Friendly Warning: If you are allowing children to read this story, check the first scene of this chapter first.


Chapter 12

Con stepped up to Andrea's doorway, pressed the bell and started inspecting his fingernails. The door was opened seconds later, much quicker than he was expecting. It made him jump. "Why does this woman make me so nervous? Pull yourself together, Riley!"

"Forget something?" Andrea asked.

"My badge, on the bedside table. I'll just get it and be out of your hair." He loitered until she moved away from the door to allow him entry. As he stepped into the entranceway, Rebel bounded forward to greet him and he spent a few seconds crouched and giving him a rub down. "Yeah, I miss you too, pal," he said. When he stood upright again, Andrea was still there, standing at the foot of the stairs, practically barring his way.

"Vanessa?" she asked.

"Dropped her off at the front of Frank's building, she's okay." He hooked his thumbs into his waistband.

She shuffled her feet a couple of times uncomfortably. "Erm…I feel I owe you an apology."

"Apology ?"

"For being wrong about you. You're not the oversized lug I thought you were."

Con shrugged. "Can't say I blame you, I do have lug-like qualities. I've done an awful lot of lugging in my time. I lug here, and I lug there, always been a lugger. I love the thrill of a good lug. Lug is my middle name…Con 'Lug' Riley, that's what they call me. Isn't that right, Rebel?"

"You talk too much."

"And you're judgemental."

He had volleyed his slur right back at her, barely thinking, a reactionary throwback. He was not prepared this time to let Andrea get the upper hand where the implied insults were concerned. He had helped out enough not to deserve it, and he had just about had his fill trying to make friends, having to duck the glares, barely disguised insinuations and attempts at undermining his doggy regimes.

Her eyes narrowed and she inspected him up and down. "You have no dress sense, either," she continued, childishly.

His head tipped to one side. "What's going on?" he wondered. Nevertheless, he set his puzzlement aside and opted to continue, too heated to be able to stop now: "Woman – you are way too vain to be pointing the finger."

She gasped, "You're sexist."

"And? You hate men!"

Her hands went to her waist and she grimaced as Con smirked, knowing he had back footed her.

"I don't—" she began before catching herself. "You're over protective!"

"You hold grudges!"

"You're clumsy!"

"You never back down!"

"You have to be the boss!"

Con grunted, his mouth twisting into a sneer. "You can talk…you could boss for America. In this household, it's your way or the highway." He made a sardonic and large circular motion with his arm to encompass the whole house. "And then when you do compromise, it's only really to your own advantage."

Andrea's mouth dropped open and an incredulous look passed across her face. She stalked across the hallway and Con readied himself for the oncoming attack, hands coming out protectively. Halting, she grabbed and twisted his shirtfront to yank him down, her lips a tight white line. "You're no gentleman," she spat, only an inch separating their faces now.

He braced, preventing her from pulling him any further and indicated to her fists. "Yeah? Well apparently you're no lady either, so I guess that makes us just about even."

There was a short pause in proceedings as they nailed one other with equally ferocious glares before they were simultaneously grabbing, mauling, ripping and kissing, hard and fast.

Con was unsure how it happened, or who started it, but one minute his shirt was on, the next it was gone and somewhere on the floor along with several buttons. He leaned into her, his weight causing Andrea to stagger and she took him with her, both colliding into the wall.

"Brute!" she muttered and smiled suggestively, daringly.

So he called her dare and yanked her top out from around her waistband and pulled it up. Andrea raised her arms high as he peeled it free of her body to cast it aside along with his shirt. His large palms moved to her face and held her steady as they breathlessly kissed again, his fingers burrowing into her hair and feeling her hands roving all over the dip of his back leaving scorch marks .

A tightness was rising in his belly and his lips were tingling, making him light-headed and giddy and hot, all sense of the here and now evaporating. The only awareness being that unobtainable and beautiful blonde woman in front of him and in his arms – the one he had been desiring for so long, the one that drove him crazy, the one he just could not walk away from…the one who was now pressing up against him every bit as hard as he was her. "It had been a long long time…too damn long!"

"Wait…wait…" she gasped out finally, slicing through the haze. One arm slithered around to his front and a palm laid itself on his chest to push. There was nowhere for her to retreat to as she was still sandwiched between him and the wall.

He did not let go of her face, but he did step back. Pinning her with teasing hazel eyes, he raised an uncharacteristically cocky eyebrow. "You can't stop bossing, can you, not even for an instant?"

She batted his hands away and started exploring his chest and midriff. "Shut up, you lug. I want to see what you've been hiding under all those baggy shirts – have you been working out?"

"Fen's very encouraging."

"Thank God for Fenton Hardy."

"Don't you ever just relax, woman?"

"It's hard to relax around you detectives. You men are dangerous to know."

"And don't you women just love it?!"

She laughed and he dropped to physically lift her off her feet. Being smaller than her lofty daughter, Andrea weighed very little, even less when her jeaned legs wrapped themselves around his middle. He headed down the hall with her; the only other accompaniment being her fervent unfathomable whisperings, punctuated with kisses and nibbles against his lips, face and neck – Rebel had taken the hint and made himself scarce.

As Con mounted the stairs, the thought did not even enter his head as to how they were going to explain this to Vanessa and Joe. Right at that moment, as he was throwing her onto the bed, he was so hungry that he could not have cared any less if this lasted one morning or a lifetime. And neither apparently could she, illustrated by the way Andrea reached and dragged him yearningly down to his knees and began working on unfastening his belt buckle.

*****

Afterwards, as they were lying with limbs interwoven, staring at each other across the pillow and processing what had happened; Con smoothed a tendril of blonde hair away from Andrea's forehead and admitted, "I didn't really come back to get my badge, that was an excuse."

Andrea smiled. "I know you didn't. I'd already cleaned the room. I knew it wasn't here."

"Deceitful woman!"

"Manipulative man!" She scooted closer and kissed him softly again, searchingly, tasting.

Con felt like he had won the lottery – him, Con Riley, the rough, scruffy kid from the wrong side of the tracks had bagged himself the rich prom queen!

*****

The closer Frank's car took them toward the marina and Joe's houseboat, the further Vanessa felt herself slipping down in the passenger seat. Frank kept repeating that she need not worry, but her internal alarm system was a booming claxon, warning her that this was not going to be a smooth voyage on Captain Joe's ship.

Presently Frank was swinging his red Corvette convertible into an available space in the small parking lot next to the walled garden of the Marina's neighbouring property. He turned off the engine and turned to Vanessa. "You ready?"

"No."

"All-righty-then!" he said and climbed from the car.

Vanessa followed on after him around the vehicle and trotted to catch up, clutching her purse to her chest like a shield. But then she caught sight of the white envelope containing the damning photograph and blackmail note, clasped tightly in Frank's fingers and lost her nerve. She hooked onto his elbow and pulled him to a standstill, just short of entering the marina's entrance tunnel. "Wait!"

He turned in surprise.

"Not so fast."

"Van, stop stressing."

"Just let me—"

"Okay." He waited for her to collect herself.

She took a couple of purging breaths while staring at Frank's feet, and then finally nodded her acceptance of the inevitable. So they continued and made their way through the tunnel and came out onto the pier itself. Joe's boat was now fully in view, being the fifth moored on the left. There was no turning back now; Joe would be watching their approach every bit as clearly as they were viewing his houseboat. Nowhere to hide.

And she was right, as soon as they were pulling themselves up onto the deck, the front door was opening.

"You dudes took your time. I thought we were due to meet an hour ago. If I'd known you were going to be this late, me and Rufus-boy would have had a sleep in." Joe turned and jumped down the steps into the seating area and headed straight for the kitchenette before either of them had entered the boat fully.

Frank went first, Vanessa taking her time behind him, so much so that Frank glanced back to check that she was still there. But that quickest look told her something that Frank had managed to thus far internalise – there was just the slightest, miniscule hint of unease. Frank was not as confident as he had made out.

Joe was now at the refrigerator, taking out mini cans of Diet Coke.

"Bro," Frank said.

"Yeah, I know. I guess we're too late now to trail Mr Bale, so we're going to have to come up with an alternate plan. Everyone okay with a Coke? I've also got Dr Pepper, non-alco beer and—"

"Bro!" Frank said again, a little louder this time. "Never mind that, we need to talk to you."

Joe pulled his head out of the refrigerator and turned his attention fully on them. "What about?" Then his eyes fell on his girlfriend. "Van…Babes, you're white as a sheet!"

"I—"

But Frank talked across her, stepped deftly into the leader role and moved forward a couple of paces. "We have to show you something. But we need you to not jump to the wrong conclusions before you've heard us out. Yeah? Keep an open mind – don't fly off the handle. Okay?"

Joe frowned and swung the door shut before walking around the breakfast bar to approach them. "Okaaaay."

Frank ran his forefinger and thumb across the top of the envelope and then gave it a flick, drawing Joe's attention to it. "I'm going to show you something now, but what you're going to see isn't what appears to be happening. I need you to keep that thought in your head."

"Guys, you're starting to freak me out. What's going on?"

Vanessa was impressed with Frank's smoothly delivered lines and the way he was holding Joe's blue eyes in the firm gaze of his sincere brown ones.

"Look, Frank, just show me whatever it is. It can't be that bad!"

"Bro – it is that bad." Frank assured him and opened the envelope. Not breaking his gaze, he pulled out the picture. As opposed to how Vanessa had shown it, Frank turned it instantly around and held it up for Joe to see.

Joe looked at the picture, looked back up at Frank, across to Vanessa and then back at it. Then he staggered and his shoulders began to tense.

Frank turned to Vanessa. "Get out," he ordered.

"What?"

"Out, get out, now…move it!" He gave her a shove and she took to the steps, climbing two of them before, with a roar, Joe threw himself at his brother and propelled him across the room, the photograph and envelope sent fluttering into the air.