Riley Thorn and the Corpse in the Closet by Lucy Score
17
9:31 p.m., Saturday, August 15
“Ithink that went well,” Nick said from the passenger seat.
“Did we just come from the same family dinner?” Riley asked as she navigated his parents’ street. “I’m a money-grubbing psychic, and you’re a sleazy investigator with a wine buzz.”
“It’s easy to not care about what people think when you’ve been building a tolerance to it your entire life,” he explained.
“Huh. You might actually have a point there.” She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel and then let loose the question that had been on the tip of her tongue all night. “So you’ve really never been jealous before?”
He reached over and brushed her hair back from her face, capturing it at the nape of her neck. “Never. I don’t like it.”
She bit her lip and shot him a glance when she pulled up to a stop sign. “I kinda did. And I know that makes me sound like a seventh grader looking for drama. But it was nice to know how much you care.”
“You know how much I care, Thorn.” His voice was low and gravelly. “You’re a psychic, remember?”
“Don’t remind me. And just so you know, I don’t go spelunking in your head. Every once in a while, I might accidentally pick up on something. But I try to respect your privacy.”
“You do know how much I care, don’t you?” he repeated, his other hand sliding the skirt of her dress higher and higher.
“I have a rough idea.” Her voice sounded like she was being strangled. Only Nick Santiago could take her from pissed off to turned on in the span of ten seconds.
“Pull over there,” he said, nodding toward the dead end of the street before turning his attention back to the thigh he was exposing.
“We are not having sex in your parents’ neighborhood.”
His fingers tightened on her hair. “Pull over.”
“I used to make good decisions before I met you,” she complained as she took the right turn and parked in front of someone’s walled mini-estate.
His grin was lethal. “But you have a lot more fun now.”
She wanted to argue, but he was releasing her seatbelt and turning off the engine.
“You can’t be serious,” she whispered in the dark.
He guided her hand to his lap, where she found him hard. “Deadly. Do you know how many times we’ve been interrupted in the last week alone?”
“No.”
“Seventeen,” he said. “I counted.”
“How much testosterone do you have? We just got in a fight with your parents, and you had at least a bottle and a half of wine.” Not that she was complaining. A turned-on Nick was one of her favorite kinds of Nicks.
He dragged her across the console and eased his seat back to settle her on his lap. “You about done arguing yet?”
She nodded vigorously when he yanked her hips down to meet his. “Yep. All good.”
While he kissed the hell out of her, she felt him fumbling at the middle console. He managed to flip up the lid and produce four condoms.
Breaking the kiss, she eyed the birth control. “I find your level of sexual preparation impressive. But you can’t just expect me to climb aboard less than a block from your parents’ house.”
“You just picked a fight with my family to defend me, knowing that my mother will never forgive or forget. You, Riley ‘Tell Me Your Middle Name’ Thorn, are a badass. And it’s up to me to continue your badass training.”
She felt both appalled and proud of herself. “You’re a bad influence.”
“From where I’m sitting, I’m the best influence. Now, show me your sexy underwear.”
His argument was short yet convincing. Which was how she found herself with her boobs in his face when a bright light shined directly into her eyes through the fogged-up passenger window.
“Nick!” she hissed, dragging his head out of her cleavage and pointing at the light.
“Fucking great. We’re never having sex again. I just have to accept it.”
“Maybe you can worry about a life of celibacy after our arrest?” Riley suggested as she yanked the top of her dress up. He shoved the skirt down, covering his unzipped jeans and erection. It was a breathy moan that escaped her lips when he shifted under her.
“Not helping, Thorn,” he groaned. “This fucking excuse for a dress doesn’t have enough material. I forbid you from wearing it ever again. Unless it’s just the two of us and you want to end up ass up on the dining room table.”
“Forbid me?” she squeaked.
An official-sounding knock at the glass quickly tabled the argument.
Nick shoved her face into his neck. “Just be quiet and let me handle this.”
That was an order she was happy to follow. Riley burrowed closer as he lowered the window. “Can I help you, officer?”
Oh, God. Was public sex a misdemeanor or a felony? Did it count as public sex if there was no penetration? What was the sentence for almost-sex in a vehicle?
Riley decided it didn’t matter since she was going to die of humiliation right on the spot. The worst part? She’d die without Nick Santiago’s penis inside her.
“Evening,” a man said. “Got a call of a suspicious vehicle parked in the neighborhood.”
Riley hazarded a peek and saw the man in the window was in uniform. Jasmine was going to be so proud.
“What’s so suspicious about my vehicle?” Nick asked.
“Well, it could have been how hard it was rocking,” the officer mused. “You got some ID on you?”
“I do, but if I reach for it, I’m afraid you’re going to get an eyeful. I’m Nick Santiago. My parents live one street over.”
“No shit? Nicky Santiago? It’s me! Tommy Hobart.”
“Tommy? Hey! How you been?”
“Real good. Got this neighborhood security gig. Get to drive around in a golf cart. Me and the boys are heading to Atlantic City next weekend. You wanna come? How’s your sister? She still hot? Man, this is just like old times.”
Riley decided being a badass did not include having almost-sex in front of an audience while making small talk. She bit Nick on the neck.
His fingers jabbed into her butt cheeks in response. “Ah, hey, listen,” he said. “What are the chances of you letting me off with a warning?”
Tommy guffawed. “Pretty damn good, seein’ as that’s the only thing security is allowed to do. Well, that and call the cops.”
Riley tensed, then felt his hard-on flex against her. There was something profoundly wrong with his hormones, she decided.
“If it’s all right with you, Tommy, I’m going to take my girlfriend home.”
“Girlfriend?” Tommy scoffed. “No fuckin’ way.”
“It’s true,” Nick said, patting her on the ass. “I didn’t stand a chance.”
“Never thought I’d see the day when Nicky Santiago settles down. I’m Tommy, by the way. Nick and I went to high school together.”
The guard shoved his hand through the open window into Riley’s face.
For fuck’s sake.
She sat up, accidentally smacked her head on the roof, then took the offered hand. “Nice to meet you, Tommy. I’m Riley.” Indecent exposer and local psychic, she added silently.
Tommy’s eyes got rather large, and Riley noticed they were on her rack. Nick noticed too and tried to yank up the fabric.
“You got good taste, Nicky,” Tommy decided. “Now, Riley. Is that with an ‘I-E’?” It looked like he was asking her breasts.
“Just an ‘I’,” Nick answered for them.
Tommy flipped open a notebook and started writing.
“What’s that for?” she asked.
“It’s for the neighborhood security blotter. Got a newsletter that goes out every week so our hoity-toity residents know we’re earning our keep.”
Great. Just freaking great.
