Desperate and Gorgeous Bk. 01 Ch. 03

She eventually said, "It looks like it was all entered."

Joe breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank god."

"We've got the pictures of the cars. Boy are they in rough shape. They'll need more than a hammer to get those dents out, eh?" She chuckled and wheezed to herself before continuing. "Toxicology reports are both in. It looks here like Miss James was driving past the gas pumps when the Cunningham woman backed into her way. James was clean, but it says here Cunningham was drinking. They really shouldn't let old drunks drive. And there are two witnesses here that saw Cunningham back out in front of James, cutting her off and causing the crash."

Joe turned to Moore, confused. "That's not what was in your notes. And you didn't mention any witnesses."

Moore looked at the woman and said, "That's not right. I spoke to the doctor myself. Cunningham was clean, James had cocaine and alcohol in her system."

"Cocaine? No, it doesn't say anything here about cocaine."

"What? Let me look." Joe moved in front of the woman's screen. "There's nothing here about drugs at all." Joe raised his voice and demanded, "What happened? Who has access to this?"

"You can calm down right now. Only Hank and I can edit the database, and there's nothing in here about any drugs." She lowered her glasses. "I can assure you this is accurate."

"Who's Hank?" he asked.

"He's a nice young man who handles the evidence with me. He was working last night. Oh, I hope he's okay." She suddenly looked concerned.

Joe said to the detective, "Bring him in."

The woman interrupted, holding a piece of paper in front of them. "Sign here and here to validate the overtime please."

The next few days were quiet around the house. I worked and cooked. The girls were uncomfortable with the living arrangements at first, but were getting used to it. I lost track of the number of times Leah apologized to her sister for leaving after the accident.

Brooke answered each time with a variation of, "Stop saying that. You're good. I would have done the same thing. I'm glad you left or we would both be fucked."

She was starting to move around better. There was less hobbling, or coasting from one piece of furniture to the next. "You're as bad as her. Don't look at me like that." She snapped at me once.

The truth was I was trying not to stare at Leah. Brooke was pretty. She shared Leah's naturally tanned complexion and dark hair which gave her an exotically attractive look. The bruise around her eye was fading. She often wore simple tee shirts and lounging clothes, and more than once I noticed she had a very nice chest, even if it was more modest than her sister's. She was fit, and her purple-streaked hair gave her an edginess. Brooke was attractive, and there was something about her directness that I liked. At any other time in my life I would have been more than happy to be with someone like her.

But each time Leah entered a room it was a record-scratch moment. I noticed. It was like the lights in the house went dim except for the ones near her. Background noise turned down, and my senses heightened. In the mornings she wore tight workout clothes and I started keeping to my side of the house whenever I heard music coming from the gym. During the day she looked like super models in photoshoots when they're pretending to relax at home, but they really spent three hours getting their hair and makeup done by a professional.

Her outfits always had just the right number of buttons undone to draw the eye but still be tasteful. Or a slit in a dress that came up high enough to make me forget what I was doing, but not enough to see underwear. In the evenings she wore skimpy pajamas and tight tops that showed plenty of bare skin, and shorts that did nothing to cover her toned legs and ass.

Then there were her eyes. They were a blazing, brilliant blue, in stark contrast to her dark hair and skin. When she focused on me I was floored. Brooke was pretty. Leah was devastatingly gorgeous.

She brushed against me when she didn't need to, and when she laughed she touched my arm. Sometimes she would bend to pick something up near me and I could see into her shirt, her bra holding perfect breasts. Where Brooke was straight-forward or even blunt at times, Leah flirted and seduced. I didn't know if it was just how she was, or if she was intentionally driving me crazy.

She was also fun to talk to and easy to get along with. Our nightly ritual started by watching TV and listening to her gossip about the actors. But by the end of each night she had somehow drawn stories out of me that I never meant to tell. I tried to hold back from casual physical contact. It was partly because I didn't want her to feel uncomfortable with our arrangement around Brooke, but also because my discomfort from the other night wouldn't leave me alone.

One night I made pasta and garlic bread for dinner. I started by scoring and boiling fresh tomatoes for a few seconds. Then I peeled and chopped them into pieces before letting them simmer in a pot on the stove. Onions, butter, garlic, and sugar went in next. Then fresh basil at the end for a simple, classic tomato sauce.

Leah sat at the table in a thin white tank top and matching white shorts. I could see a red bra through her top.

I smothered a few slices of crusty bread in butter and garlic and slid them in the oven. Then topped each slice with cheese and cooked it under the broiler for a few minutes until the cheese was melted and the edges were brown and crispy. When the pasta was almost done I drained it and let it finish cooking in the sauce.

"This is so good Matt." Leah said with her eyes closed, while I took the opportunity to appreciate how her chest looked in her tank top. "You should really think about opening a restaurant."

Brooke eyed her, "Dramatic much?"

A piece of ziti fell off Leah's fork and onto her top, a red smear appearing on the white cotton. "Shoot. I better get this in the wash before it stains." She stood and turned toward the laundry room. Just before she rounded the corner, she peeled her shirt off in one smooth motion. For a moment I was treated to a profile view of firm abs underscored by red panties peaking from her shorts, which rode low on her hips. The swells of the tops of her breasts looked soft and smooth in the matching red bra.

"Dude you've gotta get yourself together. You've been staring at her nonstop since I got here and it's getting creepy. She's always like this. Trust me when I tell you, you have no shot."

I ate the rest of my dinner in my room.

The next morning I got up early to work. Leah sat at the table. She wore a long-sleeved navy-blue pajama shirt that fell off one shoulder. A black bra strap was showing. Her laptop was open and her headphones were in. Brooke laid on the couch watching a movie. I smelled cinnamon and sugar and warm spices coming from the kitchen. The oven was on and a glass bowl of white frosting sat on the counter.

"How's your class going?" I asked Leah as I sat next to her.

She took her headphones out. "It's pretty interesting, actually. We're supposed to respond to this essay, 'The Impact of Gender in Research.' It talks about the effect the gender of the interviewer can have on the interview process."

"Oh wow. Sounds hard."

Brooke cleared her throat, loudly. "Watching something here."

"Sorry," I chuckled. "I didn't know you were such an Indy fan."

"Harrison does it for me, what can I say. Now hush."

"You two are on a first name basis huh?"

She glared at me in response.

Leah rolled her eyes. "I should check the oven anyway," she said, and went to the kitchen. I followed her so we wouldn't bother Brooke, but the kitchen and living room were one open space, so I didn't know how much it would help. She opened the oven and bent to look inside while I tried not to notice how nice her ass looked in those shorts.

"They found respondents answered differently to male and female researchers," she said as she pulled a tray out of the oven. A dozen cinnamon rolls lay curled in the muffin cups. Dark, sticky goodness oozed and bubbled between the layers.

"The study randomly assigned male and female interviewers with male and female respondents. The gender of the interviewer had more of an effect on younger respondents, and female interviewers had higher response rates." The puffy oven mitts looked comically large on her as she turned the muffin tray over. Chopped pecans speckled the tops of the sticky rolls.

One by one she picked the rolls up with small tongs and dipped them in the frosting before placing them back on the tray. "They did other studies too. Cover letters with female signatures also had higher response rates, and on phone interviews when people were given the option to request a gender for the interviewer, most picked female."

"I'll take one of these as compensation for your rudeness," Brooke said as she walked over to us and picked up a roll.

"Careful they're still hot," Leah said.

Brooke rolled her eyes and said, "Thanks Mom. Shit! Ouch!" Brooke dropped the roll back on the tray and sucked her finger. "You should warn people about these. Now I'm taking two for my trouble." She picked up two rolls and dropped them on a plate before quickly pulling her hand away and waving it in the air. "I'll be in my room since you two can't keep it down." She said as she walked into one of the guest rooms and shut the door behind her.

"That makes sense, I think. Men, especially young men, would rather talk to a woman. And I imagine women would be more neutral in their preference."

"Mmhmm," she agreed. "Okay, these are probably cool enough."

We each picked up a roll and touched them together in a silly salute. "Mmf. Oh yeah," I said around a mouthful. They were still hot, but not too hot to eat. It was a gooey, sweet burn. "This is the real deal."

Leah moved closer to me as we ate. "And you? Would you rather be interviewed by a man or woman?"

"Definitely a woman. There are worse ways to spend an afternoon than talking to a pretty girl."

"Who said anything about pretty?"

"This is my hypothetical, and I say she's pretty."

Leah took another bite. "What about me. How would you feel if I interviewed you?"

A dab of frosting was on her lip. I gestured for her to wipe it and she rubbed the wrong side. "Can you get it?"

"You?" I said as I wiped the frosting from the edge of her mouth with my index finger. I met her look and thought seriously about her question. "I would tell you anything you wanted to know. If you asked, I would give you the keys to the city."

Before I could pull my hand away to clean it, she reached for my wrist and held it in place. She looked up at me, and with our eyes locked together she slowly leaned forward and took my finger in her mouth. Her tongue bathed it, swirling and licking the frosting off. Without looking away she slid my finger out, and then back in. I was instantly rock hard.

"Mmm," she purred after she pulled off. "You're right, that is good." She picked up another roll. "The only problem with these is the texture. They can be too soft, almost mushy. That's why I added the nuts on top. But sometimes you just want something nice and firm in your mouth." She glanced down at my tented pants, then back up. "Got anything like that?"

Before I could answer I heard Brooke's door open.

Leah's eyes glittered. She lowered her voice to say, "That's a shame. Maybe we can do our own research later."

"You two are still in here talking about school?" Brooke asked as she walked by. She opened the refrigerator as Leah made her way back to the table. I stayed in the kitchen, hoping the counter would hide my erection.

"Matt's helping me with this assignment. It's pretty hard. He has some solid ideas, but he's too rigid. I tried to change his mind but he wouldn't bend, not even a little."

Brooke flopped back onto the couch. "Whatever, weirdos. If you're done chatting, the TV in my room is too small."

I adjusted myself and walked to my office, trying to hide my erection as best as I could. I noticed Leah smiling as I shuffled out of the room.

I had been working for a few hours when Brooke came in and sank into the couch, closing her eyes in relief. "You okay?" I asked.

"Fine." She snapped.

"Alright then," I turned back to my computer.

After a few minutes she said, "God, I'm bored. All Leah does is work out and study, and you're always in here doing... I don't even know what." She paused. "What are you doing?"

"Working."

"Yeah, got that. But what does that mean?"

I guessed it couldn't hurt. "We own businesses in the area, and they have income. Every day they record revenue in their books. We also have separate revenue from our other, off-the-record businesses. I mix our illegal revenue with the business' legitimate income, making it look like they're more profitable than they really are. Then the businesses kick out distributions to my employers. The cash is clean and everyone goes home happy."

"You know I came in here to be less bored right?"

"Hey, you asked."

She stared at the ceiling for a minute, chewing her lip. "Won't the feds see you mixing the two together?"

"That's why you have to find businesses that deal in cash. How would they know if a restaurant made five thousand dollars today or eight thousand if there are no credit card receipts? Casinos are great for that sort of thing, but they're monitored like crazy these days. So we stick to restaurants, food trucks, nail salons and the like. It's getting tougher and tougher each year to find cash businesses that have the volume we're looking for. Speaking of which, you're a part-owner of Delilah's now."

She raised her eyebrows at that.

"You didn't have enough reportable income on your own to justify paying a million dollar bond. So I made you an owner of a chain of nail salons."

"Thanks? I think? But won't your companies have to pay a lot more in taxes if you're inflating their income?"

She catches on quick. "Yes. But that's worth it if my employers can spend the money without getting arrested for tax fraud. Once it's taxed it's clean and in the clear. And the people who actually run the businesses don't know what's going on."

She stood up and made her way to where I sat at my desk. "Mind if I watch?"

"Not at all," I answered and pulled a chair over for her.

A few hours later I was finishing up and getting hungry for lunch. "That wasn't as lame as I thought it would be," Brooke said as we stood together.

When we stepped into the kitchen Leah was already there. The refrigerator was open and she was looking for something on the bottom shelf. She had just gotten out of the shower and was wrapped in a white towel. It would have barely been long enough to cover her ass if she was standing up straight. Bent over like she was, I clearly saw she was wearing a black thong.

I had to get out of the house. If for no other reason than to get some relief.

Later that afternoon I called into the living room where the girls were on the couch, "I'm heading out for a bit." Leah was by me in an instant.

"Are you sure that's wise? I thought we agreed it was not a good idea to leave the house yet," she said.

"I'm going to meet our friends that have been watching us."

Leah paused for a long moment, her eyes holding me in place. "You think it's safe?"

"I do. I'm bringing some guys with me, and I just want to talk. They won't be expecting me."

She turned over her shoulder to see if Brooke was coming before stepping in close to me, and looked up into my eyes. She smelled like caramel. "Remember that I, we, need you here in one piece. Without you, this all falls apart." She rose on her tip-toes and put her arms around my neck, molding her body into mine. Soft curves pressed on me. We shared a deep, meaningful kiss as my hardening cock rose against her stomach. She held my face in one hand and said, "Remember to think with this." With her other hand she slowly, softly, stroked my length through my pants. "And this. Before you do anything rash, think about what is waiting for you here, and make sure you come back in one piece." Then she turned and walked back into the living room, my eyes following her shapely ass until it disappeared.

I took a few deep breaths and stepped out into the rain.

Three SUVs pulled out of the driveway, black against the gray sky. They turned left onto the main road that ran by the guardhouse, kicking up water in their wake. A dark sedan came into view. It was parked on the side of the road. A cluster of small trees hid the car from most angles, but it had a clear view of the entrance to my property. As the SUVs approached, the sedan started its engine and the lights came on. At the same moment our larger vehicles swerved in coordination, one behind, in front, and alongside it, boxing it in.

I opened an umbrella as I approached the parked car. After two quick knocks the window rolled down, revealing two men sitting in the front seats. One tall and thin, the other stocky.

"Ugly weather for a drive," I said. They didn't respond.

"Alright straight to the point then. Why have you been watching my house the last few days?" Still nothing.

I nodded to Jack, who came over to the driver's window. Andy matched him on the other side. The strangers moved, reaching for something in their car. Jack and Andy were faster. They opened the doors and dragged them out, throwing them face down onto the wet pavement, before frisking them and taking their phones.

I crouched beside the fat one. "There's nobody around for miles. I can't have strangers keeping tabs on me and my friends. Either we have a pleasant conversation, or you disappear. There's no reason this can't be civil." I said calmly. "You're either with the Sanabrias...?" He gave no reaction and I nodded. "The Cuevas then." When I mentioned that name his face twitched. He tried to hide it. I motioned to Jack and Andy, who picked them up and deposited them into separate cars.

"What's your name?" I asked the skinny one as we pulled away from the sedan. One of my other men would move it to a discreet location. It was likely the police would be around at some point, and the fewer questions the better.

"Daniel." He was in a more conversational mood now that he was sitting by himself between two thick brawlers. He fidgeted in the seat. "Please, you know I can't say anything or they'll kill me."

I made a calming gesture with my hands. "I know, believe me, there's nothing to worry about. I just want to talk. The other night there was an accident on route one-ninety. Do you know anything about that?" He started visibly shaking, but didn't answer. I nodded to the man on his right who grabbed the back of Daniel's head and slammed it into his knee.

I heard a crunch and blood poured from his nose. "Oh fuck!" he gargled.

"Each time you don't answer, Daniel, something bad will happen. Now, what do you know about the accident?"

"Okay, okay, I was there!" he groaned, holding his broken nose in both hands. "We followed these two chicks over the border, they were carrying a huge load of blow. We were gonna take it for ourselves. But we didn't mean for that woman to get killed!"

"See, was that so hard? Alan, get him a towel. Here's the deal, Daniel. I want to talk to your bosses, and they'll want to talk to me. We have business to discuss. Nobody needs to get hurt, but you will take us there."

A few hours later I walked in the front door of my house, dripping wet. I left the umbrella in the car thinking the walk from the driveway to the front door wouldn't be too bad. Leah put down the book she was reading and sauntered over to me. "How did it go?"

"Pretty well, I think. At least, I hope. Are you hungry?"