Page 24 of The Woman at the Funeral (Costa Family #11)

Nico

I would never forgive Matt for making me doubt myself, making me question my instincts.

It was only natural, if I were being logical about it.

I mean, you couldn’t spend time with someone who was compiling a dossier on you and your entire family with the sole intention of selling it to the highest bidder, who would use that information to pick us all off, one by one, and not think your gut wasn’t working right.

But when I was invited into Ronny’s home, surrounded by familiar knick-knacks, the walls lined with memories, the whole house having a scent I’d always associated with a large chunk of my childhood: orange cleaner, wood polish, and the slightest hint of cigarettes that Ronny claimed she gave up when she was pregnant with Matt, but still reached for occasionally—often while half-leaning out the bathroom window so no one would know—I was finding it hard to read the woman who’d been like a stand-in mother for me when mine had passed.

Was she jumpy because she’d been up all night crying, or did she know something? Were her eyes shifty, or was she just distracted by the images of her son on the wall behind me?

“I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon,” she said, leading me through to the tiny kitchen and waving me over toward the scuffed table. I couldn’t help but wonder if she ever found the spot underneath the table where Matt and I had scratched our names.

I wasn’t prepared for the wave of nostalgia, followed by the grief. Not necessarily for Matt’s death this time. But for whatever broke between those two young, carefree kids, to destroy our bond enough for him to plot my murder.

Had I done something to prompt the rift?

Or had life just turned him ugly, selfish, evil?

They were questions I would never have answers to. The only person who had them was dead.

“I’m actually here with a request,” I said. Again, did Ronny actually tense, or was I looking for things that weren’t there?

“I already paid for the grave marker,” she said.

“Oh, no. That’s not it. I was wondering if you had Matt’s laptop.”

“His laptop?” she asked, brows scrunching. “Why?”

Was that a normal amount of curiosity, or was it pure suspicion?

Fuck.

I was losing it.

I needed to get my head on right.

Without thinking, I started, “I ran into Blair—”

“ That woman,” Ronny sniffed. Her chin jerked up. “Always walking around like this. Too good for everybody. All Matt did was complain about how much she was always nagging him. Don’t know why he stayed with her when she made him so miserable.”

I choked back the urge to jump to Blair’s defense.

I could still smell her sweet skin, taste her on my tongue, could still feel how fucking world-changing it felt to be deep inside her.

But this was not the time or place to defend her. If I wanted Ronny to talk, I had to not put her on the two of us at odds.

“He must have had reasons to stay,” I reasoned.

“You know Matt. He was too nice to tell her he couldn’t stand her anymore.”

A strange growl moved up my throat, and I had to cough to cover it.

“Here. Have a soda,” Ronny said, dipping into the fridge to grab me one. “It’s the air in here, so dry. But me and mine, we’re thinking of moving. Get somewhere warm and sunny. Away from the noise.”

Suspicion had me wondering if it was just Matt’s father’s retirement finally. Or if they thought they might come into money some other way.

“The whole family?” I asked.

“Yeah. Danny might have to hang behind for a few more months. Probation. But the rest of us, we’re moving on. Get a nice house on the beach.”

As far as I knew, there was nowhere in the country where you could get beachfront property without dropping a mint. And Ronny and her family? They never had two nickels to rub together.

I tamped down my anger and forced a smile.

“If anyone deserves an easier life, it’s all of you.”

“Exactly,” she agreed. “The city just isn’t the same without Matt.” That emotion, at least, seemed genuine. “So what did that bitch have to say?”

“Oh, we were just talking about her wedding, and she mentioned all of the images were on Matt’s laptop. She wanted access to them.”

“Why, so she can post about it on that hoity-toity blog of hers? Get all kinds of sympathy for the husband she treated like dirt?” Ronny rummaged around in a drawer, reaching into the back to pull out a pack of smokes, then leaning down to light it with the stove flame.

She moved over toward the window, cranking it open, and blowing the smoke out.

“Anyway, Matt’s laptop wasn’t there. I thought that ice princess stole it and hid it. ”

She couldn’t steal something that, technically, belonged more to her than Matt’s mother. But that wasn’t going to help, so I kept it to myself.

“We looked all over for it. And his phone. And his tablet. I know he had them. Seen them with my own two eyes. But they were nowhere to be found.”

I was relatively sure that was honest. She was irritated about it, flicking ash carelessly into the sink.

We shared some more small talk that she kept circling back to Blair, which only managed to piss me off until I had to fake a phone call and leave.

I wanted to take a walk to calm myself down.

But being on the streets any longer than absolutely necessary was not a good idea until we found Matt’s laptop, tablet, or phone, and could figure out who he might have been in contact with.

So I dipped into a cab and headed back to the safe house.

Then I walked in.

And she’d been standing there in an uncharacteristically dressed-down black romper with a couple of white buttons down the front. Judging by the thin straps—and the way the material teased over the swells of her breasts—she wasn’t wearing a bra under it.

Suddenly, the perfect way to get rid of the tension coiled in my gut came to me.

I was across the room in seconds, my hand grabbing the back of her neck, and my lips crashing down on hers.

There was no hesitation as her hands rose to grab my forearms, then slid up to wrap around my neck.

Her lips were hungry on mine, tongue teasing, teeth nipping.

Turning her, I slammed her back against the wall, swallowing her moan, enjoying my lack of control.

Well, there was certainly more where that came from.

My hands moved out, grabbing the straps of her romper and dragging it down.

In one motion, she was naked, save for a barely-there pair of nude panties.

My hand glided down the curve of her hip, then slid into her panties.

“So wet for me already,” I murmured against her lips, getting a throaty moan in response as my thumb found her clit, then two fingers slid into her tight pussy.

Her head fell back, slamming into the wall, exposing that pretty neck of hers.

I leaned in, tracing up her throat with my tongue, then sucking the skin over her pulse point as I started to fuck her with my fingers.

“Tell me what you want,” I demanded, teeth nipping her earlobe, feeling her pussy tighten around my fingers in response. “Do you want me on my knees, face buried in your sweet pussy, or—”

I broke off at the pained sound that escaped her.

“I want you inside me,” she said, voice deep with need. “Now, please,” she cried, her need stripping me bare.

Before I could even start to give her what she needed, her guilty hands were working my belt free, then undoing my button and zip, before reaching inside to grab my cock and stroke me. Once, twice.

A groan escaped me as I reached for my wallet, pulling out a condom.

She whimpered as she lost my fingers.

But as soon as we were protected and my cock rubbed up her cleft, she lost all her objections.

“Tell me again,” I demanded as she rocked shamelessly against me. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” she said, hands grabbing my ass, trying to force me downward.

“No, that’s not what you said.”

Her little whimper went right to my cock.

“I want you inside me. Now,” she said, wrapping her leg around my hip, opening herself up to me.

“Like this?” I asked, slamming deep inside her with one hard thrust.

She gasped my name like a lifeline, and God help me, I clung to it like one.

“Y…yes,” she cried, her thighs shaking.

I didn’t think. I reacted. Muscle, heat, instinct.

It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t slow. It was both of us coming undone together.

Her moans were coming—loud and desperate—with each hard thrust.

“You’re taking me so fucking good,” I groaned against her ear.

“That’s it,” I said as she tightened around me, getting close.

I pulled back, watching her face—her dark eyes heavy with need, her cheeks flushed, her lips plump from mine.

“No, open your eyes,” I demanded. “I want to watch you as you come for me.”

A desperate gasp escaped her as her whole body tightened.

“That’s it. Let me feel you squeeze my cock.”

Then she did, crying out my name as she came, her whole body shuddering with the intensity of it.

I fucked her through it before slamming deep and coming too.

She clung to me afterward, her breath coming in sharp, frantic gasps.

“You okay?” I murmured when I finally came back to my own mind, realizing how rough I’d been with her, how out of control.

She managed a tight little nod, her body racked with aftershocks.

“You sure?” I asked, slipping backward to tilt her chin up to watch her face.

Her eyes fluttered open. And all I saw was pure, raw vulnerability. Just for a split second. Then it was gone as her gaze slid away. She gave me another nod, then buried her face in my neck, clinging to me with her arms and the leg still wrapped around me.

Something inside me tugged at her softness.

Reaching down, I lifted her up into my arms, then turned and carried her to the couch.

I dropped down, holding her across my lap, my hands gliding over her soft skin.

“Was that too much?” I asked, worried I’d fucked things up by being so careless with her.

“No,” she whispered. Then, as if to reassure me, she leaned in to press a little kiss to my neck. “I think we both needed that.”

“Well, I know why I did,” I said, getting a little laugh out of her. “Why did you?”

“I got a little too in my head today,” she admitted, but didn’t seem to want to elaborate beyond that. “Can’t think at all now,” she added.

Was the smile that tugged at my lips smug? Yeah. But, clearly, I’d earned it.

Whatever I’d been about to say fell away at the sound of Goya scratching and whining at the door.

“Looks like we need to take him for a walk before heading off to Zen’s place.”

“I can come?” she asked, hopeful.

“Of course. You get dressed. I’ll be right back.”

I pushed her off my lap, then made my way into the bathroom to clean up and get myself sorted.

When I made it back out, she was dressed, had her bag on her shoulder, and was reaching to click Goya’s leash on.

“Do I need anything else?” she asked, looking toward her.

“Only if you want it. I’ve got us covered,” I told her, flashing my holster and gun.

She nodded and left her gun.

Like she completely trusted me to take care of her.

It wasn’t something that came naturally to her after everything she’d been through with Matt.

I would move fucking heaven and earth to prove I was worthy of that trust.