Читать книгу Every Move She Makes - Beverly Barton - Страница 9

She had told him her name was Ivy Sims. She’d been divorced twice and was presently between boyfriends. Her only kid, a fifteen-year-old boy, lived with her first husband in Mobile. She was too friendly, too chatty, and very obviously interested in more than sharing a drink at Desperado’s. She’d been skimming her red, claw-like fingernails up and down his arm for the past five minutes, and a couple of times she had none too subtly eyed his crotch. He’d had a hard-on since the minute he got a whiff of her cheap perfume—something she’d probably bought at the Dollar Store. If he had his pick of women, Ivy wouldn’t be his number-one choice. She was probably a good ten years older than he was, and every year showed on her darkly tanned face. The deep age lines of a lifetime smoker edged the corners of her mouth and eyes. And although she had nice, big breasts, she had no hips and a flat ass. But right now, Ivy looked damned good. Like a delicious, greasy hamburger would look to a starving man. She wasn’t prime rib, but horse meat would do if a man was hungry enough. And Reed was hungry. Hell, he was famished.

“Briley Joe told me you just got out of the pen. Is that right, honey?” Ivy’s full, red lips widened in a sensual smile.

“That’s right. Just got out today.” Reed lifted his bottle and downed the last drops of his fourth beer.

“You sure do look good for a man who’s been behind bars.” She wrapped her hand around the hard, bulging biceps of his right arm. “You must have spent a lot of time in the prison gym.”

“I take it that you don’t care that I’ve been in Donaldson for the past fifteen years, convicted of murder.”

“Who’d you kill? Or are you one of those guys who was innocent and did time for a crime you didn’t commit?” She chuckled teasingly.

“Yeah, that’s me, all right, an innocent man. They sent me away because a jury said I slit my stepfather’s throat.”

“I had a stepfather,” she said. “Mean son of a bitch. I thought about slitting his throat a time or two, but my old lady divorced him before I ever worked up the courage.”

“Want another drink?” he asked.

“I think I’ve had enough for now. Want to dance?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” He eased off the bar stool, then helped her to her feet and slid his arm around her waist.

When they reached the crowded dance floor, she turned into his embrace and plastered her body against his. His sex tightened painfully. Ivy’s little outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination. Her short skirt showed off a pair of long, skinny legs, and her cropped top hugged her boobs and exposed her midriff. She was pressed so snugly against him that he could barely breath. They moved awkwardly together, their bodies’ rhythms slower than the shit-kicking music the live band played.

Ivy nuzzled the side of his neck, then whispered in his ear, “Just how horny are you, honey? Your prick feels like it’s made out of iron.”

“Horny enough to fuck you for a week and still be hard as a rock,” he admitted.

She laughed, the sound grating oddly on his nerves. It was a throaty, rough laugh—a vulgar laugh coming from a vulgar woman. Ivy Sims was exactly what he needed tonight. He slid his hand between them and covered one breast. Her nipple jutted into his palm. He kneaded the round, soft flesh covered by nothing but her stretchy black top.

“My apartment isn’t far from here,” she told him. “We can be there in ten minutes.”

“What are we waiting for?”

She grabbed his hand and led him off the dance floor and through the horde of hell-raisers and fun-seekers that frequented Desperado’s. Reed caught a glimpse of Briley Joe sitting at a table with a cute little brunette. His cousin grinned and nodded. In high school, he and Briley Joe had shared the details of their sexual escapades, each always trying to out-boast the other.

The warm, humid night air hit him the minute they went outside. He took a deep, sobering breath. He wasn’t drunk, but he wasn’t completely sober either. He hadn’t had a beer in fifteen years, and four in a row had given him a slight buzz. Reed draped his arm around Ivy’s hips, then lowered his hand to clutch the right cheek of her butt. She giggled again. By the way she reacted to his pawing, he figured she was almost as eager to get laid as he was.

“Here’s my car.” She rummaged inside the tiny shoulder bag she carried and pulled out a key chain. “You want to drive?”

“Naw, you drive.” He caressed her butt. “I’d rather concentrate on other things.”

She unlocked the car, pulled out of his arms, and shoved him inside and onto the front seat. She raced around the hood and got in on the driver’s side. “You keep your hands to yourself while I’m driving,” she told him. “We don’t want to wind up in a ditch instead of my big old comfortable bed, now do we?”

“I’ll keep my hands off you, but it won’t be easy.” He needed a woman so badly right now that he would gladly screw a three-toed sloth as long as it had tits and a cunt. And Ivy was certainly a few notches above rock bottom.

By the time they reached her apartment, a brick duplex on a tree-lined street on the south side of Spring Creek, Reed had decided that Ivy was downright gorgeous. Hell, he’d always liked blondes, hadn’t he? Even bleached blondes with dark roots.

Ivy’s hands trembled as she unlocked her front door. Reed stood directly behind her, his erection pulsing against her rear end. His muscular arms circled her. One hand covered a breast and the other crept up her skirt and eased between her legs. She shivered with anticipation. She was already hot and wet and throbbing.

She flung open the door. Reed shoved her inside and slammed the door behind them. She’d left a lamp burning in the bedroom, and only that dim glow and the illumination from the nearby streetlight kept the living room from being totally dark. The minute she dropped her shoulder bag on the sofa, Reed reached out and tugged on her cropped top. She lifted her arms and let him remove the garment. He tossed it on the floor and grasped both of her breasts. She groaned in response to the pressure of his big hands as his fingers dug into her flesh.

“Take it easy,” she told him.

His touch gentled immediately. His thumbs skimmed over her nipples. She sighed. Then he lowered his head and took one peak into his mouth and suckled. She tossed back her head and moaned with pleasure. He slid his hand between her legs and pushed upward until he reached his goal. After slipping his fingers inside her bikini panties, he rubbed her nub until she closed her legs and held his hand in place. He worked his fingers over her slippery folds and inserted them up and into her.

Reed’s movements were rough and crude. But she had to remember how long it had been since he’d been with a woman. The last time he’d made love, he’d been a kid, a teenager.

Ivy unzipped Reed’s jeans, reached inside, and slipped her hand under his briefs. He groaned deep in his throat when she encircled his shaft and withdrew him gently.

“God, Ivy, I can’t wait any longer.” He grabbed her and flung her onto the sofa.

She lifted her hips, jerked off her panties, and spread her legs. “Come on, big boy.”

“It’s been a long time for me. I’m out of practice.” He pulled a condom out of his pocket, ripped open the packet, and slid the rubber over his erect penis.

“It’s all right, honey,” she said. “I’ll be gentle with you.”

Her teasing laughter turned to gasping sighs when he thrust into her. God, he was big. Big and hard and pumping into her like a jackhammer. If he didn’t slow down, he’d be finished before—

A animalistic cry of completion moaned from deep within him as he climaxed. Convulsions of release racked his body.

He slumped over to her side, easing part of his weight off her. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t come.”

“It’s all right,” she said, and meant it. She’d never seen a guy more in need.

“Give me another chance and I promise I’ll do it right next time.” He used his fingers to comfort and entice her. “What do you say?”

“Why don’t you stay all night?”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Ella arrived at her office promptly at eight o’clock. She liked to get in earlier, but when her father was in town, she stayed home to have breakfast with him. Ordinarily she grabbed a cup of coffee and a biscuit and ate on her drive from their home on East First Street to the courthouse in the center of the town square. Her mother seldom woke before ten, and then Viola usually served Carolyn breakfast in bed. So, this morning she’d had her father all to herself. There was no one she loved and admired more than Webb Porter, and she thought herself fortunate to be his daughter. Despite the fact that they didn’t share the same genes, they were remarkably alike. In her case, nurture definitely won out over nature. She was a true Porter in every sense of the word. Her father had told her so many times. The fact that they thought alike on so many issues and had similar traits and habits seemed to delight her father as much as it did her. They were as close as any parent and child could be. She knew without a doubt that she was the joy of Webb Porter’s life. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

Ella laid her briefcase down atop her large antique oak desk. Her father had sat behind this very desk when he’d served as a circuit court judge, before his election to the U.S. Senate ten years ago. When she’d been elected last year, he had told her that she was carrying on a family tradition. Webb had been a local district attorney and then a judge. His father before him had been a congressman, and his grandfather the lieutenant governor.

After removing her jacket and hanging it over the back of her chair, Ella sat down in the tufted-backed oxblood leather swivel chair. Her mind instantly wandered back to something her father had said during breakfast.

“If that man contacts you, I want to know about it immediately,” Webb had told her. “He swore revenge against me, and I wouldn’t put it past him to come after you in order to hurt me.”

“Daddy, do you really think Reed Conway is a danger to our family?”

“I think he very well could be. If he’s bent on getting back at me, then it’s possible that he’ll go after the people I love. So I want you to promise me to be careful and notify me if he approaches you, either in person or with a phone call.”

Ella shivered. A sense of foreboding echoed inside her. Did she truly have something to worry about where Reed Conway was concerned? Was her father being overly cautious? Would Reed actually jeopardize his parole in order to seek revenge? If anything happened to a member of her family, Reed would be the first person the police would question. She really hadn’t known Reed, except to recognize him as Judy Blalock’s son. Judy Conway. After her second husband had been murdered, she’d legally changed her name back to Conway.

And of course, Ella had known Reed as the star of Spring Creek High’s football team. He’d been the guy every girl wanted and every parent feared. He’d had a reputation as a stud, and even when she’d been fifteen, she had understood why girls were drawn to him like moths to a flame. He’d been big and ruggedly good-looking and possessed a cocky smile that made you think he’d been up to no good. And from what she’d heard, he usually had been up to no good.

A knock on the door brought Ella back from her memories. “Yes?”

“It’s me, Miss Ella,” a gentle masculine voice said. “I’ve come to fix your lights.”

“Come on in, Roy.”

One of the flourescent light fixtures overhead had burned out yesterday and she’d had her secretary, Kelly, request a maintenance man to replace the bulb. Roy Moses, with a tool belt hanging below his jelly-belly tummy, just above his hips, entered the room carrying a ladder. He smiled and nodded, his squinty brown eyes, greeting her with his usual appreciative glance. Roy was a few years older than she, a bit slow-witted, and one of the sweetest guys she’d ever known. He wore his white-blond hair cropped short, which made his full face look perfectly round, like a pale pink ball.

“Good morning, Miss Ella. How are you today?”

“I’m fine, Roy. And you?”

“Fine as frog hair.” He chuckled, the sound a series of deep, slow haw-haw-haws.

“That’s good.” Ella had known Roy most of her life. He had a sister who was a nurse and a brother who was a fireman. Roy’s IQ score identified him as borderline retarded, but he was a hard worker who held down two part-time jobs. He wasn’t a member of the regular maintenance staff, but was employed as a part-time janitor who did odd jobs at the courthouse—a position Webb Porter had insisted be created for him. His other position was at Conway’s Garage, where he washed and waxed cars and did odd jobs.

“Don’t want to disturb you none,” Roy said as he set up the ladder beneath the fluorescent ceiling fixture.

“You aren’t disturbing me. Go ahead and do your job.”

“You look real pretty this morning, Miss Ella.”

“Thank you.” Every time he saw her, Roy told her how pretty she looked. She suspected he had an innocent crush on her.

“Did you hear the news?” Roy began climbing the ladder.

“What news is that?” Ella unsnapped her briefcase.

“That Reed Conway is out of prison.”

“Oh, that. Yes. I’m sure everyone in Spring Creek is aware that he was released on parole yesterday.”

“I liked Reed.” Roy inspected the light fixture. “I’ll have to take this down and go get another one.”

“You liked Reed Conway? I didn’t realize that you’d actually known him.”

“Sure, I knew him. He was my friend. My brother Tommy played football with Reed and he used to come to our house sometimes. He was always nice to me. He never made fun of me the way some of Tommy’s other friends did. And he’d let me toss around the football with him and Tommy.” Roy chuckled his good-natured haw-haw-haw. “Reed used to call me ‘my buddy Roy Boy.’”

“I didn’t really know him,” Ella said.

“You would have liked him. Everybody liked Reed. I couldn’t believe it when they sent him away to prison. Anybody who knew him knew he wouldn’t have killed nobody. Not Reed.”

“Sometimes even good people do bad things.”

“I know Reed’s stepdaddy was a bad man, but if Reed killed him, he didn’t mean to.” Roy removed the burned-out light fixture and climbed down the ladder with it. “I’m going to be working with Reed.”

“What?”

“Over at the garage,” Roy said. “Briley Joe gave Reed a job. He said wouldn’t nobody else in town give Reed a job. I can’t hardly wait to see Reed again. He’s supposed to start work today. I’ll bet he’ll call me Roy Boy. Sure will be good to have a buddy again.”

Roy carried the light fixture with him as he left Ella’s office. She stared at the metal ladder he’d left behind. In the years since Roy had been working at the courthouse, Ella had found him to be a remarkably good judge of character. It was as if he had some strange sixth sense that allowed him a special insight into human nature. How was it that he could be so wrong about Reed Conway? The man was a murderer. He’d been tried and convicted. Her father had been the prosecuting district attorney, and there hadn’t been a doubt in Webb Porter’s mind that Reed Conway had viciously slit his stepfather’s throat. Even his own mother had been forced to testify that she’d witnessed a brutal fight between a drunken Junior and a furious Reed. Junior Blalock had tried to rape Regina Conway, who’d been only eleven at the time. If Reed had killed Junior while defending his sister, he wouldn’t have been prosecuted for murder, but Reed had caught the man later, after the fact, while Junior had been unconscious. Reed had cut his throat from ear to ear.

I want to wrap my hands around your soft white neck and then move them down your bare shoulders and over your sweet breasts.

Ella shook her head to dislodge the memory, to erase the words that were forever etched in her mind. Words Reed had written to her from prison. Two love letters that had been both frightening and titillating to the sixteen-year-old Ella. Harassing letters that had infuriated her father and prompted him to take legal action to end Reed’s letter writing.

She hoped she could avoid seeing Reed Conway. But what if her father was right and the man sought her out? Heaven help him if he did threaten or harass her in any way. Webb Porter would have the man’s head on a platter.

Reed woke slowly, languidly, lying facedown, the smell of cheap perfume on his pillow. He opened his eyes and glanced at the other side of the bed. Empty. He listened. Silence. Where was Ivy? When he lifted his head to look at the alarm clock on the bedside table, he saw the note propped up against the lamp.

Gone to work. Last night was great. Let’s do it again soon. She’d underlined soon three times.

Reed grinned. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so good. Ivy was an all-right kind of woman. She’d been understanding about his lack of patience and expertise. Hell, he was rusty at sex. In the pen, he’d warned off potential rapists. It had helped that he’d been big and surly even as a teenager. And those first few years, he hadn’t given a damn about how much trouble he got into or whether he killed somebody protecting himself. For the past fifteen years, he’d found his sexual pleasure in the palm of his own hand. Fucking a woman beat the hell out of just dreaming about fucking one.

Reed climbed out of bed and stalked off to the bathroom. He peered at himself in the mirror over the sink. His eyes were bloodshot and he badly needed a shave. And he had a silly grin on his face. The grin of a man who’d spent the night screwing a most obliging woman. Ivy wasn’t the girl of his dreams, but she’d been mighty accommodating.

He pawed his chin, testing the scratchiness of his beard stubble. Ivy hadn’t complained about the stubble. She hadn’t complained about anything. Any other woman would have kicked his butt out of her bed and demanded that he shave. He’d just bet that Ella Porter didn’t let a man even kiss her unless he was clean-shaven. Ella Porter, Webb’s darling daughter. He’d barely known the girl. Other than seeing her a few times over the years at the Carlisle house, their paths had never crossed. So why was it that she’d been the girl he had thought about while he was in prison? Why was it that she’d been the fantasy of more than one wet dream? Was it because he’d written her those damn crude love letters? The only reason he’d written them was because he’d known they’d piss off Webb. Fifteen years ago, he’d have done just about anything to hurt Webb. And he’d found out right quick that the best way to get to the high-and-mighty Mr. Porter was through his beloved little girl.

Reed took a quick shower, then reluctantly put on the clothes he’d worn the night before. He bundled his briefs into a wad and stuffed them in his jeans back pocket. Before leaving Ivy’s apartment, he checked for her phone number and memorized it. He just might ask her for a repeat of last night’s highly satisfactory performance.

He showed up at Conway’s Garage two hours late for his first morning on the job. But Briley Joe just grinned at him and patted him on the back.

“Ain’t nothing like good pussy, is there? I’ll bet Ivy taught you a trick or two, didn’t she? As I recall, the lady knows how to please.”

“She sure as hell pleased me.”

“She’s not first-class, but you had to start somewhere. You can work off some of your frustration with her and then move on to something better.”

“Is that your subtle way of trying to tell me that you’ve got something better?” Reed knew Briley Joe was the sort who liked to brag about his sexual conquests. In that sense, his cousin was as immature as he’d been at eighteen.

“Yeah, I’m getting some from one of the classiest broads in town. If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“So, tell me and let me be duly impressed.”

“Talking kind of fancy, aren’t you? You haven’t let that college degree you earned in the pen go to your head, have you?”

“That college degree didn’t do me a damn bit of good getting a job on the outside, did it?” It stuck in his craw that the only job he could get was as a grease monkey in his cousin’s garage. Reed clamped his hand down on Briley Joe’s shoulder and grinned. “So who’s this classy broad you’re screwing?”

“Cybil Carlisle.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Yep. I’m getting all I want from Jeff Henry Carlisle’s wife. Can you believe it? And I’m here to tell you that she’s one wild woman.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, cuz,” Reed said. “If Jeff Henry ever finds out, you’re as good as dead.”

“That Pillsbury Doughboy wouldn’t dirty his lily white hands on me.”

“You’re right about that, but he wouldn’t think twice about hiring somebody to beat the shit out of you, and if that didn’t stop you fooling around with his wife—”

“Nobody knows. You’re the only person I’ve told. She warned me that if I opened my big mouth about her to anybody, she’d cut me off.”

“Damn it, man, she’s Webb Porter’s sister-in-law. She was a Walker before she got married. Her family’s been one of the ruling clans in this state for the past two hundred years. Why would she risk her reputation and your life to have an affair with you?”

“Because Cybil Carlisle likes to walk on the wild side. And I can tell you that there’s nothing better than a lady who wants to get down and dirty with a bad boy. You ought to try it sometime. Maybe with that niece of hers. I’ll bet Miss Ella Porter has never forgotten those hot letters you wrote her.”

“I’d like to forget those letters, and I’m sure she has forgotten them. From what my mother tells me, Judge Porter is good woman—a real lady. If I even said hello to her, she’d run scared.”

“You won’t know until you give it a try. Who knows, she might not run.”

“Ella was never my type. And God knows I wasn’t her type back then, and I’m sure as hell not her type now.”

“Okay, so the judge doesn’t crank your motor. She’s not the only class act in town. Look around. I’m sure you’ll find somebody who suits you.”

“I’ll stick with Ivy and her type for the time being,” Reed said. “A good, uncomplicated fuck is all I want from a woman right now. My main focus is on finding out exactly who killed Junior Blalock and let me take the fall. Mark Leamon believes in me and he’s going to help me try to prove my innocence.”

“You ever think that Aunt Judy might have done it?”

“No! Mama would never have let me go to prison for a crime she’d committed.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Aunt Judy would do just about anything for you and Regina.” When Briley Joe removed his ball cap and scratched his head, curly brown locks fell across his forehead. The rest of his shoulder-length hair had been pulled back into a short ponytail. “Man, where can you start? The police didn’t find no evidence against anybody but you. And we know you didn’t kill Junior. So who did? Who else besides you, Aunt Judy, and Regina had a reason to want to see Junior dead?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Reed said. “But I’ve made out a list of possible suspects, and Webb Porter’s name is at the top of that list.”