by Beverly Long
“What was the driver’s name?”
“I’d have to look it up. I don’t have the paperwork with me.”
“Where would it be?” he asked.
“In my office in Carmel.”
“Can your assistant, Gillian, find it?”
“Yes, she would have filed it. But I don’t understand where you’re going with this.”
“I’m not sure where I’m going,” he said. “But around the same time that you’re being followed and odd things are happening, a women rams into your car. And she’s from Vegas, where our journey together started and where it’s going to end. I don’t like it. And when I don’t like something, it gets my attention.”
She let out a breath. “Fine. I’ll text Gillian. She can get me the name.”
“Have her scan the whole accident report and email it to me.”
“It will be tomorrow, when she’s back in the office. Anything else?” she asked. At least he seemed willing to let the discussion about him being a pilot go.
“Nope,” he said, as the server came back with steaming plates. She set them down and left. “We should eat because I don’t think they’re going to let you sleep here,” he added, reaching for his fork.
She knew where she wanted to sleep. And it wasn’t in this booth. She reached her arm out, resting her fingertips against his hand. “I want to sleep with you. Your bed, my bed, I don’t care. But don’t ask me to think beyond that. I just can’t do it right now.”
He swallowed, hard enough that she could see the muscles of his throat working. “Did you see that they had dark chocolate mousse on the dessert menu?”
It wasn’t the response she’d expected. “I did,” she answered carefully.
“You’re not the only one who likes chocolate.”
“Okay.”
“We’re getting a couple to go,” he said. “No plates needed.”
“Because...”
“Because I’m going to eat you up, darling.”
Chapter 16
They were both quiet on the drive from the restaurant to the hotel. In the elevator, they stood a foot apart, as if afraid to get too close. She carried the desserts so that his hands would be free.
He unlocked her room, checked it and motioned her inside. Then very deliberately locked the door and turned. She was still standing in the same spot, just feet inside the room.
The air in the room was warm.
And more heat was pouring off him.
He wanted her badly.
“Don’t move,” he said. He used the connecting door to get to his room, made sure it was clear, and then took his gun from his waist holster. Returned to Megan’s room and carefully placed the gun in the drawer of the nightstand. Sat down on the edge of the bed. With his index finger, he motioned for her to come close.
She took small steps and his heart was hammering in his chest by the time she reached him. He reached for the sack in her hand and set it on the nightstand. Then used one finger to slide the strap of her purse off her shoulder and down her arm. He tossed it toward the chair in the corner. Heard it hit.
Every sound, every touch, every breath—it was all exaggerated.
So like he felt every time he’d suited up and climbed into the cockpit of his F-16.
He pulled her closer, between his thighs. With her still standing, he reached under her dress, ran his hands up the backs of her strong legs, settled them on the cheeks of her butt. Could feel her sexy underwear. “What color?” he asked.
“Pink,” she whispered.
“Very girlie,” he said. He edged his hands around, feeling her hips, the front of her thighs. He slipped his thumbs under the lace and pressed hard into her center.
She gasped and arched. “Oh, God,” she said.
He slipped two fingers inside her. Moved them. Finding the spot.
Her head was back, her breath was coming in spurts and she bucked on his hand. Reaching blindly, she grabbed for a shoulder.
“I’ve got you. You won’t fall,” he said. He held her tight with his leg muscles. “I promise.”
But minutes later, she did tumble. Over the edge, her inner muscles clenching and unclenching, over and over.
And when she was spent, her head hanging, she pushed her hair back from her face and smiled at him. “I guess we’re eating our chocolate mousse with spoons after all.”
He moved fast, almost flipping her onto her back on the soft bed. “Not so. That was the appetizer. Dessert comes after the main meal.”
“What’s for dinner?” she asked, a bit weakly.
He laughed.
“You, darling. Just you.”
* * *
Megan missed her morning run for the second day in a row but she didn’t mind. It was after eight when she finally woke up, feeling as if there wasn’t an inch of her body that Seth had not explored. And enjoyed.
She felt as if her brain had been emptied and filled with straw. It had matched the boneless exhaustion that had consumed her before they’d finally slept. Now she saw that he was already up, showered, dressed, with coffee made. He was sitting in the chair, looking at his phone.
“Good morning,” he said.
His eyes were warm but there was something in his tone. She sat up in bed, pulling the sheet up to cover her. “What’s wrong?”
“We have two bits of news. One, the Albuquerque police have a report back from their lab. The candy in the assorted box of chocolates was tainted. With a laxative that you can purchase over the counter. They suspect a syringe was used to insert the laxative into each piece. It likely wouldn’t have killed anyone who ate it but they’d have been...let’s just say, incapacitated for a period of time. And two, there is confirmation that an alarm was pulled to initiate the fire drill. By someone wearing white pants, a white lab coat and a white baseball cap.”
She rubbed her forehead. “Can I have a cup of coffee, please?”
“Of course.” He poured it and brought it over to the bed. But he didn’t sit down. Instead, he returned to his chair.
She sipped. Tried to think it through. “It seems... I don’t know, it all seems kind of lame.”
“Agree. Which has made me reflect on the pattern of things that have occurred. The first odd thing was you noticed the blond man following you, once home from work and once on the Fourth of July. He watched your apartment one night but he never approached. Then it was hang-up calls and annoying door buzzers. I’d put all that into the lame category.”
She nodded.
“Then you overhear a scary conversation between a man and a woman, both with some accent, about the best way to kill a person. That ratchets up lame into threatening. Then you have your car accident, which we’re going to get more information on this morning. You and Abigail travel to Vegas and you think you’re being followed. Back to lame. But then we’re shot at.”
“Maybe the shots were purposely fired over our heads. Could be lame,” she said. “More scare tactics.”
He shook his head. “That shot came from some distance. And most people are not that good with a gun. If we were dealing with former military, then maybe. But I really think they fired that gun with some seriously bad intent. So for my money, it almost seems as if somebody was acting upon that conversation you heard underneath your window.”
“It was a man and a woman. If we assume the man was the blond guy, then the woman is the new player. She’s...not lame...” Her voice trailed off.
“Oh, she’s probably pretty lame but it does look like she’s bringing more serious toys to the party,” he said. “Then we go on the road and there’s the call about your parents’ plane crash and subsequent no-show at Marta’s Deli, the snake, the fire alarm, and now candy that would have kept you and your employees in the bathroom all day. All lame.”
“Irritating,” she said.
&
nbsp; “Definitely. I remember you using the word unsettled. A series of things, even when they are lame, is damn unsettling.”
“I still think that I should call Logan,” she said. “He would know if there was new information about the crash. He would know why his brother would be contacting me.”
It was time to tell her the truth. “Trey Riker is going to be talking to Logan today.”
“What? When was this decision made?”
“The night before last. I had a conversation with Trey when we were at the cocktail party. He was already working on Logan’s background check so he seemed like the logical one to have the conversation.”
“Oh.” She stared at him. “Did he tell you anything about Logan that was interesting?”
He felt a pain in his gut and recognized that it was likely jealousy. Was it possible that after all this time she still cared for the man? “He’s married with two kids and works at a bank in Cincinnati.”
She said nothing. That unnerved him.
“What do you think about that?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I think it sounds as if he’s got a nice life.”
“You could have had that life.” Now he was really poking at her.
“But I don’t,” she said. “Because I made a choice. The best choice for me.”
The burn in his gut intensified. “I’m just wondering if you ever have any regrets.” He wasn’t generally a chicken but he was clearly not able to man up. What he should have asked was whether she was willing to make the same ultimatum again, live with the same consequences again. Was she going to push him away by giving him unacceptable options?
She said nothing for a long moment. “I have no regrets,” she said. “Now, I’m going to get up and shower and then I think we should get on the road. We’ve got a long drive to Colorado Springs today.”
She wasn’t answering his unspoken questions. Fair enough, he supposed. Damn frustrating, though. Was it possible that she didn’t realize what he was truly asking? He didn’t think so. She was too bright, too perceptive. But she’d asked for light and easy, and the conversation he was edging toward would be none of those things.
“I can be ready in fifteen minutes,” he said, deciding to back off. They had a few more days together. He wasn’t going to risk that by pushing her too hard.
“Give me thirty,” she said. “And please, when you hear from Trey, don’t hide the information from me. I want to know what Logan has to say.”
“Okay.” It was a fair request. “But I need you to do something before you shower. Get a hold of your assistant. I want information about the driver who hit you. Have her send it to both of us.”
She picked up her phone. “On it.”
* * *
Megan’s assistant was efficient. Both of their phones chimed, indicating new emails, while they were eating breakfast. The email from Gillian was succinct: As you requested. He clicked on the attachment and studied the notes the responding officer had made.
Female driver, age forty-eight, claimed that she didn’t realize that she was approaching a four-way stop. When she saw another vehicle crossing the intersection, she tried to stop but was unsuccessful. Driver of the second vehicle, female, age thirty-five, was extricated from the vehicle and removed from the scene by ambulance.
Pretty much what Megan had said. But it still made his blood run cold. She could have been killed.
He found the driver’s name. “Nadia Vitron,” he said. “That was the other driver’s name.”
Megan also had her phone in her hand. She’d pushed her half-finished poached eggs and English muffin aside. “Yes, that’s right. I remember now.”
“Doesn’t mean anything to you?”
“No.”
He forwarded the email on to Royce and added a message. Need information on Nadia Vitron ASAP.
“Royce will be on it,” he said.
She shook her head. “I suspect that none of your partners realized that doing business with North and More Designs was going to be a full-time job for everybody.”
“They’re fine with helping out,” Seth said. “That’s what we do for one another.”
“You’re a lucky group of guys to have found one another. Not everybody gets that at work.”
Luck probably had something to do with it. But they all worked hard at the friendship. He knew how much he’d miss it if it ended. Probably a little like she missed having Abigail on this trip. “Once Abigail has the baby, will she be more involved in North and More Designs?”
“I imagine so. We’ll play it by ear. She’s actually doing a great deal for the Vegas opening. She’s getting everything ready for the fashion show and making sure the boutique is ready to go.”
“You don’t have Jasmine to see to things there.”
“No. It’s enough for her to oversee the three other boutiques, with site managers reporting to her. We have a manager hired for the Vegas store. She’ll report directly to me, as will Jasmine.”
“And you’ll work from your office in Carmel?”
“I’ll likely divide my time between Carmel and Vegas to start.”
“Going to stay at the Periwinkle?”
“No. That would be kind of pricey. I’ll get an apartment.”
“I do have that extra bedroom,” he said, his tone light.
“We had this conversation,” she said. “When you offered your place for the Vegas opening.”
“We had limited conversation about it,” he said, “before we moved on to other topics. I don’t recall a decision ever being made.”
“That’s right. I’m not making any housing decisions on this trip.”
Read between the lines, Pike. Discussions about sharing a living space did not fall into the light and easy category. “Okay. Just wanted to make sure you were aware of your options. If you’re done, we should get on the road.”
* * *
They were an hour outside Colorado Springs when she heard Seth’s phone buzz. “It’s Trey,” he said.
“Can you put it on speaker?” she asked.
“Hey, Trey,” he answered. “I’ve got you on speaker and Megan is here.”
She wasn’t offended by the disclaimer. After all, the man had been talking to her ex-fiancé. Logan had been very angry at her when she’d broken off the engagement. Perhaps during the years, he’d mellowed. Perhaps not.
“Hi, Megan. How are the grand openings going?”
“Good. Two down and two to go.”
“Kellie is all excited about your Vegas store. Said that once she has these babies, she gets a couple hours there.”
“That will be great,” Megan said.
“I didn’t see any short black skirts or white shirts,” Seth interjected.
Huh?
Trey laughed. “Not to worry. Ordered a lifetime supply of those already.”
“He’s got a slight fetish for the outfit that Kellie wore when she was a cocktail server at Lavender,” Seth explained. “So what do you have for us?”
“I met with Logan Lewis this morning. There’s three things that I’m pretty confident of. He didn’t know anything about Megan getting anonymous calls regarding the crash. There is no new information about the crash. And three, he doesn’t have a clue what his brother is up to. Hasn’t seen him for four years.”
“Did he say why?” Megan asked.
“Not in detail but I got enough to know that four or so years ago, Ross visited Logan in Cincinnati and when he left, Logan was missing about a thousand dollars in cash and his wife’s jewelry box had been depleted of anything of value. Ross evidently has a drug problem.”
That was sad. But if they’d had no contact for four years, what would cause Ross to suddenly make up a story that there was new information about the crash? That really made no sense.
“Did you tell
him that we’re trying to find Ross?” Seth asked.
“I did. I told him that he was most recently living in the Los Angeles area and that was news to him. He’s not going to be any help to us.”
Megan glanced quickly at Seth.
“Did he say anything else?” Seth asked.
“He...asked about Megan?” Trey said. “I told him that she was well and he seemed happy to hear that.”
Megan could feel her face get warm and adjusted the vent so that the air-conditioning was aimed there.
“Okay, we got it,” Seth said. “Thanks very much.”
“No problem. See you when you’re back in Vegas.”
Seth put his phone down. “Well, that’s that.”
“Now that we know this, is it even important to find Ross? Logan confirmed there’s no new information.”
“I want to find him,” Seth said. “There’s a couple things that bother me. Ross has had no contact with you for fifteen years and no contact with his brother for four. But something motivated him to pick up the phone, two times, to call you. And his message was guaranteed to cause you angst. So why and why now? I want to understand that motivation. And maybe equally important is that Ross doesn’t sound like an upstanding citizen. I don’t like those types to be unaccounted for.”
“What should I do if he calls again?” she asked.
“We need to force his hand. So call him by name. Let him know that you know there’s no new information. Ask him why he’s calling you. We might get lucky and he’ll offer something up that will be helpful. Tell him that you want to meet with him in person, for old times’ sake, if nothing else.”
“I have to tell you,” she said, “I hope he just doesn’t call again.”
“I’d be okay with that, too,” he said, “if I only knew where he was.”
It was a warm August afternoon in Colorado Springs with the thermometer hovering around eighty. They got to their hotel and entered the air-conditioned lobby.
“Checking in for Megan North and Seth Pike,” Megan said.
The clerk clicked some computer keys. “I see your reservation for two rooms.”
