room.

  I’m not doing it for anyone else but me. Not feeling winded when I walk around town, not being cut in half by my pants is also a bonus. This is about me feeling good about me.

  Jace jumps in the truck and interrupts the direction of my thoughts, and I give him a big, toothy grin.

  “I’m ready, Kemosabe. Show me the way of your people.”

  He just shakes his head. “Okay. So, if I get out to check badges and stuff, I need you to stay in the truck. Occasionally, if the person’s fishing and they shouldn’t be, and I tell them to move their asses along, they get testy. Hasn’t ever come to blows, but just in case, I need you to stay in the truck.”

  I give him a salute and off we go.

  This area is so freaking gorgeous. It’s in a valley of sorts, and little lakes are peppered all over the place. Some are harder to get to than others, but all of them are stunning.

  My head’s bobbing to the music and I hear Jace suck in a breath.

  “What?”

  “This is Lettica Lake, and holy shit…”

  I follow where his eyes are and see Bo, in waders, trudging up the shore. “Holy grail, it’s the messiah of beautiful men, and for some strange reason, the waders are really doing it for me right now,” I tell him, when I notice Bo is waving us over. “Jace, I think he wants to talk to you.”

  “O-Okay,” Jace whimpers.

  “Pull yourself together, man!” I whisper-yell at him. He jerks open the door and makes his way over to Bo. I desperately want to be nosey and follow, but I keep my toosh in the car.

  Bo says something and then holds out his hand and Jace looks frozen for a minute then he puts his hand out and shakes Bo’s hand. I giggle because Jace is most likely on a scale of one to ten on the twitterpated meter most likely breaking the needle at like a hundred. They both start walking back to Bo’s truck and I catch a glimpse of them walking side by side and shit, they look really cute together.

  Jace nods his head and waves goodbye. When he slides into the truck and begins to drive off, I scream, “What did he want?”