Death by the River (A St. Benedict Novel Book 1) Page 7

  The crescent moon peeked through a veil of thin clouds while crickets chirped from the azalea bushes. Leslie took a deep breath, appreciating the crisp, clean fall night.

  “I had fun.” Derek’s voice deepened as they descended the porch steps.

  Leslie walked Derek to his mom’s beat-up truck. “Me, too. I think hanging out at my parents’ is better than The Abbey. No wild dogs.”

  Derek chuckled and pulled his keys from his pocket. “Sure, but there we didn’t have to duck out before your parents arrived home.”

  Her guilt tainted the glow of their evening together. “I’m sorry.”

  He turned the key in the lock of the truck door. “I’m used to it. I just wish we didn’t have to sneak around so much. Might be nice to spend some time with your family.”

  Come on. Think of something. You’ve got to change this. He deserves better!

  “I’ll talk to Dad about inviting you to dinner. I’m sure once my mother gets to know you, she will love you as much as I do.”

  Derek slipped his arms around her. “What your mother thinks doesn’t matter to me. As long as you love me, I’ve got the whole world.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “We still on for dinner tomorrow night at Carl’s?”

  “You betcha.”

  He let her go. “I’ll call you in the morning after I pick Mom up from the diner. She’s pulling an all-nighter.” He nodded to her front door. “Best get inside and clean up the evidence that I was here before Shelley finds it.”

  Leslie peered down her quiet street, mad at fate for dealing her and Derek such a lousy hand. She didn’t understand why a dick such as Beau Devereaux got to visit whenever he wanted and sit down to dinner with her family, while her boyfriend—the better guy—was left out in the cold.

  Frustrated more than ever, Leslie headed back inside.

  “This sucks.”

  * * *

  A cool breeze whipped through the open windows of Beau’s silver BMW 535i while the steady beat of a banging rock song blasted through his speakers. He got green lights all the way through town and with his two best buds in the car with him, he couldn’t wait to get to his favorite place on earth—the river.

  Mitch did a drum roll on the front dash. “I hope we get to meet some girls at the party tonight.”

  “Did you see the ass on the new girl, Taylor?” Josh licked his lips.

  Beau squeezed the steering wheel picturing Josh Breeland’s small brain in his hands. The big defensive end for the team—what he lacked in brains, he made up for in stopping power.

  “You should be more considerate when talking about girls, Breeland.” Beau sounded cold and hard like his old man whenever he screwed up. To add to his warning, he glowered in his rearview mirror at Josh.

  “Dude, what? You talk that way about Dawn.” Josh’s usually gruff voice crept higher. He leaned in, sticking his head between the bucket seats. His wide shoulders wouldn’t fit. “What difference does it make how we talk about them when it’s just us?”

  In the front, Mitch turned around and, with an exuberant chuckle, slapped Josh on the shoulder. “You know how our boy is. He likes everythin’ nice and shit. No nasty talk about women. He’s got his rep to protect.”

  Josh punched the back of Mitch’s seat. “But how does any of that help me score with girls?”

  Beau eased up on the gas and the car slowed as the illuminated white sign to Rouse’s Grocery Store drew closer.

  “Because, dickhead, I pay for the booze you need to get the courage to talk to girls, so until you can buy your own booze, you have to act appropriately in my car.”

  “Yeah, booze you never drink.” Josh shook his head. “I’ll never get that. How can you not drink?”

  Beau coolly appraised his friend in the rearview mirror, not about to admit the truth. “Because I’m always driving you two boneheads to the river. What do you think my old man would do to me if I got caught driving drunk?”

  Mitch glanced back to Josh. “He’s got a point. Someone’s got to drive.”

  Beau pulled onto the sleek blacktop parking lot and veered to the left, away from where the shoppers left their cars.

  He cruised around the side of the long cinderblock building, security lights glaring into his car, and came to a rear loading dock and another blacktopped parking lot, which was completely empty.

  “You let Eddie know what we need?” Mitch eyed the raised loading dock.

  Beau put his car in park right next to a pile of wooden pallets. “Yep. Called him from the gym after the game. Told him we’re going all out tonight.”

  “I just hope you didn’t get any more of that cheap rum. I got sick as a dog on that last time.”

  Beau removed his wallet from his back pocket and took out two, one-hundred-dollar bills. “Stop whining. The rum was good; you were the lightweight.”

  The creak of a door carried through the lot. Light swept across the blacktop until it covered Beau’s car in a swath of fluorescent haze.

  A single stout man, with curly hair and wearing a Rouse’s black shirt and white apron walked outside. In his arms was a box packed with bottles.

  “My man, Eddie Bishop.” Beau stepped from his BMW. “You got my order?” He popped the trunk.

  Eddie gently set the box in the trunk and the tinkling of bottles carried in the air.

  “I got it.” Eddie faced Beau, a little winded. “I’ll sure be glad when you’re old enough to buy your booze, Devereaux. This crap could cost me my job.”

  Beau handed him two hundred dollars. “When it does, I’ll have my old man get you a job at the brewery. But until then, I need you to keep me stocked with party supplies.”

  Eddie flicked through the money. “Just keep paying me. My girl’s pregnant and I need the cash. Just make sure your guys don’t leave the bottles lying around on the beach. The barcodes can get traced back here.”

  Beau shut the trunk. “We’ll hide the evidence, Eddie. Not to worry. And congrats on the baby.”

  “Thanks.” Eddie stuffed the money in his pocket. “Call me a little sooner next time with your order. I had to do some fast talking with the evening manager to pull the bottles off the shelves.”

  Back inside his car, Beau kept a wary eye on Eddie as he strutted up to the loading dock and climbed the steps. The light in the lot retreated and when the rear door finally closed with a thud, Beau sat back in his seat, his mind buzzing.

  Mitch turned to him. “Is there a problem?”

  “Nah.” His engine hummed to life. “Just glad we got everything we need for our party.”

  Once back on Main Street, Beau steered to the end of the last row of quaint shops, their darkened windows lit by the antique arched street lamps set up at the edge of the sidewalk. He passed display windows touting bakery items and clothes. At the old town hardware store, he took a left on Devereaux Road.

  When he turned in to the cleared lot hidden behind the thick shrubs, he itched to get to the party.

  The thump of a deep synthesized bass echoed throughout the trees surrounding him. He got out of the car and glanced at the steep embankment leading to the beach.

  “Sounds like they started without us.” Josh wiggled out from the back seat.

  Beau went around to the trunk. “That’s just a warm-up. The real party doesn’t start until we deliver the goods.”

  The thick muscles in Mitch’s arms bulged as he lugged the heavy box of alcohol down the pine needle-covered trail from the lot. Beau followed, breathing in the night. He cleared the last swath of trees blocking his view of the beach and saw three roaring bonfires. Logs pointed in a teepee sat in freshly dug sand pits along the beach. Their fire reflected on the murky water, creating eerie shadows on trees next to the narrow waterway.

  The instant his toes hit the sand, the heat from the closest bonfire caressed his skin, chasing away the chill in the air. The music rocked around him, loud enough to get everyone in the mood, but not so overbearing it drowned out conversation.

&nbs
p; His teammates had set the green picnic benches close to the fires while leaving the round metal tubs, packed with ice, farther away. It kept the ice from melting too quickly and the drinks from getting warm. He’d long ago discovered the best set up to create the maximum enjoyment for everyone. That was important to him. His friends needed to have a good time and remember he was the guy who had provided it.

  A swell of pride and excitement careened through him. This was his realm, his world where he could be who he wanted and there was no one to rein him in.

  The river rules and I rule the river.

  Beau patted Mitch’s back as his friend checked out two girls sitting on a bench by the fire. “Put the stuff on ice.” He reached into the box and retrieved a bottle of vodka. “This is for Dawn.”

  A roar went up from the handful of revelers on the beach when Beau stepped out from the shadows. They raised their beers to him, cheering.

  “Our main man is here,” a voice called.

  The adoration fed the black fire in his soul. He had created this, not his old man. Here, he wasn’t Gage Devereaux’s son. He was Beau and could make whatever life he desired.

  “Hey, baby.” Dawn slinked into his arms. “You got my drink?”

  She kissed him hard on the lips, smearing her lipstick over his mouth.

  “Would I forget my best girl?” He handed her the bottle and took a step back from her, feeling a little hemmed in. “But go easy. I don’t want to bring you home drunk. Your parents won’t be happy with me if I do. And you have an image to keep up, remember?”

  “I remember your rules.” She rolled her eyes. “I can get tipsy sometimes, but never drunk.”

  The touch of sass in her voice reminded him of Leslie. He wiped the remains of her red lipstick away and thought of her sister. “We on for our special place?”

  Her eyes twinkled in the firelight, but their lack of anger cooled his desire.

  “Let’s socialize first. We’ve got to be seen by everyone to keep up appearances.” She grabbed his hand and urged him closer to the nearest bonfire.

  The gesture made him feel akin to a Prada backpack flaunted on the first day of school. He balked at her plan to wear him like a fashion accessory and let his hand slip from hers.

  Beau was about to set off across the beach to one of the picnic benches when a pretty blue-eyed brunette sauntered up to them.

  “Hey, Dawn, aren’t you going to introduce me to the man of the hour?”

  Taylor grinned at Beau, not a sheepish smile, but an inviting smirk announcing her interest in no uncertain terms. The brazen gleam in her eye, and the way she dipped her noticeable cleavage in his direction sent a zing right to his crotch.

  Gutsy move.

  He liked Taylor already.

  Dawn must have noticed the blatant flirtation because she cuddled against him, tucking her vodka bottle under her arm. She patted his ass with her hand—a sure sign she was marking her territory.

  “Taylor Haskins is our newest cheerleader. She was impressed with your game.”

  “You like football?” He’d never met a girl interested in the game before.

  “Love it. My dad used to take me to Raiders’ games when we lived in LA. I think you’ve got a real talent for pulling it out in a fourth down situation and converting. You got a knack for reading the defensive line up on the field.”

  Beau could not help but laugh out loud. “You sound like a commentator.”

  Taylor kept her eyes on him, never acknowledging his girlfriend. “My dad worked with the Raiders organization doing PR before your dad hired him. I grew up on the game.”

  Dawn moved from his side, dragging her hand from around his back. She scratched across the stubble on his chin, her eyes glaring up at him.

  “Didn’t you say something about our special place?”

  Her insistent tone did nothing to distract him from Taylor. He wanted to have a little fun with the defiant girl.

  “Yeah, baby, in a minute. I’m being social.” He kept his attention on Taylor, knowing it would make Dawn jealous. “So, your father’s going to put together the national campaign for Benedict Beer.”

  “Yep.” Taylor nodded. “From what he tells me, this is going to be a big jump for your family’s company. Lots of national press. You’ll be famous real soon.”

  Her zeal for his family’s company tagged her as another acclaim junkie looking to attach her star to his. He would have preferred she stick to football.

  After giving him a smoldering glance, Dawn turned on Taylor. “We’ll be back in a while.”

  Taylor blushed. “Ah, sure. I’ll just go and get a beer.”

  She sauntered away, her hips swinging like a bell, captivating him.

  Dawn pressed his chin between her thumb and forefinger, forcing his eyes to her. “Why are you looking at her like that?”

  Beau recognized her deep growl. When she sounded like a threatened pit bull, she was pissed.

  “I’m not looking at her any certain way.” Her jealousy had worn thin. “Just wondering what she’s about.”

  The rigid muscles in her jaw relaxed and she exhaled a long breath. “Yeah, weird, isn’t it? I’ve been trying to introduce her around, but she sure is different.”

  Beau caught a peek of Taylor rummaging through a metal tub over Dawn’s shoulder. She was different. Her bold behavior reminded him of Leslie. They even shared a few of the same physical traits. She’d never replace Leslie, but perhaps she could be a fun diversion.

  “I guess all those LA types are strange.”

  “Enough about Taylor.” Dawn cozied up to him. “You want to slip away?”

  Beau detected the longing in her blue eyes and his interest in sex soured. Taking Dawn to his special room in the cells didn’t appeal to him anymore. He wanted to try something new, but with Dawn around, enticing Taylor would be difficult.

  He took the vodka from her as an idea percolated. “Sure, darlin’. Let’s get out of here.”

  He escorted her along the sandy beach, away from the music and bonfires to a remote spot surrounded by dense trees and hidden beneath sinister shadows.

  He’d stumbled on the isolated section before meeting Dawn when he’d used it as a make-out spot. Since then he’d upped his game and moved his activities to the cells. But the strip of beach, littered with dried twigs and dead leaves, would come in handy for what he had in mind.

  With the faint beat of the catchy dance tune floating past them, he kicked a few sticks out of the way and cleaned off a swath of sand.

  “Voila,” he said, waving to the spot.

  She raised her gaze to the smattering of branches overhead, blotting out patches of moonlight. “Why are we here? What about our room in the cells?”

  He had a seat, setting the vodka in the sand. “I picked out this place special just for us.” He snapped up a small rock and tossed it across the gentle waves of the river. “The cells are starting to feel dirty to me. I want to make you feel like a princess because you are one to me.”

  He thought it was a bit lame, but it would be something she would want to hear. Romance wasn’t his thing, but he’d learned to embrace it to keep Dawn interested. Until he had Leslie, he would have to play her silly games.

  Dawn settled next to him, softly squealing as she did when she was happy.

  “Any place you take me is special. You know that.”

  He eased back on the sand, taking her in his arms, and encouraging her to recline next to him.

  “I always want to make it perfect for you.” Beau reached for the vodka and cracked the seal. “Here’s a toast to us.” He handed her the bottle and waited as Dawn stole a small sip.

  That’s not gonna be near enough for what I have planned.

  “Baby?” He tipped the bottle up to her lips. “That was a toast. You’re supposed to take a big sip. Otherwise, it’s bad luck.”

  She twisted her mouth into a funny smile. “Bad luck? I never heard that before.”

  He put his lips to
her ear, nuzzling her lobe as he spoke. “Take another sip, a bigger one for me.”

  Dawn gave in and he felt his power over her growing. He was glad she didn’t argue. Nothing aggravated him more than when she started with the questions.

  After she gulped down a small portion of the bottle, she coughed and covered her mouth.

  “That’s my girl.” Beau took the bottle from her and pretended to take a sip. She needed to feel comfortable.

  That was the key to girls, as far as he was concerned. Make them comfortable with you, and they’re yours.

  He handed her the bottle, frowning a bit to rouse her worry. “You’d better drink some more. You look uptight.”

  “I’m not uptight.” She pushed the bottle back to him. “Why do I look uptight?”

  Beau put his arm around her, his lips against her neck—the hollow spot under her ear where she loved to be kissed.

  “You always say it feels better when you have a slight buzz on.” He nipped her skin. “I want tonight to be so good for you. I want to make you scream.”

  She tentatively eyed the bottle, biting her lower lip as if having a great internal debate. “But what if I get drunk? You always say not to get drunk when we go out because you don’t want my parents—”

  He pressed his finger to her lips. “Tonight is about us. No parents and no rules.” He set the bottle in front of her. “For me, baby.”

  She looked at the bottle and wrinkled her brow. “I don’t need to be buzzed to have sex with you.”

  The hitch of anger caught in his chest. Stay in control. Don’t let her see who you really are.

  He took a breath and regrouped. “But you need to relax more. I thought you were the one who wanted to try different positions.” He traced his finger over her lips to coax her to drink. “Well, I can’t do what I have planned unless you’re real relaxed.”

  The wrinkle in her forehead smoothed away as she took the bottle. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Something I know you will love, so drink up.” He tilted the bottle back to her mouth, very pleased with his work.

  Dawn pulled the bottle away. “Can I ask you something?”

  He clenched his fist behind her head, then ran his fingers over the red ribbon securing her ponytail.