Sinful Desire

He huffed. “You’re too smart for your own good.”

“I’m just a good listener. So what do you think he knows? You don’t think he’s a suspect, do you?”

He laughed and shook his head, leaning his hip against the counter. “No. Absolutely not. But everyone has an agenda, and I think Ryan Sloan has his own, which for some reason involves protecting his mother.”

“But she’s in prison. How can he be protecting her?”

“I think he’s protecting things she won’t tell us. But the good news is he told me something that I think will be helpful, if I can just connect all the dots.”

“Can you?”

He shrugged. “That’s the million-dollar question. And you know I can’t say anymore. If I do I’ll compromise the investigation, and all investigations matter, but this one is a big one, Sophie.”

She had a sneaking suspicion John wasn’t merely looking into an eighteen-year-old murder. She had a feeling he was hunting for something that went much wider and bigger.

“And if you do? You can keep the streets safe?”

“That’s always my goal.” He nodded to the door. “I should go. Unless you want me to stay.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. Just tell me—is there anything about him that you think I need to know? Would I be a fool to see him again?”

He tucked his finger under her chin. “Sophie, I can’t make those sorts of promises or guarantees about anyone. Let alone someone I barely know. What I do know is this—he is focused, and intense, and his mother adores him, and he loved her, too.”

Was that such a bad thing? Was there some law that said you were supposed to become a hater if someone you loved killed? Sophie shuddered at the thought. Was the world that black and white? She had no clue how she would feel in Ryan’s shoes, which was why she didn’t want to judge him.

She said goodbye to John then headed to her closet and rearranged her favorite dresses and fancy shoes.

When she woke up the next morning, her phone bleated loudly—a reminder of her meeting in a few hours with Clyde. She groaned because the man would surely ask her about her date for the fundraiser, and she didn’t know if she had one still.

Or if she wanted one anymore.





Chapter Twenty-Four


Pool cue in hand, Ryan stared down the eight ball and the corner pocket. He tapped the ball lightly then followed its path as it rolled across the green felt, hell-bent on its destination and impending victory.

C’mon, he said silently.

The ball veered to the right, bumping the edge of the table, and missing the mark by an inch.

“Damn.” Ryan let out a long, frustrated sigh.

Brent pulled back on his stick and knocked the eight ball flawlessly.

“You’re killing it today,” Ryan said, extending a hand to congratulate his brother-in-law on his third win of the afternoon.

Brent shook then waved his hand as if Ryan’s utter demolishment in a game at which he usually excelled was no big deal. “Just lucky today, that’s all,” Brent said.

There was a time when Ryan hadn’t been a fan of Brent Nichols because the man had broken his sister’s heart long ago. But that was then, and as Ryan had gotten to know Brent anew these days, he’d let the past go. Brent made Shannon immensely happy, and he loved seeing his sister like this—glowing.

“Go again?” Ryan asked, holding up his cue.

“You’re a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?”

“Seems that way,” Ryan said. But he was determined to right this ship. He never lost three games in a row. Never ever. This was unprecedented, and he had to get his act together, because he didn’t like being so off his game.

He racked the balls as Shannon walked into the den, holding up beer bottles for the crew. “Are we ever going to eat lunch?” she asked as she doled out bottles to Brent and Ryan. She had one left for Colin, since he’d texted that he’d be there any minute, and she set it on the edge of the table. “Or are you boys going to play all afternoon?”

“I’ll stop when I break my streak,” Ryan said, as Johnny Cash barked happily from the other room. He must have spotted one of his favorite lady dogs walking along the sidewalk from his perch staring out the front window.

“Brent, please let him win. I’m hungry,” Shannon said to her husband, who simply laughed.

Ryan shot a sharp-eyed stare at Brent. “Play fair and square.”

“I’ll play.”

Ryan spun around to see his brother Colin walk in, with Johnny Cash trotting by his side. “What the hell? You don’t knock?”

“Yeah, some asshole who owns this house didn’t lock the front door. I was able to wander in and your guard dog greeted me with a big lick,” Colin said with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he petted the dog’s black furry head. Then he looked at Ryan. “You’d think a man who works in the security business would lock his door.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I know you used your key. Don’t even try to pretend that stuff would slip by me.”