Free Murder Takes a Dare: The First Marisa Adair Mystery Adventure (Marisa Adair Mysteries Book 1) by Jada Ryker

me,” snapped Althea, pushing away his hands. “If you’re here to pump me for details with which to titillate your audience of adoring fans, then you can just march right on back to your own room.” Althea lifted her chin in defiance, noticing although Clay was fully dressed, his suit was creased and his white shirt was rumpled.
    Clay’s grim lips unexpectedly curved into a slight smile. “My adoring fans? I didn’t think you cared enough about me to notice me and my activities.”
    Althea huffed, “It’s not as if I care what you do. It’s so obvious, I’d have to be blind not to notice.”
    “Notice what? That I’m polite and mind my manners with the other residents?” countered Clay mildly, raising his silver brows in gentle inquiry.
    “Do you think I’m a complete idiot? If a sociologist had been observing your deplorable behavior with the female residents, he’d publish a paper entitled ‘Mating Habits of Senior Citizens in Captivity’!”
    When Clay’s face stiffened and his gray eyes flashed in stormy anger, Althea feared she’d gone too far.
    Clay’s gravelly voice was taunt with simmering anger. “If being sociable with the other residents is a crime, then I plead guilty. It helps pass the interminable time for me, and enlivens my days in this God-forsaken place. However,” Clay leaned into her, meeting her wide eyes directly, “I have never laid a hand on any woman in this place. My heart belongs to another, and I’ll never settle for anyone but her.”
    In spite of herself, Althea was touched by the old-fashioned words. Clay must be in love with a deceased spouse or long-ago sweetheart, she thought. For some reason, the idea was depressing. Her grave face pale and translucent in the dim light, she met his eyes in tentative apology. “I’m sorry, Mr. Napier, if I jumped to conclusions.”
    Clay’s stern face relaxed slightly, but remained solemn. “Please call me Clay.” He looked around the deserted hall. “Let’s find a better place to talk.” As he handed her cane to her, he quirked a silver brow. “I’m assuming you’re not inviting me into your room.” He saw her chest rise in outrage, and hurried on before she could explode. “Perhaps a secluded corner of the common room will serve our purpose.”
    As the couple made their nearly noiseless way through the dimly lit, deserted corridor, the sharp tones of venomous anger shattered the quiet.
    Jolted, Althea glanced at Clay. He placed a silent finger to his lips.
    They moved to a door which stood slightly ajar, the light from the opening slanting across the tiled floor.
    “You’re a pathetic old woman and you’ve been a burden to me all of my life! You even kept me from getting what’s rightfully mine! Last year, when my father died, he left his pile of money to you, a woman he’d left in the dirt twenty-five years ago! He should have left it to me, his only remaining child! Now, you just lie here, day after day, while the bills for this hideously expensive place constantly eat away at my inheritance in greedy, horrendous chunks!”
    Clay lunged to the door, elbowing his way inside the room, with Althea close on his heels.
    The dark figure was bent over the hospital bed, his pudgy hands grasping the elderly woman’s shoulders and shaking her like a terrier with a chew toy. His bald crown and greasy ponytail gleaming in the overhead light, the round, middle-aged man swung around in surprise.
    Her eyes taking in the frightened eyes and pale face of the woman in the bed, Althea hurried to the terrified woman. A low snarl caused her to swing her head around. Althea blinked in shock. Clay Napier seemed to have grown a foot taller. His white head was thrown up and his strong chin jutted in sharp aggression. Poised for attack, his shoulders seemed wider under the rumpled jacket. Instead of an elderly man, he had morphed into a huge, silver jungle cat, his body ready to spring for the kill.
    As quietly as a hunting cheetah,