13
LEONE
The trailer looks even shoddier in the evening light. Some other similar homes nearby have music or the yells of children reverberating through them, but this one is silent, the door still halfway off its hinges and swinging in a light breeze.
I can tell some people have been through it since the day before, a few belongings strewn through the high grass and various windows already busted out. I’m glad I left Zoey at home with Madge. She doesn’t need to see this.
Stepping from my car, I scan the area but don’t see anything unusual. Only a stray dog wandering between the trailers, probably looking for scraps.
Climbing the stairs, I step over a few more belongings–mostly clothing and a few kitchen odds and ends. The refrigerator is missing, and someone already scrawled their tag in spray paint on the front wall.
I ignore the mess and move toward the back of the trailer, toward the main bedroom. Xanny’s room. I can tell it’s hers from the smell of cheap perfume that some asshole decided to bust while they were looking for something to steal.
Stepping in, I glance around, then pop on my flashlight. It’s trashed, stripper clothes on the floor along with feathers–all the pillows in the room ripped apart. I can’t tell if the killer or a neighbor did it, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not looking for the obvious in here. If Xanny has secrets–and I’m certain she does–she’s going to hide them somewhere clever. Zoey’s made clear her sister is the slippery sort, and the fact that Xanny made off with Marvin’s cash is a testament to that fact.
I ignore the obvious and look deeper, training my flashlight on the wall and then scraping my foot along the floor to see what’s underneath the piles of tattered clothing. Nothing jumps out at me, so I glance in the closet, then turn away. Not there. Too easy.
“Where would you hide your most important secrets?” I mumble as I scan the walls again, then the floor. I pause when I see the glint of glass.
Kneeling, I push aside a busted dresser drawer and pick up a picture frame, the glass shattered, but the photo underneath still intact.
I stand for a while, just looking at Zoey’s face, her smile bright, exhilaration turning her skin a bright pink in the fading daylight. They must’ve just ridden the carnival’s Gravitron, because they’re standing in front of it, sisters arm in arm. Xanadu is in provocative clothing, but she wears them and a bright pink wig with an air of devil may care. Zoey is in an oversized kitten T-shirt and ripped jeans, her hair whipped up in a messy bun atop her head. She’s goddamn adorable. Even though it’s a photo, I can feel the love between them, the bond. Opposites, but drawn together all the same.
With a sigh, I shake off the busted frame and pocket the photo. That’s when a small piece of paper flutters from the back of the frame and lands at my feet.
I snatch up and shine the light on it. It’s a series of numbers, likely the key to a combination lock. Something tickles in the back of my mind, and I pull the photo from my pocket again.
Triumph curls my lips into a smile. There, to the right of the girls, is a series of lockboxes, a safe place for people to store their belongings while they ride the rides and see the sights.
I have to show this to Zoey. With any luck, I’ll be able to find those lock boxes. And with a whole lot more, whatever Xanny hid inside one of them is still there.
* * *
I sit on Zoey’s bed. She’s asleep, her breaths long and easy. Bentley is stretched out beside her, his eyes on me, and I don’t miss the way his claws slowly reveal themselves as he paws at the comforter.
“I’d never hurt her,” I whisper to him.
He doesn’t seem convinced; he only digs his claws deeper into the comforter, gaze still locked with mine. A real tough customer. I have to respect a creature like that.
“You’re back.” Zoey stretches, her body tantalizing beneath her T-shirt. No bra, and I’m hoping no panties either. My need for her kicks up a notch, and when visions of how she looked when I ate her pussy in the car dance in my head, I have to adjust myself.
She follows the movement and licks her lips.
Damn, she’s got me by the fucking balls, and I’m not even mad about it. I never expected to find her in that club, but I find myself giving silent thanks several times a day–hell, several times a minute–that I was there to save her.
“What’s wrong?” She leans forward and runs her fingers along my brow, smoothing away the wrinkles and my worries with a soft touch.
“Nothing.” I won’t lie to her. “I was just thinking how glad I am that I was there for you at the club, that’s all.”
“You saved me,” she says quietly. “No one’s ever bothered much with me, but you–you’re different.”
“So are you.” I cup her cheek. “You’re something special. I want you to believe that, little one.”
She smiles and presses her cheek against my palm. “When you say it, I do.”
“Good.” I lean closer, our mouths almost touching. “Because I don’t tell lies. Not to you.” I kiss her, tasting her sweet mouth as she clutches my shirt.
God, I need her. Just being away from her for a few hours was almost harrowing. She’s not a want. Not a desire. Ineedher. So I kiss her in such a way that she feels it too. How much I have to have her.