Cut and Run Page 4

  “Excuse me?”

  “Turn. Me.” She raised a brow and ignored her mother’s look from the other side of the dance floor. She’d be grilled on who Jarrod was for sure later, but for now, her mother was just going to have to wait. “I need to show you all the players of Simms Pharmaceutical. They’re behind you.”

  He gave a slight nod and turned her on the dance floor, his hand dropping slightly lower on her back as he did so. She fought to ignore his wandering hands and focused her attention on giving him what he’d asked for. “Warrick Staunton is the CEO of Simms Pharmaceutical. He’s the man over there with the blonde hair and green eyes.” She nodded in the direction of Warrick Staunton who was now standing where both she and Jarrod could see him. “He’s the great grandson of the founder of Simms Pharmaceutical. He took over as their CEO about six years ago.”

  “He looks too young to be a CEO right now, never mind six years ago.”

  She smiled. “He does, but looks are deceiving. He’s older than you think he is. Thirty-eight, I believe. The man with him is Jonathan Simms, nephew of the founder of Simms Pharmaceutical and Warrick’s uncle. They’re close, the whole family is. Jonathan is one of the researchers in the company.”

  Carrie looked toward Warrick and tried to see him as Jarrod would be viewing him. The man was GQ-magazine-good-looking. He could have walked out of the pages of a magazine, she supposed. She’d been friends with his wife so she tended to see Warrick more through the lens of a pseudo-sister. But, she wasn’t blind to his good looks. He could walk up to just about any woman in the room and have them in his bed with the snap of his fingers.

  “Why isn’t Jonathan Simms the CEO? He’s older than Warrick by at least fifteen years. You would think the title would’ve gone to him.”

  “It’s more than a title, and Jonathan isn’t cut out to be CEO. Nor is he interested. Jonathan is interested in one thing, and that’s discovering new medicines. He likes burying himself in the lab. Warrick likes to be in the office.

  “And that didn’t cause problems?”

  Carrie gave a little shrug of her shoulders. “Not as far as I’ve seen or heard.”

  They watched for a minute as Warrick and Jonathan held court. They were the kind of men that people wanted to talk to. Warrick, mostly because he could do things for people. He was powerful and had a lot of connections. Jonathan, because even though he was a self-proclaimed geek, he was funny and kind and people liked being with him.

  “Okay, how about Branson Medical?”

  Carrie kicked herself. She’d been so focused on how he was effortlessly moving her around the dance floor, she almost missed the question. She liked the way the fabric of his tuxedo felt over the broad muscles of his shoulders. She slid her hands down his shoulders to his arms, and had to bite her lip to keep from squeezing the muscles she found there. Lord but the man was built. He was different than the rest of the men in the room. There was a genuineness to him that the others lacked. She didn’t know how to describe it other than to say he seemed real as opposed to some cardboard cut-out wearing the right clothes and the right hairstyle like all the other men.

  “Carrie?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Branson Medical?”

  “Oh! Yes.” She didn’t have to look far to find Meredith Ball. She tilted her head in the opposite direction. “See the redhead in the black dress?”

  Jarrod steered them to the side of the dance floor, but he kept one hand on her back as they stood together watching Meredith Ball. The sensation of his hand on her back continued to distract the heck out of her. Maybe it was an interrogation tactic of his. A way of throwing her off?

  He looked over at Meredith Ball. “The one shamelessly flirting with the man half her age?”

  Carrie nodded. “That’s the one.”

  Jarrod snorted.

  Carrie frowned. She had a hard time understanding Meredith, too. “I think I told you about her the other day? From what I hear, she and her husband have quite a happy marriage. She just likes to flirt. A lot.”

  Jarrod laughed and the sound washed over her. “You told me, but I guess I didn’t picture it right.”

  She made a noise of assent and pressed her lips between her teeth. Why does this man have this effect on me? It was annoying to say the least.

  “You said Branson Medical might be expanding their business?” He leaned in to speak close to her ear.

  Carrie nodded and smiled at one of the guests walking by her before answering “Yes. It’s a private company and much smaller than Simms Pharmaceutical. They focus primarily on devices.”

  “Devices?”

  “Yes. Medical devices. Most of their things are generic forms of something that was invented by another company. They wait for patents to expire and then get a copy to market quickly. I have heard Meredith Ball is trying to become more of an innovator. She’s been hiring more scientists to research new devices and there’s been talk of them branching out into pharmaceuticals.”

  “And they fund the clinic?”

  “Yes, some funding but also in-kind donations. Devices, supplies, even things as simple as bandages. They can donate them for a fraction of the cost that we could purchase them at and they’re able to write it off as a deduction.”

  “Do you know what their plans for expansion are?”

  “I don’t know much detail. I’ve just heard talk about them entering the pharmaceutical field.”

  He led her toward the bar where they waited in line to order drinks.

  “And William Tyvek?” Jarrod asked.

  Before she could answer, a space opened up in front of them and Jarrod pulled her through to the bar. He looked at her expectantly.

  “Just a white wine, please.”

  Jarrod turned to the bartender, dropping a five-dollar bill in the tip jar. “A white wine and a Coke, please.”

  She smiled at his choice of a Coke. She supposed he was on duty. The thought stopped her smile. Yes. He was. He was here grilling her as part of his job. She should remember that.

  “Chardonnay or pinot grigio?” The bartender asked and Jarrod deferred to her.

  “Pinot is fine, thank you.”

  They collected their drinks and walked to the side of the room, choosing a spot that allowed them to see much of the large room. Carrie picked up the conversation where they’d left off as she sipped her wine. “There’s William Tyvek,” she said, pointing toward the silver-haired man. “See him in the corner there?”

  Jarrod nodded, sipping his soda. “Do Tyvek Technologies and Simms Pharmaceutical work together?”

  She shook her head. “No, not as far as I know. In fact, I don’t think her father was all that happy that she married his competition. I don’t think Warrick and William got along very well.”

  “And Victoria died in a car accident?”

  Jarrod studied the woman next to him. About ten minutes ago, he’d made the decision to look at her solely from the neck up. Anything else was too damned distracting. She’d stunned the hell out of him when he saw the backless shimmering blue gown she wore. He had no idea what you called the material, but it sparkled under the lights and fell in a pool on the floor around her. He’d ached to reach out and touch her bare back, knowing the skin would feel like silk itself. He’d done just that as they were dancing, and it had been a mistake. He was currently trying to talk his cock down from the full-blown hard-on she’d induced.

  He was messing around too damned close to a line he would never cross. He wasn’t that kind of cop and he wasn’t about to become one. So, neck up from this moment on, it was.

  It took some effort to snap his attention back to her when he realized she was answering his question about Victoria Tyvek.

  “Yes. She was driving late at night. They say she died instantly.” Her tone told him how sad she felt about the young woman’s death, and he could understand why. Victoria Staunton had been only thirty when she died. It was a tragic waste of a life that should have had many more years.


  He looked at Staunton and Tyvek. The men seemed to occupy opposite corners of the room. She read his thoughts. “Yes, I think they do that on purpose. Neither of the men were particularly fond of the other, but I think after Victoria’s death it was worse. They seem to avoid one another as much as they can. I mean, they’re forced to see each other a lot, but they almost seem to pretend there’s a wall there between them.”

  He watched as Meredith Ball approached William Tyvek and spoke with him, none of her previous flirty behavior present. She was joined by a man closer to Tyvek’s age than her own. The two instantly melted into the familiar pose of a couple with arms wrapped around one another’s waists as though the pose were second nature to them.

  “That’s Meredith’s husband, Edward.” Carrie looked up at him before glancing back to the couple. “I think he and William Tyvek are pretty close.”

  “Do they have a connection other than work and events like these?”

  Her brows came together. “You know, I think they do, now that you ask. I’m just not sure what it is. I’m sorry. I can ask around,” she offered.

  Jarrod shook his head, and realized he didn’t want her poking around anywhere near this case. It was bad enough her position at the shelter put her in the middle of this. “No.” It came out more harshly than he’d like, and he attempted to soften his tone. “I don’t want anyone focusing on you. If you start asking questions, you might draw attention from the wrong people on this case. Let me look into things, okay?”

  She didn’t seem concerned, but she nodded. He wanted to shake her to make her realize she needed to be concerned. Whoever was behind the deaths of these homeless men was heartless enough to be unconcerned with the lives of a population of people who couldn’t speak for themselves. Who were vulnerable, easy prey. The people behind this had killed Coleman in cold blood to cover their tracks, and Jarrod’s gut was telling him they weren’t finished. Not by a mile.

  He looked around the room and wondered what the men and women down at the shelter would think of all this. The room was over-the-top, dripping in luxury accents and overt demonstrations of wealth. The women wore jewels he would bet cost more than a month of his salary and he would also bet his tuxedo was the only rental in the place. Wait staff in pressed uniforms carried trays with the kind of itty-bitty hors d’oeuvres that couldn’t fill half his stomach if he ate three trays of them.

  He spotted Reggie McKinney, director of the homeless shelter, on the other side of the room speaking to a small group of people. The man looked as uncomfortable as Jarrod felt in these surroundings. He knew from his research that McKinney had been homeless himself for a couple of years, but that was more than a decade and a half ago. He had pulled himself together and gotten off the streets. He’d gone to work for the system that had helped him do that, eventually working his way up to director.

  Jarrod liked the guy from the little bit of interaction they’d had. He and Cal had both agreed, they needed to try to rule out Reggie and Carrie as potential suspects sooner rather than later. Neither had anything suspicious in the financials or backgrounds and the detectives hadn’t gotten the sense they were telling anything but the truth in their interviews, but they couldn’t ignore the fact those two were knee-deep in this mess.

  He got a closed off feeling from Warrick Staunton. He had the sense the man only let people see what he wanted them to, and wondered who in the room truly knew him. Jonathan Simms on the other hand seemed open and friendly with everybody who approached him. He had a feeling if the man didn’t have money he wouldn’t have a clue how to dress. Self-proclaimed geek was right. As it was, even with a custom-tailored suit and what was clearly an expensive haircut, the man had a way about him that just screamed scientist.

  William Tyvek had the look of a man who didn’t care who got in his way when he wanted something. It was as if everybody in the room was a potential pawn in his game, but there was something else behind his eyes, in his shoulders. It was the look of a man who’d been taken down a notch by loss. The loss of his daughter, no doubt. Jarrod knew he’d raised his daughter on his own. She was his only child. What did it do to a man to bear that pain?

  He watched Meredith and Edward Ball. She turned a warm smile to her husband, even though she’d been openly flirting with a younger man moments before. Jarrod couldn’t help but wonder what kind of husband puts up with that, but there appeared to be true closeness between them.

  “Well, hello there.” The voice was syrupy sweet and coy. Jarrod glanced to his right to find a smiling platinum blonde woman giving him the kind of look that told him he could take her home right then and there if he wanted to. He didn’t.

  He knew immediately her hair color came from a bottle. It lacked the depth of Carrie’s caramel blonde.

  He felt Carrie stiffen by his side, but she kept her smile in place. “Jarrod, this is Sabrina Holden.”

  “Hello.” Jarrod tried to put no more feeling into the word than necessary to be polite. He had no interest in leading the woman on. She apparently failed to notice. She laid a hand on his arm, sparing barely a glance for Carrie.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She drew the words out, as if delivering some treat for him, dripping in chocolate.

  He’d never liked sweets.

  “Uh, nice to meet you Sabrina.” Jarrod placed his hand on Carrie’s back again, moving closer to her.

  The blonde giggled.

  Jarrod looked at her for a minute trying to figure out what she was laughing at. He didn’t have a clue. “If you’ll excuse us,” he said, not offering anything more by way of excuse, and turned with Carrie to go.

  He saw Carrie stifle a laugh as he tugged her across the room and back out to the dance floor.

  “What was that?” He didn’t look back over his shoulder, but he didn’t have to. The blonde woman was still watching him. He could feel it.

  Carried laughed now, her hands resting easily on him, one on his upper arm, the other on his outstretched hand. He silently thanked his mom for those dancing lessons all those years ago. He felt out of place as it was. It would have been much worse if he couldn’t fake his way through a dance or two. Not making a fool of himself out here was worth every agonizing minute his mother had put him through.

  “That was Sabrina. I’d say she’s harmless, but I’m not honestly sure.” The teasing note in her tone felt too good. Too much like he and Carrie were a real couple. Everything about this felt too good and Jarrod cursed his partner for putting him up to this. He needed to get some distance here, and instead, with every touch of their bodies as they moved across the dance floor, he felt himself getting sucked further into Carrie.

  Carrie continued, unprompted. “Sabrina has a taste for handsome men. She collects them, although they don’t seem to stay on her shelf very long. I believe she’s on fiancé number four.”

  “She doesn’t marry them?”

  She shook her head. “Not a one.”

  “And who is the woman that’s been watching us the entire night?” He tilted his head toward what he’d describe as a power couple. The woman wore a black dress, the man a standard black tux, but they somehow stood out. Maybe it was the jewels around her neck. He’d swear some of the diamonds in the setting were as big as the top from a beer bottle. He didn’t know how many carats that would be, but he’d guess a lot.

  Carrie’s cheeks reddened and she rolled her eyes in a way he never would have thought she would. She seemed too refined for such a move. “My mother.”

  “Ah.” He grinned and turned her on the dance floor again, bringing himself around to look at the woman again. Yes. He could see the resemblance. She was a brunette, but the tall thin build was the same. “And she’s watching us because?”

  “Because she wants to know who the handsome stranger I’m dancing with is.” She said this breezily as if it were funny, but his arms tightened around her possessively. He had no idea why. “My mother knows every eligible man who’s ever set eyes on me.
She’s not-so-patiently waiting for grandkids. I suppose she wants to know why she doesn’t know you.” Carrie smiled at him, a glint of humor there.

  Jarrod returned the smile but it was stiff and forced and he could tell she saw that. Her face faltered for the slightest moment, before she covered it and began to scan the dance floor with a casual eye that was practiced.

  She probably thought he was reacting to the mention of kids. Didn’t women always assume men didn’t want to have kids? Sure, he had his hangups about whether he’d be a good dad someday or not. Who wouldn’t after seeing his dad run off and his brother screw up parenting so badly? But that wasn’t what was bugging him. It was the thought he might not be good enough for Carrie in her mother’s eyes.

  Jarrod itched to pull her tighter, to press her to him and close the maddening distance between their bodies as they moved. He wanted to bury his face in her hair and take in the incredible softly flowered scent that had been tantalizing and teasing all night. He wanted to find out if those lips of hers were really as soft and lush as they looked. If she’d moan and lean into him as his mouth connected with hers. What she would taste like and how she would feel.

  His mind fast forwarded to an image of them in bed, skin on skin, her long legs tangled with his. Her hair wrapped around his fist as he pulled her head back to expose her neck. He could all but hear the sounds he’d draw from her as he licked and teased at the soft skin of her neck.

  Christ.

  He swallowed a groan as the music came to an end. Their bodies stilled and for one small moment, he thought about playing out the fantasy. Jarrod stepped back, painfully aware he was close to putting on a pretty embarrassing show if he didn’t get this shit under control now.

  His mind never wandered like this. He was never this out of control of his thoughts, his actions. What the hell was happening to him?

  “Goodnight, Carrie,” he said and turned, leaving her looking more than a little shocked at his abrupt departure.

  He didn’t—no, couldn’t—care. It might feel like he was running like a teenager, but that wasn’t what was happening at all. He was leaving. Leaving like a man who wanted to keep his career intact. Like a man who knew better than to try to enter the world he’d just been faking it in for the past four hours. Carrie Hastings wasn’t for him.