Читать книгу Killer Season - Lara Lacombe - Страница 13
ОглавлениеNate frowned as he pulled into the driveway of the small, old house. Fiona lived here? He glanced up and down the street, noting the lack of lights and the general air of abandonment. The homes in this part of town appeared to be decently maintained, but there was an overall feeling of neglect, as if this once prosperous neighborhood had been left behind.
“This is it?”
She nodded. “It was my parents’ house. I inherited it after my mom died.”
He noticed the omission of her father. Either he’d died long ago, or he hadn’t been in the picture. “How long have you lived here?”
“I grew up here, but I’ve only had it to myself for two years.”
Not that long, then. “You took care of your mom, didn’t you?”
Her head jerked up and she met his gaze for a moment, her eyes wide. Then she nodded. “How did you know?” she asked quietly.
He shrugged. “You seem like the type of person who takes on a lot of responsibilities.”
Fiona nodded, bowing her head to stare at her lap. Great. He’d upset her. Real smooth, Gallagher.
Searching for something, anything, to say to change the subject, he fired off another question. “Any problems in the neighborhood?”
Fiona frowned, and he realized he had entered into cop mode and was interrogating her. He smiled to soften the question. “I don’t see any streetlights, so I’m wondering if there have been any issues with burglary or vandalism.”
She shook her head, and he caught a whiff of her scent. Lemons, underlain by a soft sweetness that was appealing. He’d been too focused on keeping her safe before to really register her smell, but now it wrapped around him like a silk rope. He found himself leaning forward, wanting to get closer to the source.
“I haven’t heard of any problems, but I’m not around much. Between classes and work, I’m usually only here to sleep.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Sounds like my life.”
“Being a police officer must be pretty demanding.”
“It can be.”
An odd expression crossed her face, as if she wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words. He decided not to press her—she’d already had a rough night.
They were silent for a moment while Nate continued to study the house. It looked decent enough, he decided, even though the grass was a little long and the shutters could do with a fresh coat of paint. The garage door appeared to fit securely, and the front door looked solid. There were a few windows facing the front yard, and he wondered how many were in the back, and what the backyard looked like. Was there another house behind hers, or was it an easement? What kind of fence enclosed the property? Wood, or something easy to climb in a hurry, like chain link? Did she have a lock on the gate?
His musings were interrupted by the sound of Fiona clearing her throat. “I should probably head inside. I’m sure you’re tired and want to get home.”
“Let me walk you in.”
“Oh, no, that’s really okay,” she stammered, apparently taken aback by his offer.
“I insist,” he said, quietly but firmly. “You’ve had quite the adventure tonight, and I just want to check the house to make sure everything is okay.” When she paused, he smiled. “You’d be doing me a favor—I’ll sleep so much better knowing that you’re safe.”
She laughed, and the rich sound made his heart thump against his breastbone. “Fair enough,” she told him, opening the car door. “Truth be told, I’ll sleep better too, knowing you’ve gone through the house.”
He was pleased to see her pull a small flashlight from her bag as they walked up the front steps, and some of his worries eased when he saw she had two dead bolt locks securing her door. Of course, the bad guys could always come in through a window...
She flicked on a light as she walked in, illuminating the small living room. A floral-print couch sat along one wall, the middle sagging a bit from years of use. Crocheted doilies decorated the end tables and coffee table, and a faded recliner completed the tableau. The room had a preserved feel to it, as if Fiona hadn’t bothered to redecorate after inheriting the house. Or maybe she couldn’t bring herself to change it.
She gave him a shy smile as he completed his perusal. “It’s not much, but like I said, I grew up here.”
“No siblings?” It was something he’d meant to ask earlier after hearing about her mother, but he hadn’t wanted to upset her further.
“No. I was an only child. Mom was forty-five when she had me—I was a bit of a surprise.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but a thud from the next room interrupted him. Moving quickly, he drew his gun and pulled Fiona over to the front door. “Go wait in the car,” he whispered. “Lock the doors and get low.” He spied a portable phone on one of the end tables and grabbed it, pressing it into her hand. “Dial 911. Tell them there is an intruder in your house, and an officer is on the scene and requests backup.”
“Nate—”
“Go.” He ignored her as he pushed her through the door and closed it quietly behind her.
He moved through the living room and into the kitchen, clearing the small space before heading down the hall that presumably led to a bathroom and bedroom. It had been months since he’d had to draw his gun in the line of duty, and tonight he was holding it for the second time. What where the odds? He shook his head as he stepped softly down the hall. When it rains, it pours.
More important, though, why was Fiona in danger yet again? He didn’t believe in coincidences, and tonight’s activities made him think she was being targeted. But who would want to hurt her? She didn’t seem the type to have enemies, but then again, he didn’t know her all that well.
Yet.
He approached the doorway to the bedroom cautiously, focusing hard to pick up any stray sounds from the room. There was a soft rustle from somewhere within the room, faint at first, but then louder. It took him a few heartbeats to realize the noise was coming toward him.
“Don’t move,” he commanded. “Houston police. Come out with your hands up.”
The noise stopped, as if the source was considering his words. Then the sound started up again.
Nate moved back, retreating down the hall a few steps before assuming a shooting stance, his gun up and pointed at the doorway. He took a deep breath. “Last chance,” he warned. “Put your hands up or I will shoot.”
A high-pitched meow answered him, followed shortly by the appearance of a massive gray cat. The portly feline saw him and drew up short, clearly surprised to find an intruder in his home. Nate could only stare back, baffled. This was the source of the noise? Not a burglar but an overweight cat?
Feeling sheepish, Nate lowered his gun. The cat, deciding he was of no consequence, plopped down in the middle of the hall and began to lick his nether regions with a vigor that belied his size.
Holstering his weapon, Nate decided to check the bedroom, for form’s sake. He sidestepped the bathing feline and poked his head into Fiona’s bedroom, grateful, if mildly embarrassed, to find it empty.
Marshaling his pride, he returned to the front door and pulled it open to find Fiona, leaning against the doorjamb with a smile playing on her lips. “All good?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.
He swallowed, determined to remain serious. “Everything seems to be in order.”
She stepped past him into the house, treating him to another whiff of her lemony-sugar scent. “I take it you met Slinky?”
“Ah,” he hedged. That massive fur ball was named Slinky? “I met your cat, but I don’t know that I’d associate him with the word slinky. He seemed rather stocky to me.”
Fiona shot him a mock glare. “He’s just big boned. Besides, I named him when he was a kitten. He’d contort himself into such impossible positions—Mom and I got a real kick out of watching him play.”
The cat in question chose this moment to enter the living room, his belly swaying ponderously with each step. He rubbed against Nate’s legs on his way to Fiona, apparently forgiving him for the earlier intrusion. She knelt to scratch behind his ears, and the cat plopped down and rolled to his back, exposing his stomach for her touch. Fiona obliged, and he closed his eyes into slits of blissful appreciation, emitting a loud purr. Nate could sympathize—he wouldn’t mind having her hands on him, either.
He cleared his throat, trying to distract himself before he let that particular line of thought go too far. “Well. Everything seems to be in order here, so I’ll just head out.”
Fiona rose, offering him a shy smile. “You don’t have to go,” she said. His heart leaped into his throat—was she really offering what he thought she was offering?
A blush spread across her cheeks, and her eyes went wide. “Um, I mean,” she stammered, apparently recognizing her double entendre. “It’s late. You’re welcome to stay on the couch if you don’t want to drive home. That’s what I meant to say.”
He was tempted to take her up on the offer, but there was no way he would get any sleep on that lumpy couch knowing she was only a few feet away, warm and soft in her bed. Better for him to drive home, take a cold shower and come back tomorrow morning so he could take her back to her car.
“That’s a kind offer, but I think I’d better leave. Wouldn’t want to put you out.” Nate winked at her, which only deepened her blush from a soft pink to red. Something in his chest relaxed at the sight of her, and he felt a strong urge to pull her close and wrap his arms around her. He hadn’t meant to embarrass her, and he certainly didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable around him.
“What time should I pick you up in the morning?” he asked, hoping a change in subject would put her at ease.
“How about nine thirty? Or is that too early for a Saturday?”
“That’s perfect. I’ll see you then.” He smiled at her, studying her carefully for any sign of distress. She seemed to be okay, but he knew from experience that the shock of a traumatic experience sometimes took a few hours to set in. He didn’t want to leave her alone to process everything that had happened tonight, but at the same time, he didn’t want to crowd her.
Fiona walked him to the door. The dark circles under her eyes revealed her fatigue, but her expression was otherwise untroubled. Maybe her breakdown in the bathroom had been enough to release the stress from her attack. He hoped she was that lucky.
“Thank you again for everything you did tonight.” She laid her hand on his arm, and he felt the heat of her touch through his shirt. “You saved my life tonight. There’s no way I can repay you for that.” A sheen of tears formed across her eyes and she blinked hard, clearly determined not to cry.
His heart turned over in sympathy at the sight of her tears. “Shh,” Nate whispered, and pulled her close. He knew he shouldn’t hold her, but he couldn’t stand by and do nothing while she was upset.
He buried his nose in her hair, breathing deep. “You don’t ever have to thank me for tonight,” he said, keeping his voice low as he spoke in her ear. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
She nodded. “Me, too,” she whispered shakily.
He released her, holding her at arm’s length so he could meet her gaze. “You’re safe now. And I’ll make sure you stay that way. Trust me?”
“Okay.” She offered him a shy smile.
She leaned forward the barest inch, and he felt himself move in response. Her warm breath wafted across his chin, and the mood shifted, the air between them becoming heated and electric. She licked her lips, a subconscious invitation that hit him low in the belly.
His pulse thrummed in his fingertips as he reached up to cup her cheek, tilting her head so he could have better access to her mouth. Fiona closed her eyes at his touch, emitting a soft sigh that made him want to roar with satisfaction. He settled for bowing his head and running his lips across hers in a teasing caress that did nothing to bank his desire.
Fiona made an inarticulate sound of frustration, and Nate chuckled, happy to know she wanted this as much as he did. He ducked his head again, intending to kiss her properly, but Slinky apparently had other ideas. The cat butted him hard in the legs, making him sway on his feet and altering the angle of his approach. Before he could tilt his head, his nose smashed into Fiona’s, sending a spike of electric, white-hot pain into his brain.
“Ouch!” She pulled away from him, cupping her nose while she blinked back tears.
Nate massaged his own nose. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “Your cat caught me off guard.” He glared at the offending creature, who had wandered a few feet away and was batting at a stuffed mouse under the coffee table. “Guess he doesn’t like me very much.”
Fiona shook her head. “He just wants attention. He’s here alone most of the time, so when I get home, he knows it’s time to cuddle.”
Lucky bastard. Nate offered her a smile and nodded, refusing to acknowledge that he was jealous of a cat. “Well, I’d hate to make him wait any longer.”
“I suppose you’re right. It is pretty late.” Were his ears deceiving him, or did she sound disappointed?
He’d love to stay and find out, but he didn’t want to take things too fast. The woman had been attacked tonight—the last thing she needed was a horny cop sticking his tongue down her throat. Better for him to go while she still wanted him to stay. They could pick things up again later.
“Try to get some sleep tonight—or what’s left of it. I’m sure Slinky will be good company for you.”
That earned him a laugh. “He definitely will. Be careful getting home.”
“Yes, ma’am. Lock the door behind me.”
He waited until he heard the locks click before walking back to the car. He sat behind the wheel for a few moments while Fiona shut off the lights in the living room. A few seconds later, the light in her bedroom went on. He was half tempted to sit in her driveway all night and keep watch over her, but the logical side of his brain told him that was crossing the line. He barely knew her, for crying out loud! Sure, he felt curiously drawn to her; he had from the first time he’d seen her. And, yes, the more he learned about her, the more he wanted to know. But sleeping in his car was just a bit too stalkerish for his taste. Besides, if Fiona were to look outside her bedroom window and see a strange car in her driveway it would likely terrify her—definitely not something he wanted to do.
“Get a grip, Gallagher,” he muttered as he put the car in gear and backed out of her driveway. “You’re going to see her in a few hours.”
And he was going to count every minute until then.
* * *
Joey leaned against the cinder-block wall of the holding cell, trying to arrange his body into the least painful position possible. His shoulder hurt like hell—the drugs they’d given him at the hospital were starting to wear off, and the growing pain was making it hard to think.
“Can I get some meds to take with me? You know, for later?” he’d asked.
The nurse had merely rolled her eyes and shook her head.
Her reaction had pricked his temper, making him sit up a little straighter. “Hey, I’m a person, too! I deserve to be treated with a little respect!”
“How about you give him something to shut him up?” The big cop standing behind the nurse shot him a dirty look. “You’d be doing me a favor.”
The nurse gave him a smile as she turned to leave. “Wish I could help, but you know it doesn’t work that way.”
“Yeah, just my luck.” The cop watched her walk out of the room, his eyes glued to her backside until she was out of view.
Joey shook his head. “You’re pathetic,” he muttered.
“What was that?” The big man’s head swiveled around, and he fixed his gaze on Joey. “You got something to say to me, punk?” His eyes gleamed with anticipation in the fluorescent light, as if he was just looking for an excuse to get physical. Joey recognized the look. It was one he often saw before a fight broke out.
Part of him wanted to goad the other man. After all, a police officer would get into big trouble for beating up an unarmed, handcuffed, already injured man in his custody. But Joey was smart enough to know that the real world didn’t work that way. Cops protected their own, and if it came down to his word against the boys in blue, there would be no contest. And while he desperately wanted the satisfaction of mouthing off, it wasn’t worth the bruises. So, for the first time in his life, Joey listened to the voice in his head that told him to shut up. “Nah,” he replied, shaking his head. “Not to you.”
“That’s the first smart thing you’ve done all night,” the cop said, his tone smug.
He’d brought Joey back to the station then, and it had taken some time to get his mug shot and for them to finish all the paperwork. Then they’d led him to this cell and taken the cuffs off, leaving him alone for the first time in what felt like days.
The cinder-block wall was cool against his skin, and he pressed his forehead to it, appreciating the distraction from his aching shoulder. He was in a ton of trouble, but the impending charges of armed robbery and assault didn’t bother him. No, what scared him the most was his uncle’s reaction.
Uncle Sal was not a forgiving man. He ran Houston’s largest illegal gambling operation, and he’d acquired his power by combining sheer brutality with an astonishing lack of mercy. He didn’t offer credit, nor did he offer second chances. What he did offer was better payouts than the competition. It was enough of a temptation to keep people coming back for more, even though they lost more often than they won. And when they didn’t pay up? Usually a visit from one of Uncle Sal’s enforcers was motivation enough. Especially because the people who required a second visit never required anything again.
Joey shivered at the thought of his uncle’s face when he heard about this. It was enough to make him want to crawl under a rock and disappear, but that wasn’t an option.
He’d set out to rob the convenience store because the owner, Ben Carter, owed Uncle Sal. So far, the enforcers had been busy going after other clients, and Ben had escaped their attention. It was only a matter of time until they met with Ben, but in the meantime, Joey had seized the opportunity to prove himself to his uncle. He’d been dying to show that he could be an important part of the family business, and collecting on this debt would be a great way to start.
It was supposed to be a simple job. He’d go in, get the money and leave a message so Ben would realize what had happened. But everything had gone to hell, and now he was stuck here, trying to figure out how he was going to explain the situation to his uncle.
Maybe he could play dumb, he mused. Act like he didn’t know Ben was the owner of the store and that he’d done it for money. But no, Uncle Sal would be angry that Joey hadn’t come to him for help first. And he couldn’t pretend he was high. Sal would kill him if he thought there were drugs involved.
His best bet was to hope they threw him in jail long enough for his uncle to forget about him. Sal had a memory like an elephant, but out of sight, out of mind, right?
The jingle of keys interrupted his thoughts. “You got a visitor.”
Joey stood, certain he had misunderstood. “What?” No one knew he was in here, so who on earth would be trying to visit him?
“You heard me.” The cop sounded bored. “Approach the door, then turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
Joey did as he was told, wincing as the movement pulled the stitches in his shoulder. Cold metal circled his wrists, and he heard the click of the handcuffs locking into place. Then the guard opened the door and gestured him out.
His thoughts whirled as the man led him down a long hallway. Who was waiting for him? Not his mother—she’d been gone for years, off to who knew where. And his brother was in the army, trying to make a life for himself. His friends didn’t know he was here, and he definitely hadn’t called Uncle Sal. Maybe this was some kind of mistake?
They stopped in front of a white door, and the guard opened it and led him inside. He pushed Joey into a chair, then locked his cuffs to a ring on the table, effectively trapping him in place.
“Thank you, Officer. That will be all.”
Joey turned to find an older man standing in the far corner. He wore a dark suit with a crisp, white shirt and held a leather briefcase in his soft hand. He smelled like money, and Joey distrusted him on sight.
The guard frowned but stepped outside, shutting the door behind him. Moneybags moved to take the chair across from Joey, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he sat.
“Do you know who I am?”
Joey eyed him up and down, giving him the evil eye. Normally, that look was enough to make people uncomfortable, but this guy appeared immune to the implied threat. “No,” he said finally, injecting the word with as much contempt as he could muster.
“My name is Richard Beck. I am an attorney, and I am here to represent you.”
“Why?” Joey’s suspicion deepened. A sharp-dressed lawyer just happened to show up looking for him? No way. This was not a coincidence, and he wanted to know who was setting him up and why.
“It’s what my client asked me to do.” If he was bothered by Joey’s attitude, he didn’t show it.
“Who’s your client?”
“Your uncle.”
Joey felt the blood drain from his head, and his limbs went numb. Oh, God. He knew. I’m a dead man.
He willed himself to sit up straight, knowing that this lawyer would probably report his reactions to his uncle. And while Joey knew he was in deep, he still had his pride. He refused to give in to the urge to whimper like a child.
“How does Uncle Sal know I’m here?”
“He has his sources.”
Of course. Naturally, Uncle Sal had eyes and ears everywhere. Hell, he probably had some cops on the payroll, which would explain how he’d gotten the news so quickly.
“And he’s sent you to help me?” The thought gave Joey some measure of comfort. If Uncle Sal was truly angry, surely he would have left Joey in jail to rot rather than send some high-priced professional to bail him out. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all?
Richard eyed him thoughtfully. “In a manner of speaking.”
What was that supposed to mean? Evidently sensing his confusion, the lawyer went on. “Your uncle is unhappy with your actions tonight. He’s asked me to post bail for you, under the condition that you do exactly as he requests.”
That didn’t sound so bad. “What’s he want from me?”
“The owner of the store you tried to rob tonight has some documents in his possession. These are sensitive photos that your uncle would like to possess. Unfortunately, Ben Carter thought to use blackmail in exchange for debt forgiveness. Your uncle did not agree to those terms.”
The lightbulb clicked on in Joey’s head. So that’s why Sal’s goons hadn’t gone after Ben yet! They were trying to get the pictures back so his uncle wasn’t embarrassed. “What does he want me to do?”
“If you can retrieve the photos, your uncle is willing to overlook tonight’s transgressions.” The lawyer’s tone made it clear he didn’t think Joey’s chances of success were high. “If not, he will make sure you are dealt with appropriately.”
Joey ignored the shiver that ran down his spine at the implied threat. He had no illusions that Sal would go easy on him simply because they shared bonds of blood. “Does he care how I do it?”
Richard shrugged. “He would prefer you keep things quiet, if possible. But make no mistake—he wants those photos, at any cost.”
Joey nodded. He could do this. How hard could it be? “Okay. When’s he want them?”
“As soon as possible. Do you think you can handle this request?”
“Oh, yeah.” He felt his confidence return with every passing moment. This was his second chance, and he was going to make the most of it. Show Uncle Sal he wasn’t a screwup, that he could be trusted. He was tired of being treated like a child. He was going to fix this, and his uncle would be so grateful he’d have to acknowledge that Joey was an important part of the family.
“You really think you can get me out of here?” He eyed the lawyer up and down. “They caught me red-handed. Gonna be pretty hard to argue I’m innocent.”
Richard Beck gave him a small smirk. “Don’t trouble yourself with the details. I assure you, I will do my job.” He stood and walked over to the door, but turned back before opening it. “Let us hope you can say the same.”
* * *
Big Sal reached for his phone with a halfhearted curse, shaking his head to clear the fog of sleep. Sylvia, his wife, stirred in the bed next to him.
“Who is calling you this late?” she asked, her annoyance clear despite the sleepy tone of her voice.
He glanced at the lighted display. “Richard,” he said.
Sylvia turned over with a huff. “Doesn’t he ever sleep?”
Sal chuckled softly. “I pay him too much for that.”
He climbed out of bed and grabbed his robe on the way out the door. Although Sylvia knew Richard was his attorney, she didn’t know the finer details of the services Richard provided for him. And he planned to keep it that way.
“Yes?” he answered, sliding into his robe as he walked to his study.
“It’s done.”
“He knows what to do?” Joey had already screwed things up tonight. He wouldn’t put it past the kid to do it again.
“I was very clear,” Richard assured him.
“Humph.” Under normal circumstances, Sal would have been confident in Richard’s communication skills. But Joey wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box, as he’d proven time and time again. He didn’t really think the kid would be able to get this job done, but he had to give him one last shot. He owed it to his sister—God rest her soul—and maybe Joey would actually surprise him.
Stranger things had happened before.
“I will post his bail tomorrow morning, after the initial hearing,” Richard was saying. “Will there be anything else?”
Sal shook his head, then remembered the other man couldn’t see him. “Not right now. I appreciate you taking care of this.”
“My pleasure,” Richard replied smoothly. “May I ask a question?”
Sal’s curiosity perked up. Usually, Richard didn’t want to know any more details than necessary. What had changed? “Of course.”
The attorney hesitated, as if choosing his words with care. “If I may, sir. This young man doesn’t seem to be the most capable choice for the job at hand. Are you sure you can trust him?”
“He’s family,” Sal said flatly. “I don’t have another choice right now.”
“Very good, sir,” Richard said. “Good night, then.”
Sal hung up the phone and stared out the back window, overlooking the perfectly manicured garden and the Olympic-size pool. It was a full moon tonight, the light so bright he could see every ripple of the water, every silvery shimmer as a light wind stirred the surface, creating tiny little waves. It was a beautiful pool, but he’d never been in it. He’d never had the time.
His doctor was always after him to lose weight and move more, and swimming would be a great way to exercise. Wasn’t it supposed to be a stress reliever, as well? He could definitely use some of that. If those pictures were leaked to the wider world, he was in for a hell of a lot of pain. His thoughts drifted to Sylvia, fast asleep in their bed. She was not a forgiving woman. But worse than that was the thought of what Isabella would do to him. If she knew they had been seen together, that there was photographic evidence of their association...
He shuddered involuntarily, the jolt of fear leaving a bad taste in his mouth. It wouldn’t come to that. He would give Joey a few days to get the pictures back. And if the kid failed, well, he’d be able to deal with his nephew with a clear conscience. Plus, there would still be time to get the photos back before they leaked.
It was a good plan, overall. It should work.
It has to work, he amended silently.
He simply couldn’t face the consequences of failure.
