Hardass (Bad Bitch) (14 page)

A hospital worker was washing up in the sink. She turned when we entered. “Hi. What’s up, Dr. Snider?”

“Morning, Cindy. We’re here to see the Bayou Butcher victims.”

She finished washing and adjusted her high ponytail, making it painfully tight. “They’re in the deep freeze. You know where it is?”

“Sure, you know the bays?”

“No, I’ll get them for you. Hang on.” We followed her, my heels sliding across the slick tile floor. I tried not to look at the drain in the center or wonder what was in there.

We followed her to a wide metal freezer door. Cindy pulled a clipboard from the wall next to it and flipped a page. “They’re in seven through thirteen. Looks like sequential from estimated time of death. Here. I’ll make you a copy.” She left and came back in a moment with a copy of the manifest.

“Holler if you need me. I’ve got to do some check-ins from last night.”

“Will do. Thanks, Cindy.” Dr. Snider gripped the long door handle and looked back at Wash and me. “We ready?”

I tried to calm my racing heart.

“It’s going to smell worse. Just brace yourself. Be strong. You can do this.” Wash’s voice in my ear gave me strength to nod.

“Here we go.” Dr. Snider pulled the door open.

A blast of cold air and the smell hit me in the face. I was certain my face was green, because my stomach churned and threatened to upend itself all over my shoes.

“Just stand here for a minute.” Wash’s hand tightened at my elbow.

I peered through the swirl of frosty air and saw racks of black body bags. They were stacked like catering trays, but instead of food they were full of lost lives. Dr. Snider disappeared to the back of the space, and I heard a rolling metal-on-metal sound.

“Got the first one. Taking some pics. Come on in when you’re ready. Some interesting stuff,” he called.

“We’ll wait here as long as we need to.” Wash dropped my elbow and wrapped an arm around my waist. “It’s just a part of the job, Caroline. I’m sorry. I wish I could save you from it. But this is what we do.”

I looked up at him. There was concern in his eyes. Kindness lived there, too. I could do this.

I steeled myself and refused to puss out. “Let’s go.”

“All right. If you want to leave, just tell me.” Wash and I eased into the deep freeze, the cold setting up shop in my skin, my mind.

Dr. Snider was hunched over a body, turning it this way and that to get a view of everything. The body was almost bloodless, like all the other victims. White, so white. The cuts along her torso were clean somehow, the blood washed away. Just open gashes showing the bone and sinew underneath.

“What we got, Doc?”

“The pictures sent over from Dr. Russell were very good, really. He didn’t miss much in his initial examination. Clearly, cause of death was this acute injury across the neck. Perhaps a serrated blade, given the fine tears in the skin. She bled out in a matter of moments.”

I focused on the black bag as Dr. Snider continued. I glanced up when he found something of particular interest and found myself looking more and more often as he explained the injuries and marks on the victim’s body. The main point of note was the carving in her upper back.

“Looks like it was done with some artistry, but whatever it was supposed to be was distorted by the process of bloating and soaking in the water. No way to know. But the multiple lines and incisions, as well as the indicators of blood around the wound, suggest it was done while she was alive and done with several cuts. Would have been painful and bloody.”

I cringed and exchanged a knowing look with Wash. Carved. Just like the wooden totems we’d found in Tyler’s room.

“You sure you can’t tell if it looks like anything?” Wash asked.

“Look for yourself.” Dr. Snider continued examining the rest of her body, remarking on the missing pinky finger and on the ligature marks.

Wash and I approached her back and peered at the carved marks there. Dr. Snider was right. Whatever had been there was erased by decay. It was just a mess of cuts and pain.

“This is so fucked up.” I said it on a hard exhale.

“Here.” Wash backed us up as Dr. Snider concluded his exam.

“I’m fine. Really.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I’m not going to faint. But I may have to take a shower immediately after we leave.”

“Me, too.”

We spent the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon at the morgue. Dr. Snider went over each victim, taking pictures and dictating notes as we inspected right along with him. Each woman had the strange carving in her back and was killed with a bloodletting. It was ritualistic, sick.

Wash and I thanked Dr. Snider on the way out, and Wash instructed him to have a report ready within the next few weeks. We would call Dr. Snider at trial for our side, mainly to deflate any testimony from Dr. Russell that might implicate our client. The cause of death wasn’t in question. The only real question was who did it. Rowan’s face flashed through my mind, the way he’d leered at me. Was he capable of this?

The fresh air outside the hospital was like a second chance at life, though I feared the particles from the deep freeze were ingrained in my skin.

Wash started up the car, and I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

“You didn’t swoon.” Wash smiled at me.

“Neither did you.” I smiled back. It was like we’d gone through a five-hour hell together. Bonded.

“I almost did a couple of times, but I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of you.”

“You’ve been doing that for weeks with or without a morgue.”

He laughed, the dimples dancing and making me forget all about death and murderers and work.

I shrugged. “Sorry. It was a softball.”

“No, no. It’s fine. I’ll get you back.” He drove through the city streets at a leisurely pace.

“Don’t threaten me, Mr. Granade.”

“Not a threat, Ms. Montreat. A promise. And I always keep my promises.”

His words sent a thrill of pleasure down my spine. “We’ll see.”

“We will.” He was a devil, a smoking hot devil who had kept his arm around me or his hand on me, steadying me, the entire time we’d been in the nightmare.

“Come on. Let’s get something to eat. We skipped lunch, and I can think of nothing better to top off this day than a big meal. Am I right?”

“I thought we were going to shower.”
What did I just say?

He raised an eyebrow. “My place, then? Okay.”

Oh, shit.

“No, I meant—I mean—”

“I know what you meant.” His smile was infectious. “I’ll drop you at your car. You go home and get cleaned up. I’ll go home and do the same. I’ll pick you up at your place in two hours. Then we’ll get a big, fancy dinner to congratulate ourselves on getting through the hard part. Sound good?”

Was he asking me on a date? Was this a date? What did he expect? Sex—

“Hey, stop thinking. Just say yes.” He pulled up next to my car.

“I, um, yes.” I scrambled out, my brain not directing my body to move in sync.

He leaned over. “Good. See you in two hours.”

“Right.” I closed the door, and he backed away as I got into my car and cranked it. Did I just say yes to a date with my boss? The one I’d sworn to best in our little game of Tease? Cue the hyperventilation.

Wash

My non-fraternization rule lay shattered and broken, the pieces crunching under my tires as I rushed home to my apartment. Something about holding Caroline during the roughest part of our case, and more than that, that she
trusted
me to take care of her, made my self-imposed rules seem arbitrary at best. Why shouldn’t two consenting adults be allowed to do what they want?

I squashed the quiet voice of dissent in the back of my mind that warned of trouble. Caroline and I had been working this case and
fraternizing
for a while, and nothing bad had come of it. As long as we were careful, it could stay that way.

I pulled into my parking spot and took the stairs two at a time up to my apartment, stripping as soon as I got the door open. The arrangements I’d made for the night via phone on the way home would prove interesting. It was a devious plan, but one I thought Caroline would appreciate. I smirked just thinking of how surprised she would be. Would it be enough for her to ask me to kiss her?

I stepped into the shower, but the water was cold enough to have me hopping back out again. She’d clouded any semblance of rational thought still left in my head.
Get yourself together.
Adjusting the knobs, I changed the water to a temperature that wouldn’t make my balls retreat inside my body and stepped back in.

I still couldn’t believe I’d asked her on a date. I shook my head under the warm spray. I hadn’t asked someone on a date in years. And an associate? Never. I didn’t think it through, didn’t weigh all the options; I’d just done what I wanted to do. It wasn’t normal for me, not even close, but somehow, it was a relief. Finally giving in to her, giving in to my need for her, felt right. Maybe, just this one time, rules were made to be broken.

Remembering her reaction had me smiling as I scrubbed the shampoo into my hair. My cock was already hard just thinking about her, but I wasn’t going to give in. Not this time. I wouldn’t get any release until she was writhing beneath me.

I dried and dressed, forcing myself to slow down even though every nerve in my body itched for me to hurry back to her. My phone buzzed, and I caught it before it vibrated off the dresser. The screen lit up and a familiar face gave me a stern look.

Fuck.
I swiped across the screen. “Hi, Trent.”

“Wash. Glad I caught you. Judge Lane just called me up for drinks with a few other gentlemen. We’re meeting at the Green Room in half an hour. I’ll call ahead and get a table in the back. Want me to pick you up?”

I sat on the edge of my bed, the fire inside me tempered by the sound of my partner’s voice. “I kind of have plans.”

“Plans? Since when do you have plans?”

“I have a date.”

Trent laughed. “Then by all means, do
not
let me interrupt that. It’s been too long for you. I can entertain the erstwhile judge. Do I know her?”

I scrubbed my free hand along my duvet, my palms suddenly sweaty. “I don’t want to jinx it.”

“Okay, then.” He chuckled. “Though I warn you, for touting itself as a big city, New Orleans is still just a small town, so I’ll hear about your mystery date sooner or later.”

My mouth went dry, and I lay back on the bed. “Yeah.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure it’ll take at least a day or two before I get the scoop. Make hay while the sun shines, and I’ll see you in the office next week.”

“All right. See you then. Bye.” I tossed the phone as if it had stung me.

The weight was back, settling on my chest like lead. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. A light scent fluttered around in my lungs. I looked to the side and saw I’d thrown my dress shirt in a heap on the bed. I grabbed it and pulled it to my nose. Caroline. Her perfume had rubbed off on me, sinking into the fabric.

What would I risk to get close to her like that again? I already knew the answer to my question. Everything. She filled my waking thoughts, and I couldn’t think of a moment when I didn’t want to be with her, talk with her, touch her soft skin.
I’m so fucked.
I crumpled the shirt and tossed it next to the phone.

I would just have to get out ahead of it with Trent somehow. When the time was right, I’d sit him down and tell him. As it was, I stood and returned to my closet. I had a date, and nothing was going to keep me from Caroline.

Caroline

Shit just got real. Wash had asked me on a real, actual, legitimate date. I squealed and beat on my steering wheel.

A horn blared behind me, the light ahead of me green as I sat still and lost my mind. I flipped him off, as is custom, and floored it toward my apartment.

Calm down, bitch. Get it together.
A little pep talk never hurt, but I needed more. It was time to bring in the cavalry. I fished my phone out of my bag and dialed Terrell.

He picked up. “You done with the cadaver spelunking yet?”

“That’s gross. Can you come home early?”

“It’s like four o’clock on a Friday. I
am
at home.”

“I’m on my way. Don’t move.”

“Not moving. Already broken into a particularly delicious bottle from Lynch Lane. Where’s the fire, anyway?”

I tore through the deck, the tick-tock of the clock an annoying mental side effect of first-date freakout. “I have a date.”

“Shut the front door.”

“Why do you sound so surprised? I’ve had dates before.”

“I can count on one hand the guys you’ve dated in the past three years, Caroline. And you didn’t accept the D from any of them. So cut the shit. Who’s the lucky fellow?” He slurped his wine, likely just to get under my skin.

“Wash.”

He sputtered, and I imagined wine spewing all over his pj’s. It was gratifying.

“You mean Washington Granade? You mean our
boss
?”

“Yes. That’s the one. Glad you’re firing on all cylinders, Terrell. I mean, he didn’t say it was a date, but—”

“Stop. Back up. Tell me word for fucking word exactly what he said. How he asked. Everything.”

I spent the rest of the short trip home describing in detail Wash’s facial ticks and, though it pained me, coming clean on my past indiscretions. Terrell blew up. Even I was impressed with the number of obscenities hurled at me in the space of thirty seconds. I dreaded going back to the apartment, but I had to get ready. It was a catch-22 situation.

I didn’t even have a chance to slip my key into the lock before Terrell threw the door open with a “You slippery bitch! Get the fuck in here and shower.”

When I hurried past he slapped my ass hard. “Ow! So you aren’t mad anymore?”

He was hot on my heels down the hall, drinking Lynch Lane wine as if it were going out of style.

“Impressed at your pussy control and subterfuge. But the next time you hide something like that from me, I may commit domestic violence. No secrets. Got me, lady?”

“Yes. I promise. I’m sorry. It was just so . . .”

“Hot and wrong. Yeah, I get it. I’m just sad I didn’t
get i
t,
if you know what I mean.”

“Straight. Promise.”

“Whatevs.” He went right to my closet as I stripped down and jumped in the shower yet again.

I got carried away and shaved it all, the whole kit and caboodle, and soaped up enough to make even the most exacting etiquette mistress happy. I was shiny as a new penny when I got out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. Terrell had laid out a red sweater dress with a scoop neck and a pair of dark brown high-heeled boots. A black bra and thong were sitting out as well, next to a set of silver accessories on my dresser.

There was no point arguing with him. He had perfect taste. I shimmied into the thong and snapped the bra in place before drying my hair and doing my makeup. Terrell came in halfway through.

“More eyeliner.”

“I’ll look like a raccoon.” I stashed the pencil in my makeup tray.

He picked it up and handed it back to me. “No, you’ll look like a vamp. More eyeliner. Brown eyes like ours need to pop.”

I snatched the pencil back from him and did as instructed. He bossed the rest of the process, including more mascara than seemed feasible. But when we were done, I saw the error of my ways. I looked fabulous, the brown of my eyes taking on a rich golden hue and my lips luscious in a deep crimson.

“You are magic.” I smiled at his reflection.

He rolled his eyes to try to cover his matching smile. “I know. Get dressed. I’m tired of looking at your girly ass.”

I pulled the dress up, and Terrell zipped it for me. The boots and accessories completed the look.

“Prettiest breeder I ever saw.” Terrell ran his hands down my arms and gripped my hands. “Now go fuck the boss and give me all the details. Measurements are preferable.”

My heart did a backflip and didn’t stick the landing. “It isn’t a guaranteed-sex sort of thing. Besides, he’s been sort of hot and cold. He could go back to cold at any minute. I should probably have told him I had plans or something.”
Not a chance.

“The man you’ve been lusting after for months, possibly years, finally decided to sack up and asks you to dinner. The chances of you turning him down are right up there with the chances of me turning him down.” He tsked at me. “This is going to end with dick, one way or another. You aren’t fooling me, Caroline.”

I kissed him on the cheek, leaving a crimson imprint. “Well, I’ll have to ask him to kiss me first, and I don’t plan on doing that.”

“Bullshit.” He grabbed my elbow gently. “But don’t give him your heart. You’re always so open and bold, but just this once, try to stay guarded. I don’t want you moping about, snotting on my shoulder, demanding I watch chick flicks with you, and being a miserable tyrant.” Though his words were delivered in a stern tone, his brown eyes were warm and carried more than a little concern.

I leaned my head on his chest. “You’re the only man who has my heart. Don’t worry.” Even as I said the words, I doubted them. Wash had a hold on me. It was one I hadn’t been able to shake from the first moment I saw him at that trial when I was in law school. I got a glimpse of him, heard his voice, and something sort of clicked inside me. And ever since then, I’d been making my way to him one way or another.

“Keep it that way. Love is for idiots. Now get your ass to the living room. Two hours is almost up.”

I did as told, my ass barely hitting the sofa cushion before there was a knock at the door. I stood to get it, but Terrell hissed and went for it instead. He’d changed while I was in the shower, now wearing skinny jeans and a tight black T-shirt. He must have had a date tonight, too.

I sat and crossed my legs at my ankles, just like my mother taught me. Inside, I was a tumult. I tried to shake it off, to swat the butterflies out of my stomach like a crazed entomologist with a net. It did no good. This was somehow worse than waiting for my prom date.

“Terrell.” Wash’s deep, rich voice washed over me.

“Come on in.” Terrell stepped back.

My breath stopped. I was legally dead for a few seconds. Wash was clean-shaven, his hair slightly tousled despite his obvious efforts at smoothing it. He wore a simple white button-down, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of blue jeans that highlighted his trim waist and muscled legs. My body warmed and caught fire. I looked him up and down as if he were a centerfold. I couldn’t stop.
Stop, Caroline. Stop!

I knew it was over for me. But the nail in the coffin was his smile. It was full-on pleasure as he watched me stand and walk to him. Full dimples, no smirk, only joy. His lips were a sinful bow, and his dimples begged to be kissed. The way he looked at me—I had never felt so beautiful. No one had ever looked at me with such unfettered admiration. I basked in it.

The silence stretched as we stared at each other and Terrell looked at anything but us. It was cute, really, after all the debauchery I’d witnessed Terrell commit in bars and restaurants and once at church, for him to be uncomfortable at a little eye-fucking.

“Well, have her home by midnight.” Terrell forced a laugh.

Wash’s eyebrows rose, and Terrell dropped his gaze to his shoes.

“Oh, he’s just kidding. I can stay out all night.”

The smirk was back, but I was close enough to get his scent. It must have been his soap. My synapses started firing in an off rhythm, and it showed. “I . . . I mean. I mean, I didn’t mean that I will be with you all night or anything. I just meant . . .”
What had I meant?

“Come on. I got reservations.” He held out his arm, his eyes twinkling.

Grateful for the reprieve from making sounds with my mouth that were dumb, I took his arm.

“Later, Terrell.”

“Later.” He gave me a quick pat on the ass and closed the door behind us.

“I feel like I just met your father.” Wash laughed.

I looked up into his eyes, the sparkle not dimmed by the low lights of the hallway. I’d finally gotten him where I wanted him from the first moment I’d seen him.

“Terrell is far stricter than my father. So you did well.”

“Good to know I pass muster.”

“Oh, I didn’t say you passed, Mr. Granade. I said you did well.” I returned his smirk.

“Wash. Call me Wash. I should have told you that a while ago.”

“Okay, Wash.” I thrilled at being given permission to call him by his given name.

We took the elevator, the air between us bubbling with possibility as we descended to street level. He opened the car door for me, and I slipped in.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” He drove toward the French Quarter.

“Thank you.” I tried to tamp down my stupid smile, but my lips were having none of it. “Where’s the reservation?”

“It’s a surprise.”

I glanced at him, the streetlamps giving his angled face an even dreamier quality. I had the impulse to reach out and run my hand along his jaw. I didn’t. The butterflies were warring with each other in my stomach. It was a brutal contest, given the way I was unsure whether I wanted to hurl from nerves or float away on the joy of being so near a man that took up so much of my mental landscape.

“You look great, too.”

“Thanks. Kennedy always says I clean up nice. If that’s not a backhanded compliment, I don’t know what is.”

“He’s clever. And I can tell he doesn’t have any trouble with the ladies. I wonder if he and Yvonne . . .” I thought better of continuing the gossip train all the way to Inappropriate Station.

“Kennedy doesn’t have a bedpost left to notch. It’s just his nature. I look forward to the day when some woman turns his head all the way around and makes him change his ways. I don’t see it happening anytime soon, though.”

We passed a mini-parade of drunks on a side street in the Quarter. Someone had a French horn and was playing it for all he was worth. Given the disastrous notes, it wasn’t much.

Wash pulled up to the valet in front of an ornate hotel, warm light from the wide windows spilling into the street. The attendant helped me out, and I stared up at the plasterwork hand-painted in greens and blues. There were so many gems like this one in New Orleans, all with their own bit of magic.

There wasn’t a sign denoting a restaurant, but the smells wafting through the open windows had my mouth watering.

“It’s a new venture by a big-name chef in town. Top secret.” Wash offered his arm again, and I took it. He led me up the stairs and into a sweeping lobby, marble underfoot and crystal overhead. The beauty continued along the walls, murals of New Orleans history done in expert strokes.

We met a maître d’ off to the side where the restaurant was situated. He checked our reservation and took us to a candlelit table in a back corner near one of the open windows. The heat in the building mixed with the cool air outside for a pleasant atmosphere. It was early, but the restaurant was already more than half full, with more people coming in by the minute.

“This is so fancy.” I smiled as Wash helped me to my seat, pushing the chair up for me.

He sat to my left instead of across from me. He was close, our elbows lightly touching.

“Glad I could impress.” His gaze met mine, and he was beautiful in the flickering candlelight. Dark hair and impossibly bright eyes.

Whatever air was in the room seemed to have moved away from me, impossibly out of reach. His mouth was a sumptuous lure, and I caught a view of the dark hair along his chest disappearing into his shirt. Even though he’d tasted me and more, I felt shy, as if we were strangers who’d happened across each other and found an unlikely connection.

The server walked up and eased the tension. He didn’t give us any menus, simply asked if we had any food allergies and handed Wash a wine list.

“Do you have a preference in wine?” Wash asked.

“Lynch Lane.” I snorted.

The server nodded. “We have two wines on our lists handpicked by Jasmine Lynch.”

I laughed. “I was joking. But really, Jasmine picked wines for this restaurant?”

Wash crinkled his forehead and gave me a quizzical gaze. I realized he likely had no idea who I was talking about.

“Oh, Terrell’s mom. You know, the Lynches? He usually snags some bottles from Lynch Lane for us. The good stuff. It’s how I manage to get snookered every other night of the week, twice on Sundays.”

His smile grew the more I rambled on about apparently needing to go through a twelve-step program.

“We’ll take the Pinot Noir Jasmine chose.” Wash handed the wine list back to our server.

Once the server turned to leave, I whispered, “Aren’t we going to order?”

“No. They just serve up whatever the chef decided to cook for the evening. The anticipation of the unknown is part of the pleasure, I suppose.”

“Yes, I could see that.” Did he want me to think about the anticipation of what would happen after dinner? If so, it was working. Despite the fancy restaurant, my pussy was not on its best behavior, already wetting my thong. Wash had that effect on me, especially when he looked like he did tonight. Relaxed, happy, handsome.

The server returned and poured our wine. I took a sip and, yes, Jasmine’s taste was impeccable, just like her son’s. If I’d been at home with Terrell, we’d already be at war over who got to drain the bottle. Here, I tried to take it slow. One ladylike sip, and I set my glass down.

“You can drink all you want, Caroline.” Wash took a gulp, as if to goad me. “I saw you home from the bar last night, remember?”

I squinted at him. “Yeah, I heard how you offered several times to put me to bed.”