Hidden Witness. Beverly Long
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“Can we talk about the rules for a minute?” he asked.
“Rules?”
He waved his hand. “Expectations. Firm expectations. We remain in visual contact at all times. That means you don’t even step outside for a quick breath of fresh air without me. If you have to go to the bathroom, I’ll check it first and then stand outside the door.”
“I know we’re supposed to be newlyweds, but won’t people think that’s just a little over the top?”
“I’ll do it in a way that people won’t even notice.” She thought he perhaps underestimated that every woman’s eyes in the place would follow him. He was just so darn handsome, so darn male. “Got it. Visual contact. At all times. It’s just that I’m a little disappointed.”
“Why?” He looked very concerned.
She lowered her lashes. “Well, Detective Hollister. That wasn’t the only kind of contact I was hoping for tonight.”
Hidden Witness
Beverly Long
BEVERLY LONG enjoys the opportunity to write her own stories. She has both a bachelor’s and a master’s degree in business and more than twenty years of experience as a human resources director. She considers her books to be a great success if they compel the reader to stay up way past their bedtime. Beverly loves to hear from readers. Visit www.beverlylong.com, or like her at facebook.com/beverlylong.romance.
For Kate, Nick and Lydia,
who have a wonderful new home in Missouri.
Contents
Chase Hollister heard his cell phone ring and used his forearm to pull the pillow that he slept half-on and half-under closer around his ears. It rang four times and clicked over to voice mail. Thirty seconds later, it started ringing again.
“Damn,” he muttered, tossing off the pillow. He glanced at the number, saw that it was his brother and reached for the phone.
He pushed a button. “I have not had any sleep for twenty-eight hours,” Chase said. “This better be good.”
“Brick is dead,” Bray said.
Chase sat up in bed. He hadn’t heard the man’s name in over eight years. Hadn’t spoken it himself for much longer. “How?”
“Car accident. His sister was with him. They had a double funeral two days ago.”
Chase had met his stepfather’s older sister once, maybe twice. He recalled that even as a teenager, he’d known there was something odd about her. That family had a bad gene pool.
“Anybody else get hurt?” Chase asked.
“Nope. One car. Only Brick and Adelle in it. They were on their way to Brick’s doctor’s appointment.”
He lay back down. He didn’t care about the details. “I’m going back to bed.”
“I got a call from Mom’s attorney,” Bray said. “The house is ours.”
In one smooth movement, Chase swung his body out of bed. His bare feet hit the soft rug first, then the polished hardwood. He walked down the short hallway and into his kitchen. The blinds were up and he was naked. He didn’t care. He needed coffee. “That doesn’t make sense. Brick had a son. I assume the man is still alive.”
“I’m not sure but it’s a moot point. When Mom died eight years ago, the house was in a trust for us. Brick had been granted lifetime use. The attorney said that we should have been made aware of that upon Mom’s death but it was a slipup.”
The irony was not lost on Chase. They could have fought the lifetime-use thing and booted him out of there. He’d have been on the outside looking in, kind of like Chase had been whenever Brick got a wild hair and locked him out.
He dumped some coffee in a filter, poured water in the coffeepot and flipped the start button. He didn’t put the pot on the burner. Instead, he held a cup directly under the streaming coffee.
“You’ve got to go there and see what we need to do to get rid of the place,” Bray said.
Chase jiggled the cup and hot liquid burned his hand. “No way,” he said. “You go, you’re the oldest.”
“I would if I could. I’m three weeks into a new assignment. I can’t pull out now.”