"What are you doing?" Tom asked.

"Coming to bed."

Dammit. "I figured you'd want to try to write or something."

"I can't. I'm too blasted worried about Nevvie. I really wish we could have talked to her again tonight."

"They're fine, I'm sure." He tried to return to his book, but Tyler stripped and crawled up the bed to lie next to him.

"What?" Tom grumbled.

Tyler dove under the sheet. Before Tom could stop him, Tyler had his cock in his mouth and had started sucking.

Tom started to protest, to push him away, but then Tyler slipped a hand between his legs and started playing with his ass, too.

All resistance melted from Tom's body. He dropped his book off the bed and closed his eyes as his hands found Tyler's head under the sheet. "That's so good."

Tyler, his mouth full, didn't answer. Instead, he took that as encouragement to do more. He played with Tom's sac with his other hand, running his tongue up and down Tom's cock, over his balls, down his taint, to his ass, and back again.

Tom flexed his hips, urging Tyler to take him deeper, not to stop. He didn't even try to hold back, and within a couple of minutes, he softly groaned as his balls exploded and filled Tyler's mouth with his seed.

As he lay there catching his breath, Tyler rose up on his arms. "Better, love?"

Tom smiled. "You're sneaky, Evil Genius. You know that?"

"I've never denied it." He kissed Tom, deeply. He could taste his own juices on Tyler's tongue.

He rolled on top of Tyler. "How about I return the favor?" He went down on Tyler, sucking and licking, savoring the feel and taste of his lover's cock against his tongue. He'd never had a problem going down on Tyler. It was one of his favorite things to do, and he loved how much pleasure he could give to his guy.

Tyler lightly raked his fingers through Tom's hair. "Yes, love," he whispered. "Like that. Just like that."

Tom knew exactly how to bring Tyler's body up to a heated boil. When he deep-throated him, Tyler groaned. His cock tightened and hardened in Tom's mouth. That's when Tom pressed a finger against Tyler's rim, and his lover fell over the edge. Hot jets of cum rolled down Tom's throat as he swallowed every drop.

Tyler's body went limp and he closed his eyes. "I do believe we've been randier than we have in a long time these past few days, love."

Tom chuckled and rejoined Tyler. "Well, we've been under a lot of stress." He pulled Tyler close after turning off the bedside lamp. "Nothing spells stress-reducer like C-L-I-M-A-X."

"I suppose you're right. I miss our angel, though. She sounded so sad on the phone."

"I know. We'll be up there with her soon." He kissed Ty. "Just try to go to sleep. We've got a long day ahead of us." The plan was to go with John over to their house and try to salvage as much as they could.

"I'll do what I can to help, but you know I'm not good with my hands."

Tom snorted. "You're very good with your hands. Unfortunately, the way you're good with your hands isn't helpful outside of bed sometimes."

Chapter Nine.

Nevvie had taken some comfort from Tyler's phone call, but since then, she'd still been unable to call them, and hadn't received any other calls or texts from them. She suspected they still weren't receiving any of her text messages, either.

She shared her frustration over the phone with her friend, Sarah, who lived in Mitchell, South Dakota. They'd met her and her two men, Del and John, when Tyler accidentally left Nevvie and Andrew behind during their RV adventure.

"I'm not trying to play down the hurricane," Sarah said, "but let's go back to the Alex situation."

"Why? I really don't want to think about him." When Sarah didn't speak for a moment, Nevvie did. "What's wrong?"

"Remember how I told you about my little flashes?"

"Yeah?" Sarah had nearly lost her life to a serial killer, and the ghost of a little boy lived in their house.

Nevvie wouldn't have believed it except that Adam had seen and perfectly described Robbie.

"Just...just be careful, okay? Please?"

Goose bumps rippled Nevvie's flesh again. Sarah was also pregnant, due close to Christmas. "He can't find me here in Savannah," Nevvie insisted.

"That's what I thought when I went and hid out in Miami. Bastard had copied my address book when he towed my car. All I'm saying is don't let your guard down and trust your instincts, okay?"

"You're creeping me out."

"Better to be creeped out and on your guard than caught with your pants down, girlfriend. And you're always welcomed to come out here, you know. Hell, I'll show you how to shoot if you want me to."

"I let my dad talk me into skeet shooting. He's going to show me when he gets back up here."

"Good," Sarah said. "That makes me feel better."

Nevvie finally got off the phone with her. After trying to call Tom and Tyler again, she managed to get some sleep Sunday night, but awoke Monday morning feeling unrested and with a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Must be the weather. While Edgar's wrath had moved out to sea, they were still getting rain bands from the back side of the storm.

Apparently the weather and late-night weather watches had them all sleeping in. She didn't hear Peggy up and around until after seven. Nevvie gave up trying to go back to sleep around seven thirty and went to the kitchen, where Peggy had already started her morning breakfast preparations.

That, if nothing else, would make Nevvie feel better. She sat there drinking coffee and talking with Peggy while she worked, having refused Nevvie's offers to help.

"What on earth?" Nevvie looked up at Peggy's tone. Peggy stood at the kitchen window, staring out at the yard.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know, sugar. But it can't be good."

Nevvie stood to join her. A sheriff's cruiser had pulled into the yard, along with another car that had to be an unmarked unit. A plainclothes officer stepped out of the unmarked car, while a uniformed deputy emerged from the cruiser.

The women rushed to the front door and opened it as the officers stepped onto the porch and shook the rain off their jackets.

The plainclothes officer showed ID and his badge. "I'm Detective Platt," he said. "Are you Peggy Kinsey?"

Nevvie didn't like the way Peggy's face paled. "Yes?"

"Do you know a Clay Brennan?"

"Yes. He's my son-in-law. Well, ex-son-in-law. Why?"

"Do you know his whereabouts this morning, ma'am?"

Nevvie stepped in. "He's inside, with his kids. What's going on?"

"We need to talk to him, ma'am."

By this time, Clay and Andrew were both standing in the doorway. "Peggy, is everything all right?" Andrew asked.

"These officers are here to see Clay," Peggy said. Nevvie didn't like the way Peggy's voice sounded weak.

Clay stepped out. "Can I help you?"

"You're Clay Brennan?" the detective asked.

"Yes?"

"Sir, we need to know your whereabouts last night, around eight o'clock."

"He was here," Peggy said. "He and the twins spent the night again."

"Sir?" the detective repeated.

Clay nodded. "Mom wanted us here to stay here. The storm knocked out the electricity at our apartment complex and they haven't got it back on yet. Look, what's going on?"

The two officers exchanged a glance. "You've been here all night?"

"Yes. Everyone saw me. What's going on?"

"You didn't leave? Can you prove you were here all night?"

With a mixture of anger and exasperation, he pointed to his car, which was parked closest to the house and penned in by Danny, Elle, and Nevvie's cars. "I couldn't leave here without someone knowing. The twins and Nevvie have me blocked in."

The detective's expression softened. "We need to talk to you about your ex-wife, Mr. Brennan."

"Emily?" Peggy said. "What happened?"

Nevvie noticed the twins now stood in the doorway, holding on to each other.

"I'm sorry to have to inform you of this, but Emily Kinsey was murdered in her home sometime yesterday evening."

Nevvie and Andrew caught Peggy as she swayed on her feet. They helped her into the porch swing.

Clay looked sucker punched. "What?" he whispered.

The detective's voice gentled. "Her real estate agent found her early this morning when she arrived there to meet a prospective buyer for a showing."

"She's dead?" Danny asked. The twins had stepped out onto the porch, next to Clay.

Clay put his arms around them, still looking at the detective. "What happened? How?"

Nevvie didn't miss how the detective studied Clay's hands and lower arms, left bare by his T-shirt. "We have to wait for the official autopsy findings, but the evidence at the scene leads us to believe she was beaten to death."

Elle let out a soft sob.

"You think I did it?" Clay choked out. "We've been divorced going on two years. I left her, not the other way around. I would never hurt her."

"May I see your hands, Mr. Brennan?"

Trembling, Clay held them out. The detective inspected Clay's hands and arms. "No, you were just removed from our suspect list, sir. You have an alibi. Also, whoever did this apparently did it with their bare hands. They would also likely have defensive wounds, based on evidence we found." Clay, who spent every day at a computer terminal, had unblemished hands.

Nevvie, married to a writer who specialized in murder mysteries, suspected what the detective didn't say was that they'd found skin or blood under Emily's nails.

"Can we...can we see her?" he asked.

The detective grimly nodded. "We do need a positive ID." He studied Elle and Danny. Nevvie noticed how he also looked at their hands. "But frankly, she's-"

"I'll go," Nevvie firmly said as she stepped forward. "You stay here with the twins," she told Clay. She turned to the detective. "I'll go do it." A sick feeling had formed in her gut, and she suspected it had nothing to do with morning sickness or the unexpected news about Emily's murder.

She had to see her.

Had to.

"And you are, ma'am?"

"She was my sister-in-law."

In silence, Nevvie and Andrew followed Detective Platt through another band of driving rain to the county morgue. Despite her discomfort with law enforcement, she would do this. Had to do this.

Had to know.

The detective studied her as they waited for the coroner to meet with them in a waiting room. "What was your relationship to the victim again, Mrs. Paulson?"

"Kinsey-Paulson," she corrected. "My husband, Tom, is her brother." She caught herself. "Was," she softly said.

"And you are, sir?"

Andrew offered a wan smile. "It's complicated."