Killer Curves by Christa Wick

Author:Christa Wick [Wick, Christa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wicked Christa
Published: 2012-09-19T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

I waited in my car for my head to stop spinning before I pulled into traffic. My heart threatened to override my mind. Little flushes of heat broke out across my skin and large sections of flesh rippled with goose bumps as I remembered what Dante had just done to me.

My need to find the killer had magnified. Dante had no intention of letting me go -- not while Alex was still in jail. Different story, I was certain, once the case was closed.

So close it!

Right -- find the killer and then watch Dante walk away again before the hurt was too deep to heal.

With my hands too shaky to even fit the key in the ignition, I decided the car was as good a place for a strategy session as the office. Leaning my head back, I closed my eyes. Maybe the vertigo I felt would help me see what I hadn't been able to see at either of the crime scenes or with the witnesses.

I imagined Max, remembered his worried gaze when he asked if I was on the pipe. He didn't like the pipe and I hadn't smelled any other drug on him. So why was he at the shelter? And why had he gotten caught outside it after curfew? My mind drifted across the street from Arby's. I had the vague memory of a liquor store there. Was Max's vice alcohol? Had he shuffled and hacked his way from the shelter to the liquor store, had a pint and fallen asleep in the alley, waking up after curfew?

I needed to go back to Arby's, to the liquor store and the other surrounding shops. I grabbed the phone and dialed Ivy.

After four rings, the wrong voice answered. "Hello?"

"Momma, what are you doing answering Ivy's phone?"

"Ivy?"

"Ivy, momma, she's spent all day with you."

"You mean the maid?"

I groaned. At least momma still had no trouble remembering me. "Just call Ivy's name for me, I need to talk to her."

She complied, giving such a loud, good ole Southern come-to-dinner call without taking the phone away from her mouth that I felt my eardrum retreat. I yanked the cell away from my face and waited until I heard Ivy take the phone.

"This is Ivy."

"Hey, do you think you can stay late?" Ivy was married with two teenaged kids and a husband, so I hated asking. "Don't know how late."

"Only if you tell me you have a hot date with a rich man."

I sighed, half wishing it was true. Instead, I was trying my best to disentangle myself from a hot, rich male who still knew how to deliver mind blowing orgasms even if he was faking it to get his son out of jail. "Best I can offer is overtime and something from the liquor store."

There was silence on the other end as Ivy evaluated her bargaining position. "Jack Daniels, single-barrel. Ed'll expect me to put out if he has to cook dinner for the kids tonight and..." she dropped her voice to a whisper, "If I have to sleep with my husband, he better have whiskey dick.

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