White Hot (33 page)

He swallowed the pills, then asked, “Any media?”

“About one o’clock a news van from a New Orleans station pulled up to the gate and two men got out. They stared at the house for a while, then got back in the van and drove away.”

His eyes had closed again; he only nodded.

“There was a brief mention of the fracas on the noon news, with promises of more to come on the evening newscasts. Nielson’s office issued a statement. He regrets the violence, claims it wasn’t his people but Hoyle employees who jumped you.”

“He’s right. I recognized them.”

“Your cell phone has rung several times. I didn’t retrieve messages, but I checked the caller ID and recognized Nielson’s office number on two of the calls.”

“Call back. See what that’s about. If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I knew Huff would be worried about you, so I called him. I told him that you were all right, that you were resting at home, and that if anybody, including him, tried to come up the driveway, I’d shoot them.”

He smiled at that. “I believe you would. Heard anything from Chris?”

“I’ll tell you about Chris. He isn’t your friend, Beck.”

He opened his eyes.

Slowly she shook her head, saying softly, “He’s not.”

He continued looking at her for several seconds, then his eyes closed and he fell asleep again.

She placed another call to Huff at six-fifteen. After his snarled hello, she said, “It’s Sayre. I just saw it on the six o’clock news.”

His breathing was audible. She could imagine him gripping the telephone receiver so hard his knuckles were white. He would be furiously smoking a cigarette, his eyes black pinpoints of fury. “Did you call to gloat?”

“I called for Beck. When he wakes up, he’ll want to know your reaction.”

At first she hadn’t believed what the TV anchorman reported, and would never have believed it if there hadn’t been video to prove it. The Occupational Safety and Health Administration had moved in on Hoyle Enterprises that afternoon and shut down the plant, from the smelting of scrap iron to the shipping of new pipe.

“It’s a sad day when a man can have his business taken over by a bunch of bureaucrats who push pencils for a living and have probably never broken a sweat in their whole lives,” Huff ranted. “Were you behind this?”

“No,
you
were. You brought this on yourself, Huff. You’d been warned time and again. If you had complied with previous mandates—”

“If I’d tucked tail, you mean.”

Arguing with him was an exercise in futility. He would never concede his own culpability. Hoyle Enterprises would not be allowed to resume operation until a thorough inspection had been conducted on every aspect of the plant. The agency was demanding total compliance with recommendations made as a result of that inspection as well as full payment of any fines assessed for cited violations. It was expected there would be many.

“What do you plan to do?” she asked.

“I plan to stay on those bastards like flies on stink. They’ve got another think coming if they think I’m going to turn my plant over to them to be redesigned.”

According to an OSHA spokesperson, their “redesign,” as Huff called it, included mandatory installation of kill switches on each piece of machinery, guardrails, adequate fall protection, and a ventilation system to improve the air quality.

“When Beck wakes up, what do you want me to tell him?”

He gave her the message he wanted delivered, then launched into another diatribe against the federal agency. “These Yankee D.C. bastards don’t realize who they’re fucking with.”

“Oh, I’m sure they do, Huff. That’s why they’re giving you no quarter.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You’re getting your revenge.”

“It wasn’t revenge I wanted, Huff.”

“You carried a picket sign against your own father. If that’s not revenge, what would you call it?”

“I wouldn’t call you a father.”

She hung up before he could respond.

“Hello?”

Chris smiled into the telephone receiver. “Well, at least I’ve gotten you to speak to me,” he said to Lila Robson.

“Hi, Chris.” Her tone was as frosty as it had been when she drove away from their less than idyllic picnic.

“Miss me?” She waited too long for the answer to be no. He laughed softly. “I thought so. Have you run down the batteries in your vibrator? Why don’t I come over and let’s test them?”

“I don’t want to see you again until that business about your brother is cleared up. Understand? I won’t get involved in that. I mean it, Chris. If you tell my uncle Red that you were with me that afternoon—”

“George will be fired.”

He could hear her quick intake of breath through the phone line. He thought he even heard her swallow. “What?”

“These OSHA inspectors are looking for liability. The plant’s safety director is the first person to come to mind, don’t you agree? If George had done his job properly, he would have known that conveyor needed attention. He would have put a lockout on it until the drive belt was repaired by a qualified maintenance man. Billy Paulik wouldn’t have lost his arm, we wouldn’t have Nielson picketing in our backyard, and we would still be in operation instead of shut down.”

“You can’t blame George,” she exclaimed. “You never want him to lock out a machine. He only does what he knows you and Huff want him to do.”

“Then what you’re saying is that he’s superfluous. We won’t miss him once he’s gone.”

“Chris, please.”

Hearing the tremor in her voice, he smiled and mentally gave himself a thumbs-up for thinking to use this tactic. “Firing George would be my last resort, Lila. My first choice would be to back him when those inspectors start grilling him. I want to keep him in his present position. And you can guarantee that.”

“How?”

“Come Monday morning, I want you to trot yourself down to the sheriff’s office and tell your uncle Red that I was with you on the Sunday afternoon that Danny was killed. That’ll serve a dual purpose, Lila. You’ll be doing your duty as a law-abiding citizen by telling the truth to an officer of the law and saving an innocent man from further hassle. And you’ll be saving your husband’s job.

“See, I was thinking about this new attorney I’ve retained and how expensive it’s going to be just to avoid an indictment. I asked myself why I was going to the time and expense, when all I have to do to put a stop to this mess here and now is produce my alibi.”

He paused, then said, “I won’t even ask if you’ll do it because I know you will. Oh, and by the way, until I’m tired of you, whenever I call for you, you’ll show up, looking gorgeous and hot to get laid. Understand?” he said, repeating the word with the same inflection she had used earlier. “I’m the one who’ll end this affair, Lila, not you.”

George watched Lila disconnect the cordless phone. She dropped it on the kitchen counter and covered her mouth with her hand, visibly upset.

“Lila?”

She spun around, her eyes wide and fearful. She splayed a hand over her chest. “I didn’t hear you come in. I thought you’d be at the plant for hours yet. Are there any new developments?”

“You tell me.”

“What?”

He nodded toward the phone. “You were talking to Chris, weren’t you?”

She opened her mouth to speak but closed it before saying anything. Then she lowered her head, and her face crumpled as she began to cry. “Oh, George, I’ve made such a mess.”

George crossed the room as quickly as his short legs would allow and took her in his arms. “There, there, baby. Tell me about it.”

She told him everything, starting with the first time she’d been with Chris. “It was in a shower stall in the women’s locker room at the country club. I guess part of the turn-on was the danger of getting caught. I just sorta lost my head, you know?”

He could understand that. He lost his head every time he looked at her.

Lila held nothing back. Some of it was so painful for George to hear that he actually groaned, but he encouraged her to continue, right up through the phone call he’d partially overheard.

“If I don’t do what he says, you’ll lose your job. And I heard on the news that criminal charges could be filed against some of the management personnel. That’s you, George, especially if the Hoyles lay the blame with you. You could go to jail.” Her eyes began streaming again. “I’m sorry, George. This is all my fault. I’m sorry. Can you still love me?”

Love her? He adored her. She was his sun and moon, the air he breathed. “I don’t blame you, honey,” he said repeatedly as he held her close, kissing her lips, her wet eyes, her tearstained cheeks.

She would not go to the sheriff’s office on Monday morning. He didn’t want everybody in town to know that Chris Hoyle had fucked his wife. He wouldn’t be able to withstand the humiliation of everybody knowing that, when most people already looked upon him with derision.

He didn’t blame Lila for her infidelity. She had to live with him, and for a vital, beautiful young woman, that couldn’t be very exciting. Chris had provided her with a thrill that he was incapable of providing.

No, Chris was the one George blamed. And Chris was the one who had to be punished.

S
ayre was roused from a light sleep by the sound of running water coming from Beck’s bathroom. She’d lain down on the living room sofa, intending only to rest, but apparently she had dozed off. Knowing that he was awake, she got up and felt her way through the darkness into the kitchen.

By the time she entered his bedroom carrying a serving tray, he was coming out of the bathroom, a towel around his hips, his hair wet.

“You showered?” she asked, surprised.

“I woke up in a puddle of sweat.”

She glanced up at the ceiling fan, which was still turning. “I guess I should have had the thermostat set lower.”

“Wasn’t that. I was dreaming.”

She set the tray on an ottoman in front of the love seat that was positioned diagonally in the corner. “About what?” When he didn’t say anything, she glanced at him over her shoulder.

“I don’t remember.”

“You’re standing upright. How do you feel?”

“The hot shower actually worked out some of the soreness. Why are the lights off?”

“I closed all the blinds at sunset and have been using candlelight. From the road it will look like no one’s here.”

“Good thinking.” He switched off the light in the bathroom.

Sayre struck a match to the candle on the tray she’d carried in. “I fixed you some supper. Tomato soup. Cheese and crackers.”

“You shouldn’t be waiting on me, but I’m too hungry to scold.”

She motioned him toward the love seat, and he sat down, modestly tucking the towel between his thighs, then taking the tray onto his lap. She sat on the ottoman. He picked up the spoon and dipped it into the bowl of soup, then remembered his manners. “Have you had anything?”

“A while ago.”

He took a sip of soup and bit into a slice of cheddar. “How’s Frito?”

“He feasted on bacon and eggs and is presently sleeping it off.”

“Bacon? Thanks a lot. Now he’ll never settle for eggs alone.”

“I felt he deserved a treat. He kept vigil over you most of the afternoon.”

He stopped eating and looked across at her. “Apparently so did you.”

Suddenly the room seemed too dark, too hushed, and Beck was too naked. She stood up quickly and, despite his protests, stripped the damp sheets off the bed and remade it with fresh ones. By the time she had finished, he was washing his supper down with a glass of milk.

She carried the tray back into the kitchen and returned with several Hershey’s Kisses. “I thought you might want a sweet.”

“Thanks.” He removed the foil from a chocolate and popped it into his mouth. “What did you mean earlier when you said that Chris wasn’t my friend? Or did I imagine that?”

She resumed her seat on the ottoman. “No, I said it. He stood by and did nothing while you took a beating.”

“There wasn’t much he could do, Sayre.”

“I don’t believe that,” she said heatedly. “Even if he didn’t want to fight, he held back Fred Decluette from helping you. I saw him do it.”

“I volunteered to go out and talk to Luce Daly. Chris advised against it. He told me to wait until Red arrived with reinforcements. I guess he thought I got what I asked for. I was trying to be a hero.”

His explanation didn’t change her mind. It had some basis, she supposed. But she had seen the look on Chris’s face, and it hadn’t been the anxious expression of someone watching his friend being overpowered by a mob.

“If the situation had been reversed, could wild horses have held you back?” she asked. “Wouldn’t you have leaped to Chris’s defense?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do. You joined him and Danny in the fight three years ago at the Razorback.”

“Which, in hindsight, was reckless. And we weren’t up against a mob, only Slap Watkins.”

At the mention of his name, chill bumps broke out on her arms. She chafed them.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have reminded you of him.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I don’t suppose he’s been captured while I was sleeping the day away.”

“Not that I’ve heard.” She noticed how neatly he had diverted the subject away from Chris, but she allowed it. “I rather imagine the sheriff’s office had its hands full with the situation at the foundry.”

“Did you call Nielson back?”

“I talked to his receptionist. She thanked me for returning her call. Word had reached them about what happened to you this morning. They regretted it, said violence wasn’t Nielson’s style, and asked how you were faring.”

“Maybe he’ll feel sorry for me and keep our next appointment.”

“Maybe. However—”

“Uh-oh. There’s a however?”

She nibbled at one of the chocolates. “Nielson is a moot point, Beck.”

“Since when?”

Uncertain how he would receive the news, she broke it to him as gently as she could. “OSHA shut down Hoyle Enterprises today.” She related to him what she’d heard on the newscasts and later from Huff.

“And,” she added after taking a deep breath, “the agency spokesperson hinted that in addition to the fines that will almost certainly be assessed, probably into the millions of dollars, the Justice Department is conducting its own investigation. Hoyle may yet face criminal charges.”

“I’ve got to get down there.”

He attempted to stand up, but she laid a hand on his shoulder and pressed him back down onto the love seat. “Huff doesn’t want you there.”

“Doesn’t want me there?”

“After I heard the news story on TV, I called him. He was in quite a state, so furious he was barely coherent. But on one point—well, two actually—he was emphatic. He wants you to stay away until the smoke clears.”

“Why?”

She looked down at her hands as they rolled the foil candy wrapper into a tight ball. “He said you could do more harm than good. That you knew too much and…and that it would be best if you were indisposed by the injuries you received today and therefore unavailable to answer the questions put to you by the prying sons of bitches. I quote.”

Beck thought it over for several moments, then said, “He’s right, Sayre. I’d be placed in the position of either incriminating my employer or equivocating to the federal boys and consequently incriminating myself.”

Sayre didn’t say anything, but it disappointed her to hear him admit his culpability.

“What was the second point Huff was emphatic about?”

“That I should be ashamed for picketing against my own flesh and blood, and that I’m no doubt gloating over the shutdown.”

He opened another candy and put it in his mouth. “
Are
you gloating?”

“No. I’m glad Huff is being forced to make improvements. Whether the pressure was applied by the government, or Nielson and the labor unions, or by me, it had to be done, Beck. Things had to change.”

She smiled sadly. “I just wish it could have been accomplished without anyone getting hurt. I was responsible for the attack on Clark and, indirectly, for the one on you. I refused to heed your warnings, and both of you suffered injuries because of it.”

“I’m not sure major change can come about without conflict, Sayre. Progress usually has a price tag attached. Maybe not physical injury, but some form of strife.”

“But you suffered physical injury. Does it still hurt?”

Just below his heart there was a bruise on his rib cage as wide as her palm, visible even in the flickering light of the single candle. She reached out and touched it with her fingertips.

She meant only to examine it briefly but found herself reluctant to break contact with his warm skin. In that spot it was smooth, although the rest of his chest and stomach were dusted with light brown hair.

Barely touching him, her fingertips moved across his stomach to a similar bruise on the other side. Several inches below that, there was another on his hipbone, half hidden by the towel around his waist. She touched it gently, then returned to the first bruise beneath his left breast.

She kept her hand there, watching her fingertips as they lightly rubbed the discolored spot. Then acting on impulse, she leaned across his lap and replaced her fingers with her lips. She kissed the bruise several times with pecks almost as light as air.

Tilting her head, she kissed the one on the other side of his rib cage, her lips scarcely glancing his skin. She nuzzled her way down to his hipbone and kissed the bruise there. Once. Then lifting the towel, she touched her lips to it a second time.

Beck made a low sound. Taking her head between his hands, he pulled her up. He searched her face, his eyes lighting briefly on every feature. He combed his fingers through her hair, holding it away from her head, then letting it drift back into place. He spoke her name on a ragged sigh.

A heartbeat later his mouth was on hers. Being careful of the cut on his cheekbone, she placed her hands against his face and gave herself over to the kiss.

Passion was so explosive and so well matched, it was almost competitive. Their mouths became fully engaged with each other, and the more each tasted of the other, the more they both wanted.

He drew her up to straddle his lap and fit himself into the notch of her thighs. He was surprisingly hard, his erection imperative. She tore her mouth away from his and looked at him with shock.

“My dream,” he said breathlessly, “…the one that made me sweat…I was making love to you. I’m not dreaming now.”

“It could be painful.”

“I’m already in pain.”

Then he reclaimed her mouth and, if it was possible, kissed her even more urgently than before. They broke apart only long enough for him to pull her top over her head. Reaching behind her, he un-hooked her bra and removed it, then pressed his head between her breasts and rested there for a time to catch his breath.

She folded her arms around his head, rubbed her cheek against his hair, which was still damp from his shower. The scent of his skin and the soap he’d used, the chocolate flavor of his breath, were intoxicants.

She rocked her hips forward, rubbing herself against him. “God, yes, again,” he groaned, and she did.

When she felt his tongue against her nipple, she thought she would dissolve with pleasure. Encouraged by her involuntary murmurs, he kissed it sweetly before sucking it into his mouth and pressing it against his palate with his tongue.

He unfastened her slacks and slid his hands inside the back of them, kneading her, pressing, separating, making her thrill to her feminine vulnerability, making her ache with wanting him to exploit it.

“Beck, let me…” She eased herself off his lap and began undressing. When she was down to her lace bikini, she hesitated, afflicted with a sudden and uncharacteristic bashfulness.

He looked at her imploringly. “You’re killing me.”

She removed the panties. He pushed aside the towel at his waist. His sex was full, beautiful, and Sayre felt a primal reaction to it deep inside her own body.

He brushed his fingers through the gingery patch of hair between her thighs, then placed his hands on either side of her waist and pulled her forward. On her knees, she straddled his legs. He pressed his face into the giving softness of her belly and kissed it, then lower, and lower still until he was tasting her, and she was melting against his lips and tongue, quivering to have him inside her, and she told him so.

Given his recent injuries, the coupling wasn’t vigorous…and was better for it. She sank onto him by degrees, because each sensation was new and exciting and too remarkable not to be savored. If he was impatient, he hid it well and seemed to enjoy her self-indulgent lack of haste.

When it seemed to her that they couldn’t possibly be more intimately joined, he cradled her hips between his strong hands and held her in place as he pushed himself higher, making her softly cry out in surprised delight.

Their movements were subtle and slow, but so intense they held their breath through most of it, gasping for air only when reminded that they must. Their kisses were a carnal commingling of mouths. His fingers made deep impressions in the flesh of her hips and held her tightly to him, but her hands were never idle. They moved over his shoulders and arms, the back of his head and neck, his chest. Arching her back and reaching behind her, she ran her hands along his thighs, then caressed him between them. He groaned inarticulate ecstasy.

When he came, he wrapped his arms around her and laid his fevered cheek on her breast. His lips moved against her raised nipple. She couldn’t understand the words he whispered, but they were spoken in such a sexy undertone and with a desperation for release so intense, they induced her own.

Later, they lay facing each other in his bed.

“What did you say?” she asked.

“When?”

She looked up at him and raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

“Oh. A string of dirty words, I think.”

“Very erotic,” she murmured, nudging his sex with her knee.

“Then I’ll say them out loud next time.”

He felt his nipple tighten at the touch of her fingertip, then to his supreme pleasure, she placed her open mouth over it and stroked it gently with her tongue. Keeping her lips against him, she said, “You knew I wanted this all along, didn’t you?”

He was slow to find his voice but finally said, “I thought you might.”

“You knew from the start?”

“From the piano bench.”

She looked up at him. “On the piano bench, I thought you were one of the most arrogant bastards I’d ever had the misfortune to meet.” Drawing her finger vertically down his chin, she added, “Also one of the most attractive.”

“On the piano bench I was wondering how I was going to keep myself from groping you just to see if you were real. You were the sexiest woman I’d ever laid eyes on. Also one of the snootiest.”

She laughed softly. “I wanted so badly to hate you.” Then her expression changed and her tone became serious. “I want so badly to hate you now.”

“You want to hate me for all the dirty work I do for Huff.”

“Yes.”

“I admire your integrity.”

“Do you, Beck?”

“Yes. But can we leave your integrity and my shortage of it outside for a while?” he whispered. “At least until morning.”

“You want me to stay?”