Didthey do a thorough examination of her body, though?
I had no idea.
“Are you trying to tell me you think this was what happened to Claire?” My voice rose in pitch toward the end, emotion heavy in my throat. “That she was—”
“I don’t know what happened,” he interrupted, saving me from having to say it out loud. “But I have a hunch that voicemail wasn’t simply a bunch of nonsensical and inconsequential ramblings. I could be wrong. It could very well be nothing. That’s the thing about chasing potential leads. Sometimes they end up being a dead end. Other times, they lead us down a path toward the truth. Lucretia may be a dead end. But I’m going to keep turning over every damn rock until there’s nothing left to uncover. Figure out why Claire left you a voicemail mentioning Lucretia. And what connection it might have to Piper.”
“There isn’t one,” I insisted. “Piper didn’t commit suicide. Wasn’t even made to look like she did. Not like with Claire.”
“Initially, I thought the same thing. But then I got to thinking. What would have happened if you weren’t in the house? If Claire hadn’t walked in and surprised him?” He paused. “How do you think it would have ended? By this guy assaulting Piper, then walking away?”
“Was that what Claire figured out?” I asked softly, partly to myself, partly to Nikko.
“I have no idea. But I’m going to find out. Even if it costs me my badge. I got your back, bruh.”
“Thanks, man.”
“You bet. I have to get to the restaurant to help with the pig. The second I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks, Nikko,” I said again, then ended the call.
Standing there, I admired the view. The picturesque Hawaiian landscape as the morning’s first glow illuminated the horizon was a complete contradiction to the turmoil filling me.
Claire mentioning Lucretia on the night she died could have been merely a coincidence, like Nikko suggested, but that didn’t stop my brain from going to that darkest part of my soul, thinking the worst, my heart squeezing at the mere suggestion of my sister enduring something so horrible, so vile.
But why? Why Claire? Who would have wanted to hurt her? Everyone loved her. I struggled to come to terms with the idea of anyone wanting to harm her in any way, especially like this.
Needing to do something to push down the emotions bubbling to the surface, I returned to the bedroom. After stepping out of my briefs, I slipped into bed beside Belle.
I needed her. More than I had before. Needed her to chase away these feelings of guilt. Of remorse. Of shame.
As I pulled her to me, her back to my front, she released a raspy moan, settling into my embrace.
“Morning,” she whispered, her voice lazy from sleep.
“Morning.” I peppered kisses along her shoulder blades, her body sparking to life underneath my mouth.
My hand roamed the contours of her frame, my hips slowly circling against her. When I rolled her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, she whimpered, leaning her head back against my chest as she succumbed to my ministrations.
“Do you want me?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she exhaled.
“And god, I want you.” I circled my hips against her, hardening at the feel of her heat against my arousal. “But we used up all my condoms.” I squeezed her nipple. “You little minx.”
“It’s okay. I can’t get pregnant. I’m fine with it if you are.”
I forced her onto her back so I could peer into her eyes, making sure she really was okay with this. Then I crashed my lips to hers, drinking her in.
“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to be inside you with no barrier.” I stole one more kiss, then rolled her back onto her side, continuing my exploration of her body.
“Say you want me to fuck you,” I murmured into her ear.
“I do.”
“Say it.” I tugged on her nipple, eliciting a yelp, followed by an appreciative mewl.
“I want you to fuck me.”