“You shouldn’t have taken Brando’s name in vain.”
“Then tell me why you’re not afraid of Richie Overton.” He downshifted as he got off onto the city street.
“I’m not afraid of Richie.”
“Exactly. Why?”
Avery’s head bobbed, as if she were rolling her eyes behind her dark glasses. “There’s no creepy vibe with him. He’s your typical hail-fellow-well-met type of guy. Everyone’s best friend. He takes rejection like water off a duck’s back.”
“You reject him often?”
“All the time,” Avery said, not realizing she’d fallen into his trap. “He’s always coming up with dinner invitations, cruises, parties, and stuff like that.”
“You take him up on them?”
Her lips twisted. “Not after I got serious with my design studio. Besides, I’m not into the crowd he hangs with.”
“Hmmm …” Jason waited. Most people would fill in any available silence.
Sure enough, she continued. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s very popular, and he knows all the major fundraisers. My dad even asked me to hook him up with one of Richie’s buddies.”
“Hmmm …” Jason swung the steering wheel in the direction of Avery’s apartment building. “Did he come through?”
“As far as I know.” She tossed her hair from her face. “He enjoys connecting people.”
“Why? What does he get out of it?”
“Other than being popular? They do favors for him. He scored tickets to The Schitts of Fifth Avenue.”
“No shit! How’d he do that?” Jason made a long whistle of amazement, the better to spur Avery into revealing more.
“Probably hooked the director up with either a drug dealer or a donor. He’ll take payment in tickets, invitations, gifts, or introductions.”
“Cash, too?”
“Eh, of course, cash, but he’s got plenty of it. He’s more into influence.”
“And being a power broker.”
“Nah, you don’t get Richie. He’s too lazy to worry about power. His dad handles that part of it. He’s just there to loaf and live his privileged life. He asked me to go to the Broadway show with him as arm candy, but I told him he’s no longer my type.”
“Why not? I bet he could make you designer of the year and get you in all the best shows. Milan, London, Paris.”
The temperature dropped to below zero, freezing.
Avery clammed up. Her arms crossed over her bouncy chest, and she stared straight ahead.
Her building was coming up, and once he arrived, they’d be met by her brother. He didn’t have much time to get the goods on Richie.
Time to be an asshole again.
“If Richie didn’t help you break into fashion design, who did? Who hooked you up with Alida Adams? How’d she get you a debut at Manhattan Fashion Week? Come on, Ave, it’s obvious. You slept with Richie and—”
Slap.
Her open palm left a sting on his face, but he resisted putting his hand on it.
“Assaulting a police officer. You’re such a criminal.”
“You’re an asshole.” She was so angry she could barely speak. “You smear my talent. You act like I’m a whore. You’re a sexist pig.”
“Someone’s trying to kill you. I’ll be as disgusting as I have to. If Richie’s no threat, who is? Larry Leach? Your professor, Orson Leach? Or is there a man in your life you’re keeping on the downlow?” He double-parked in front of her building. “And don’t look at me all shocked and offended. I want to know what everyone has on you and why they want to scare you from doing your shows, or worse, eliminate you. Is it competition? Payback to your family? Jealousy? Blackmail? Someone killed Brando Bonet, and yes, I’m going to use his name in vain. Aren’t you interested in putting this person away? Or are you too scared?”
“I’m not scared,” she yelled. Two spots of red blotched her cheeks, and she huffed with anger.
“Yes, you are.” He forced his voice to slither like a snake’s hiss. “You’re afraid I’ll find something you don’t like. What are you covering up?”
“Let it go.” Avery lowered her sunglasses to glare at him. “Just leave it alone. No one’s going to kill me. It’s guys like you who should watch your back.”
“I wonder why you would threaten me.” He ripped the glasses from her hand and jutted his jaw at her. “Am I getting too close to you?”
“I hate you.” Her eyes narrowed into slits.
“Thank you.” He tilted his head as if he’d kiss her.
Her eyes closed, and her lips pursed, likely by reflex.
He replaced her sunglasses and turned away from her, sparing her the embarrassment of the missed kiss.
If he had to make her hate him to get the answers he needed, so be it.
He opened the door and spotted Avery’s twin brother, Damon, coming out of the building. The man had the springy gait of a prizefighter, and he oozed with anger and agitation.
Stepping from the car, he extended his hand. “Detective Jason Burnett. I have a few questions for you.”
Damon grabbed his hand and squeezed, but Jason gripped him back as hard as he could. The standoff continued with neither side willing to disengage.
Avery tapped Damon on the arm. “Don’t speak to him unless he has a search warrant.”
Damon let go, wincing as he put his sore hand over his sister’s back. “You okay? Did he bruise you, or was that from the accident?”
“It wasn’t an accident,” Jason said. “If you don’t want to answer my questions, I can have you come down to the station.”
“On what grounds?” Damon shoved Avery behind his back in a protective gesture. “You kidnapped my sister, held her overnight against her will, and from the looks of her face, I could charge you for battering.”
“Dysfunctional.”
“What do you mean?” Damon’s eyes narrowed.
“Ignore him,” Avery said. “He uses insults to get information. He has nothing.”
“Actually, I’m here to investigate the break-in to Avery’s apartment and look for evidence.” Jason flipped out his badge, not that he needed to, but to thoroughly annoy Avery.
“Let him in,” she said. “I’m moving into your apartment.”
“It’s a mess,” Damon said.
“I’ll clean it. After this detective is finished with his investigation, I never want to see him again.” With a toss of her head, she swiveled off toward the doorman who opened the door for her.
Once they entered the lobby, Avery hit the elevator button quickly and got in. She closed the door before Damon or Jason could enter after her.
“You’re such a tool,” Damon said to Jason as he hit the button again. “If you think you can move in on my sister, you don’t know anything. No one can replace Brando Bonet, and you are his polar opposite.”
“I’m exactly what she needs.” Jason made an “after-you” gesture when the elevator doors reopened. “Your sister’s in danger and in big denial. Chase was worried enough to stash her at the mansion, but she’s also stubborn enough not to pay attention to her safety. If you love her, as I believe you do, you’ll work with me to bring the killer to justice.”
Damon’s thick brows lowered, and he rubbed his jaw, frowning. “I’m worried, but I think it’s political. It’s aimed at my father. He wants to shake things up, and he’s an outsider. Avery is his favorite child, and by threatening her, they can get him to drop out of the race.”
“I’m sure a parent has many favorite children,” Jason said. “Why focus on Avery and her fashion show?”
“She makes for a better story. Troubled teen model turning her life around. Engaged to firefighter hero on her maiden fashion show. World at her feet.”
“Did your father receive threatening messages?”
“Doesn’t need to. They talk in code. Dog whistles. If you’re going to investigate, look into Congressman Overton and Ivanna Chu.”
“What’s the connection?”
“Her sister, Clarissa Chu, is a publicist for Congressman Overton.”
“Thanks for the tip.” Jason watched the indicator close in on Avery’s floor. “Why haven’t you reported this before?”
“Nothing’s happened to my sister until the accident yesterday with the taxicab jumping the curb.”
“That was no accident. I might have a suspect. Tell me what you know about Larry Leach.”
“He’s a good friend of Avery’s. There’s no problem there,” Damon said. “They never dated either, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I have to cover every angle. Know anything about Professor Leach’s private fashion shows?”
Damon shrugged, getting out of the elevator. “He’s immunosuppressed. Gives Avery pre-show feedback. Has a vested interest in her success. I don’t see anything suspicious there.”
“Any other men interested in Avery?”
“Other than yourself?” Damon jutted his chin at Jason. “I hope you’re not a jealous man. Besides having zero chance with my sister, you should know that a woman as pretty as my sister has many men vying for her attention. It’s always been this way. It’s a curse beautiful women endure.”
“Why is that?”
“As if you don’t know.” He crowded Jason against the wall of the corridor. “Stay away from my sister. Any questions you have, you come to me.”
“Where were you when she was attacked?”
Damon’s upper lip curled. “What’s your point?”
“You’re either a witness who hasn’t come forward, or you weren’t around to protect her. Do I need to take you in for questioning?”
“Jerk.” Damon spat as he turned toward Avery’s door.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Avery dropped her overnighter in front of her door and picked up the golden box of chocolates propped against it. A smile almost tickled her face when she saw it was her favorite brand.
Before Jason’s insinuations, she would have enjoyed it—figuring they were from a secret admirer who was harmless. Now, he’d ruined even the smallest bit of enjoyment at being a minor celebrity.
He’d likely yell at her for picking up the box and ruining the fingerprints. Eff him.
She slipped the card from behind the ribbon and opened it.
Blank.
The chocolates were expensive, and it wasn’t Richie’s style not to take credit for them. He was a namedropper, and he made sure everyone knew the backstory to every gift or event he came across.
“Was that there when you reported the break-in?” Jason’s voice startled her. She jerked guiltily and tried to hide the box behind her back.
“No, it wasn’t,” Damon replied. “Who are they from?”
“No name.” She studiously kept her gaze from Jason’s heated presence. How was it this man could make all her nerve endings shimmer while grating under her skin with his deep hero’s voice making accusations?
Jason took out an evidence bag and slipped a glove over his hand. “You shouldn’t have touched it. I’ll need to dust it for fingerprints. Now I’ll need to collect your fingerprints, too, to eliminate those in favor of the suspect’s.”
“Excuse me? Damon said this box wasn’t here earlier,” Avery said. “You can’t have them. They’re mine.”
“They could be poisoned.” He wrestled the box from her grip and zipped up the evidence bag. “Let’s go into your apartment. I need you to tell me everything that’s out of place.”
“Not until you have a search warrant,” Avery said. “I’m not going to press charges on this burglary. The door isn’t even broken.”
“It’s because you probably left it unlocked,” Damon said.
“Then it’s not a break-in.” Avery flipped her hair over her shoulder and acted nonchalant.
“What are you trying to hide?” Jason, never a respecter of personal distance, crowded her against the doorway.
“Nothing. I want to see what was taken. Maybe Damon got it wrong about my design notebook.”
“He thinks Ivanna Chu took it,” Jason said, receiving a sharp glare from Damon.
“Ivanna? No way.” Avery blocked the doorknob with her body. “Damon, why would you accuse Ivanna? She works for me.”
“I mentioned her as a possibility,” Damon said. “She knows your entire model lineup and helps you plan the show.”
“So?” Avery’s gaze darted from Damon to Jason. “Do you suspect her?”
“Was she working for you last year?”
“Yes, but I trust her one hundred percent.” Avery crossed her arms. “If you two are going to railroad her, I’m done with this investigation. Even if she took my notebook, she has good reason to get into my sketches. She’s the one responsible for selecting the accessories for each model based on what they’re wearing. Maybe she wanted to get an idea of what’s in my head.”
She wasn’t going to let on that Ivanna could be going behind her back to get funding to start her own line. She’d deal with the disloyalty on her own.
“She could have called you.” Jason moved so close to Avery he was up against her, sandwiching her between the door and his body. “Let me in for a look-see.”
His heat was palpable, as well as his sexy scent, and fire stirred in Avery’s blood. If she let him into the apartment, he might not be leaving soon.
“You just want to see my apartment,” Avery said.
“Whoever ransacked it left it a mess,” Damon said.
“I can clean it up,” Jason said in a voice mocking Avery’s.
“Fine.” Avery turned and unlocked the door. “There’s nothing to see.”
The ransacking was minor. Pieces of mail were scattered on the floor, and the sofa cushions were displaced. Avery explained where everything belonged, and when she swept her hand underneath a pile of magazines inside a basket, she found her notebook.
“Here it is!” She swung it side to side triumphantly. “Looks like whoever broke in didn’t find it.”
Jason’s suspicious eyes skewered Damon. “Why would you automatically say it was missing? Are you in the habit of keeping track of your sister’s sketchbook?”
Damon shifted from foot to foot and wiped his forehead. “No, but I spotted Ivanna and figured she was up to no good.”
“What do you have against her?” Avery asked. “Damon, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. I don’t like her. I caught her talking about you behind your back, and I don’t think she took it well when you rejected her designs.”
“I was only helping her improve,” Avery said, in keeping with her altruistic image. “She was appreciative. I don’t get why you don’t like her.”
“Her sister is a publicist for Congressman Overton,” Jason said. “Damon suspects your problems have to do with your father’s campaign.”
“Damon!” Avery exclaimed. “Neither me nor Dad scare easily. Stop feeding Detective Burnett conspiracy theories.”
“He’s only trying to help,” Jason said. “He’s concerned about you and wants you to stay safe.”
“You. Stay out of this.” She poked him in his chest. “You’ve looked around. Nothing’s missing. I might have left my door unlocked. There’s no sign of a broken lock or door, so case closed. You’re wasting police resources on a non-burglary.”
Jason skewered Damon with a sharp look. “Filing a false police report is a crime.”
“I never called the police,” he said. “You’re the one who assumed there was a break-in.”
“You made a fuss to get Avery to come back. Why?”
“It worked, didn’t it? I didn’t want her hiding out with you.”
Avery’s jaw dropped. “So, you’re lying about Ivanna?”
“No, she was lurking,” Damon said. “I thought she might have come out of your apartment. She looked suspicious, like she was caught. She had a plastic shopping bag in her hand.”
“She’s working on an accessory for me,” Avery said, glad that the non-burglary had been cleared up.
She turned Jason’s body around and pointed him at the door. “Don’t good policemen have work to do? I’m sure you have lots to investigate, and nothing’s happened here.”
“Except this.” Jason held up the evidence bag with the box of chocolates. “I need you to come to the station with me for fingerprinting. If Ivanna didn’t drop off this box, and I doubt she went through your mail or flipped the sofa cushions, then someone else did.”
“It’s not a crime to drop off chocolate.”
“It’s suspicious that he or she didn’t sign the note.” Jason’s jaw jutted as stubborn as a mule’s snout.
“Give those back.” Avery grabbed the plastic bag, but he wouldn’t let go.
“Your reluctance to cooperate makes me believe you know who’s searching your apartment and giving you chocolate.” Jason’s face split into a sly grin as if this were all a big game. “You purposely didn’t look in your panty drawer, and I’m betting you hid something there and you’re dying to see if that long, hard object you have tucked into a knee-high stocking is waiting for you.”
“Why don’t you shut up and get out of here?” Avery stomped her way into her bedroom.
Damon grabbed Jason’s arm to keep him from following. “You should leave.”
“Don’t touch me,” Jason ordered, and Damon let go, but he physically blocked the door and braced his hands on the frame. Thank goodness for buff brothers.
She wasn’t going to give Jason the pleasure of opening her top drawer, but she could already tell it had been disturbed. It was off-kilter and not shoved all the way back.
“Don’t keep me in suspense,” Jason said from the far side of Damon. “Whatever is missing is important, and Ivanna didn’t take it, or you wouldn’t be worried.”
“Go away.”
“Not until you come to the station to get printed.”
“I didn’t report a crime.”
“Yes, you did,” Jason taunted. “You dragged me from my cabin, wrecked my Hellcat, assaulted me several times. You either cooperate, or I’m going to read you your rights.”
“Fuck you.”
He waggled his eyebrows, probably Morse code for you already did. Aloud, he said, “What’s missing, Avery Cockburn. Let’s see it.”
Triggered by Love Page 17
