Dirty Wicked: A Wicked Lovers Novella Page 9

  “Now what?”

  Nick’s thoughts raced. They’d checked out of the motel. But if this contained what he thought it did, they couldn’t leave New Orleans without getting this fucking evidence to the FBI or the mayor—someone who could prosecute this wretched son of a bitch.

  “You drive.” He tossed her the keys and made his way around the vehicle. “This computer may have just enough battery life to read whatever Mike left us.”

  He tore the machine out of the box and booted it up as she left the parking lot. He skipped as much of the setup process as the operating system would allow, then shoved the flash drive into the port. One item popped up in the Finder window. When he clicked on it, the screen came to life.

  Chapter Five

  Sasha glanced from the road to the screen as it froze and a pop-up message about the operating system being out of date flashed, preventing Nick from playing the evidence.

  “Fuck. Pull over,” Nick commanded. “I’m not a typist and this is too hard to do in a moving car.”

  Sasha was cruising down the middle of three easterly lanes. “Anywhere in particular?”

  “There.” He pointed to the entrance of a parking lot to her right, leading to a Chipotle.

  She changed lanes and did what he’d asked. The lot was starting to fill up, and she knew better than to park in the middle of the crowd, so she coasted around back, between two empty cars that probably belonged to employees, and put the SUV in park.

  As she did, he turned on his hot spot and hooked it up to the computer. When the device prompted him to download more updates, he cursed and pressed the button to begin.

  Over his cell signal, the download moved slowly.

  “I wish we could play the video already,” she said desperately.

  “Yeah.” He spoke the word as if he understood exactly how she felt, as if he’d waited and hoped like hell vengeance was coming.

  Her impatience spiked. In moments, the mystery might be solved. The endless days and nights of misery might be over. Sadness that she’d lost Mike mixed with triumph that she and Nick could actually solve his murder. Mike would be so proud of her.

  But Nick might be her biggest surprise. Despite being Mike’s friend, she hadn’t known him well. Nick had moved to Lafayette before she and Mike had begun dating. He’d been burying his mother the weekend she and Mike married, so she hadn’t met him then, either. Their introduction after Harper’s birth had been brief and oddly tense. So when Nick had acted like a predatory jerk in the last thirty-six hours, Sasha had remembered Mike’s warnings and believed the worst.

  Now that Nick had explained why he’d distanced himself and she had spent time in the circle of his protection and caring, she gauged him not by his words but through his actions. He could have slammed the door in her face that midnight she’d come, begging for help. He could have told her that he’d just gotten out of prison and didn’t want any more problems with Walter Clifford. But he hadn’t. He’d risked life, limb, and freedom to give her and Harper a tomorrow.

  Equally telling, Nick was denying himself something he wanted badly—her. Apparently, he’d been doing it since the moment he set eyes on her. He could have taken advantage of her twenty times by now. After all, she’d agreed to be his mistress for a month, give him whatever kind of sexual payment he demanded. But, despite being without sex for over a year, he’d refused her body both times she’d offered it. Last night he’d bestowed dazzling pleasure on her without asking for anything in return. Instead, he had done his utmost to respect Mike’s friendship and memory. Even now, he tried to protect her, especially from himself. His self-sacrifice struck her as both noble and sexy. Sasha didn’t know everything he thought or felt, but deep down she knew he was a good man. No denying he aroused her body in ways she’d scarcely imagined.

  Yes, he could be gruff and foul-mouthed and blunt. But he was also smart and protective—and so much more than the dangerous criminal she’d believed him to be days ago.

  Circumstance. Situations. Inevitability. Fate. Whatever she called it, everything had led her to this moment with Nick. The day she’d buried Mike, she had felt as if she buried her heart with him. But here it was, fluttering in her chest with hope, respect, and desire—all for the man sitting beside her.

  Oh, goodness. She was falling in love.

  When had that happened?

  Finally, another pop-up announced the completion of the operating system’s update. He flipped back over to the video player and clicked the button. An image of Walter Clifford’s office filled the screen. A little grainy, and the audio quality wasn’t great. But Mike stood behind the desk, looking up nervously at the camera.

  Sasha gasped. It was hard to look at her late husband—his familiar movements and mannerisms. That face she’d know anywhere. The cowlick at the front of his pale hair. The remnants of the sunburn he’d gotten after washing their cars without putting on sunscreen the previous weekend.

  “I’ll be goddamned. Mike…buddy.” Nick sounded choked up.

  Sasha stifled tears and reached for his hand. “It’s him. Oh, my gracious. What is he doing?”

  “Inexpertly setting up a hidden camera in his boss’s office. Damn it, Mike. Why didn’t you ask me to wire that place for you?”

  “Maybe everything happened too fast?”

  “Probably. And because the one time I visited your house, he noticed I couldn’t stop staring at you.” Nick looked sheepish. “I’m so damn sorry I wasn’t there.”

  “Look at the date stamp.” She caught sight of it in the bottom right corner, a number that faded in, flashed a few times, then dwindled away. “Wasn’t that the day after you got arrested?”

  Nick squinted at the numbers, then nodded. “It fucking is. He must have known that installing surveillance in Clifford’s office was dangerous. I got out two days later.” After the police had magically forgotten to allow him a phone call, and the Santiagos had come looking for him. Money talked, and theirs had helped him make bail quickly. “I would have handled it.”

  By then, Mike’s fate had likely been sealed.

  Sasha wasn’t even sure what to feel. Angry? Regretful? In the end, she settled for somewhere between sad and resigned since she couldn’t change the past. She could only move on from here. She would always miss her sweet, salt-of-the-earth husband.

  But she was beginning to believe Nick Navarro might be her future.

  Suddenly, Mike jolted and shoved something into a drawer, then hastily shut it before darting around the desk and heading toward the camera—and the office door. His footsteps sounded loud. As he crept closer to the camera, it picked up a sheen of sweat on his face and the nervous shift in his eyes.

  “Damn it,” Nick murmured. “But this is my thing. He sucked at clandestine.”

  She couldn’t disagree. Had the honesty she’d treasured in Mike been one of the qualities that led to his demise?

  “Porter. What are you doing here?” said a faint voice belonging to someone out of the camera’s view. But Sasha knew exactly who it belonged to. She’d heard Walter Clifford speak too often not to recognize his gruff tones.

  “Looking for you. I wanted to give you an update on the Ector case.”

  “Later.” Clifford sounded dismissive. “I just came back from lunch, and I’m late for a conference call. See me at four.”

  “Of course.” Mike all but bowed and scraped as he headed for the door.

  Watching him leave the screen cramped Sasha’s stomach with a physical pain. He disappeared from the shot quickly, and it felt like losing him all over again. There would be no more of Mike’s movements or smiles or complaints on a Sunday morning that the most important political shows shouldn’t be airing when people should be in church. She wouldn’t see him rock his daughter, touch his smooth cheek, or hear him sing in the shower ever again.

  He was simply gone.

  “Shit,” Nick muttered beside her.

  Sasha refocused on the screen and watched Clifford shu
ffle into view. Balding, portly, pushing sixty, he looked far more like someone’s grouchy grandfather than a corrupt politician and criminal mastermind. The man scowled and searched the room, seemingly suspicious, before he shook his head, plopped down behind his desk, and yanked the receiver of his phone to his ear.

  Seconds later, he began hissing at whomever was on the other line. “Has Mike Porter been sneaking around your office?” After a pause, Clifford gripped the phone tighter. “Well, today is the third time I’ve found him snooping around mine. I don’t like it. I’m pretty sure he overheard us fixing the evidence in that criminal dumping case against that fucking oil driller. The moral stick up that church boy’s ass has become an antenna, and I haven’t been able to redirect him.” Again, another hesitation while the other party—probably a sheriff or police chief—spoke. “Fuck the money. We stand to lose our reputations and careers if Porter has evidence and he goes public.” Clifford swore. “Let me find out what he knows. If he’s onto us, I’ll make sure he can’t talk anymore.”

  Beside her, Nick stiffened. And he looked at the screen like he hated Walter Clifford almost more than he could contain, like he had to swallow it down to keep it from spewing out, like he had to breathe through it or he might explode. Sasha understood that. The same furious incredulity spread through her. How dare that man leave a woman without her husband, a child without her father, a friend without his buddy? But he’d talked about murder so casually, so thoughtlessly—as if he’d done it before.

  After another hesitation during which the cop must have mentioned another problem, the DA scowled. “Yeah? Keep that fucking P.I. Navarro in jail until we can figure out what he knows about my affairs. And for fuck’s sake, don’t tell the press who’s accused him of rape. They’ll start connecting the dots, and the whole thing will turn into a PR nightmare. My niece will crumble under the pressure. Fiona is a pretty girl…but not a bright one. We’ll get this fucker’s case rammed through fast. Find out who Navarro’s attorney is and put the screws to him. Make sure Judge Marburn presides when it gets to trial. He owes me. Don’t fuck this up.”

  Sasha watched Nick, glanced at the screen for a moment, then back to the seething, dangerous man beside her again. Not only had Mike captured the evidence that might put away his murderer, he had also proven that Nick really had been framed.

  His jaw clenched. He didn’t say anything for a moment, like he was too furious to speak without giving into his violent urge to kill Walter Clifford.

  She lay a gentle hand on his forearm, trying to ease his tension. “We’ve got him. This should be enough to send him to prison for a long time.”

  “You better fucking believe it. We need to figure out who to give this to. Who will make sure this evidence gets into the hands of someone with enough power to take Clifford down? Since he’s the one responsible for prosecuting crime in this parish, it won’t be simple. And you can bet he won’t prosecute himself. New Orleans isn’t my town, so I don’t know who to trust.”

  “I’ve been thinking…” She gnawed on her lip and thought the idea through. It was risky, but doing nothing was deadly. “Make a copy of this on the hard drive. We need a backup.”

  “Already done, and as soon as we hit some reasonably secure Wi-Fi, I’ll be sending it to the Santiago brothers for safekeeping. Their backup system is incredibly hack-proof, fireproof, and redundant. Now what?”

  Sasha had never seen Nick any way except sure of himself and his direction. When she looked back, he’d done so much to help her, make sure she had a future. What if she could expunge his record and give them both the vengeance they sought? What if she could give him a happy future, too?

  “Mike had this coworker Josh. He’s a sweet guy. A real crusader. He once got into hot water at work for listening to a defendant’s side of the story and wanting to drop all charges. In the end, Josh was right, the guy Clifford wanted to charge with the crime was innocent. I remember Mike coming home and shaking his head because their slimeball boss didn’t care that he might send an innocent man to prison. Clifford only cared that the police had no other suspects, so without this slam-dunk trial, his conviction rate didn’t look as dazzling.”

  “Yeah.” Nick snorted. “No one knows better than me that he’s got a hard-on for sending the innocent up river. So this Josh guy can help?”

  “I think so. After that incident, the mayor put him on a citywide crime task force. From what I can tell, he made a lot of high-powered friends. I’m betting if we contact Josh he can put us in touch with the right people. I mean, Josh and these folks went over Clifford’s head once. Why wouldn’t they do it again?”

  Nick hesitated for a moment, then nodded, the gesture gaining strength the more he thought about it. “Yeah. You know how to reach Josh?”

  “I think so. Let me double-check with some Internet searches.”

  He thrust the computer in her direction. “Be quick. The laptop battery is dying. We need to plug this thing in.”

  “Where? We checked out of our motel.”

  “I’ll hunt down another one.” He grabbed his phone. “You find Josh.”

  For a few silent minutes, they both scoured their respective devices. It didn’t take long to find Krandall, Joshua. She found a home address, no phone number. Of course, it was midday Monday, so he would likely be at the office. How could she reach him under Clifford’s nose?

  “Got one,” Nick burst into the silence. “I found a motel right off Highway 61, not too far from the DA’s office. It’s a dive, not affiliated with a chain. Their website says they’ll take cash.”

  Sasha conveyed her findings about Josh. “We might have to call his office and arrange something this evening.”

  “Too risky. It’s damn likely all calls in and out of the DA’s office are recorded.”

  Nick was right. “Then we may have to wait until he gets off work and drop by his house.”

  At first, Nick scowled at the delay, but Sasha watched his thoughts working as he seemingly considered all their choices and possible outcomes. “All right. That gives us time to grab some more ammo and prep a game plan for approaching this guy. And a nap. I barely slept a fucking wink last night.”

  Sasha hated to hear that. “Insomnia?”

  Nick slanted a glance at her that silently asked if she was serious. “I can’t sleep next to you when I’d rather be inside you.”

  She felt heat crawl up her cheeks…and swirl between her legs.

  Of course he hadn’t rested. She’d had an amazing orgasm. And he hadn’t. No, that wasn’t quite true. He had given her a mammoth, earth-shaking, jaw-dropping, scream-worthy, life-changing cataclysm of pleasure. Then she’d allowed him to goad her into anger, and all thought of throwing herself at him again had fled.

  Sasha felt more than vaguely guilty. She wished she’d given him pleasure in return instead.

  “Then I’ll give you some space so you can rest. If you don’t mind, I’d like to drive by Josh’s place first, make sure he really still lives there. He’d actually just purchased a house shortly before Mike’s death, so chances are good but…”

  “Let’s go.” Nick took the computer back from her hands as she navigated the traffic to Mid-City.

  Thankfully, she didn’t need the GPS on his phone to remember Josh’s location. She and Mike had come here, hand in hand, to mingle with friends and celebrate new beginnings. Had that been a mere two years ago?

  Sasha stopped in front of the starter home. It was long on charm, with brick steps, craftsman pillars, a wide porch, and what appeared to be original stained glass in the transom above the front door. However, the cottage was short on space, looking dwarfed by much bigger neighbors on either side. But it had been freshly painted, was well maintained, and had original hardwoods inside, as she recalled.

  Nick sidled out of the SUV and opened the mailbox at the curb. “Empty.”

  He headed to the side yard. Tucked against the fence, adjacent to the patchy concrete driveway, sat a huge plastic tr
ash can and a recycle bin. He pretended to trip over the bin, nudging the lid off the squatty receptacle and spilling out most of the contents.

  “What are you doing?” Sasha frowned.

  “Double-checking.” He glanced around to ensure none of the neighbors were being nosy. But in this neighborhood, people worked. It seemed unlikely that anyone would be watering the flowers on their porch or taking their dog for a walk right now.

  Sasha believed in respecting others’ privacy. She totally valued hers. But locating Josh quickly and quietly could well be life or death. “Find anything?”

  After he bent to tuck away the newspapers and the empty, rinsed milk carton, he did an amazing imitation of someone picking up flyers, ads, and discarded envelopes without actually reading a word.

  “Bingo. He still lives here. He tossed the water bill, presumably after he paid it, into the recycle bin.” Nick shook his head as if Josh had made a critical mistake.

  Despite the tense situation, Sasha had to laugh. “He didn’t shred, so off with his head.”

  The smile that spread across Nick’s full lips took her breath away. White teeth flashed against his olive complexion. His dark eyes sparked with something both funny and alive. He almost looked…happy. It was a breath-stealing sight.

  “Okay, maybe not that severe but I believe in being careful. Identity theft is serious business. Why make those fuckers’ crimes easier?”

  “You’re right.” She helped him put the last of the paper back into the bin. “So we’ll come back later?”

  Before they could answer that question, a pretty redhead stepped out the front door, with a little white furball on a leash. She glanced warily at Nick. “Can I help you?”

  Sasha stepped forward. “Are you Josh’s”—she looked at the woman’s bare left hand—“girlfriend?”

  She shook her head, the ginger strands of her quirky bob swaying. “No. His dog walker. I’m Hannah. This is Monster.”

  When the six-pound pup barked in a tone Sasha was sure he meant to be menacing, she tried not to smile.