All wagons circled back to the awful Leaches.
Jason tried to relax, especially as he felt Avery slip into a deep sleep. She was soft and limp in his arms, with a sweet purring she’d deny was a snore. Her silky hair cascaded over her face, and the scent of her freshly washed hair was as clean and crisp as a meadow of wildflowers.
He couldn’t stay here on the bed all night without following up on the Leaches. What if they planned another attack at the fashion show, despite all the precautions he’d taken?
Jason’s muscles tensed, trying to figure out a way he could ease Avery off his chest. His heart was thumping so loudly, he was sure she’d wake up. He moved her hand from his shoulder, but she put it right back and clutched him tighter.
Her eyelids barely fluttered, but her breathing was steady—still asleep. He slowly, slowly rolled her toward the wall, but she readjusted herself, humming as she snuggled her face in the crook of his neck.
It was no use. He’d have to go with the flow and hold her all night like he promised. This was likely the first night in a very long time that she was able to sleep so deeply.
The investigation could continue in the morning.
He’d already put Blade on the case—given him a list of suspects, and if there was one thing he was sure of, his partner had his back.
Chapter Forty-Four
Jason’s old hunting clothes still draped off Avery the next morning, but she didn’t mind. She’d had the best sleep she could remember, and he was holding her when she woke.
Stretching herself out, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and kissed Jason on his scruffy cheek.
He woke with a start.
“Ooops, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said.
His eyes blinked wildly, on alert, but he simmered down when she held his head against her breasts, patting him like he was a lost puppy.
“We made it through the night, and we’re both safe,” she murmured. “Guess we better go back to the city and get ready for the show.”
“Right. The show. I have to check in with Blade.” He tried to wake his phone. “Out of juice.”
“You might as well take a shower and let me see if I can scrounge up some coffee.”
“Whatever’s in the tins is stale,” he muttered, then gave her a wet kiss on the cheek. “Be right back.”
He plugged his phone into the charger and stepped into the tiny bathroom.
While he shaved and showered, Avery watched the phone come to life. Even though the screen was locked, a series of text message summaries flashed across the top.
They were from Blade, Jason’s partner, and one particular one caught her eye.
Saul was spotted with Ivanna all friendly and cozy.
The next one said.
Suggest we question him. Maybe his alibi isn’t solid.
Another one said.
Avery’s parents aren’t attending the show???
Her heart stopped at the last message. She’d entirely forgotten that her parents had been at the show the year before. She’d blocked out the aftermath of Brando’s death, the ambulance scene, the shouts and questions, and the blessed relief of the tranquilizer shot.
Someone had to have taken her home that night, cleaned her up, and put her in her girlhood bed. She’d been numb when she’d awakened, dressed in her mother’s nightgown.
She hadn’t gotten out of that bed for a week, unable to face the inevitable—Brando’s funeral where she’d gotten a glimpse of Jason Burnett, roaming the crowd with his ever-watchful eyes.
Had the person behind the shooting lurked in the back, or had he or she sat in the front of the church with family and fellow mourners?
Had it been one of her father’s friends or her mother’s art crowd, the aging Bohemians who dressed like Woodstock was still a thing? Or perish the thought, one of Brando’s fellow firefighters? Even a pallbearer?
She shuddered and jumped when the bathroom door opened and Jason stepped out.
“Something happen?” he asked, his hand out for his phone.
“My parents aren’t coming to the show. Sorry for peeking.”
“No problem.” He swiped in the passcode and read his messages. His frown darkened as he scrolled farther. “Maybe they got wind of something going down, or one of them isn’t feeling well. Why don’t you call and ask?”
“How did Blade find out?” She put her shaking hands underneath her thighs. “Does he know them?”
“Don’t know,” Jason said. “But he’s been asking questions of all the people associated with the show. Maybe he spoke to Damon.”
“Yeah, they must be worried about me. I did text Damon and tell him I’m with you. Hope it’s okay.”
“It’s always okay.” He set the phone down and wrapped her in his arms. “I have nothing to hide. Why don’t you get ready and we’ll do something to unleash all that nervous energy coiled up inside of you?”
“I did get a great night’s sleep, but it didn’t last, did it?” She kissed him, and he turned it into a grindy hot and promising tongue lashing.
He detached with a loud, sucking smack and swatted her behind. “I’ll go get breakfast while you get ready.”
“Hey, this isn’t the way back to the city,” Avery protested as Jason steered the car off the highway. The dense woods soon gave way to an overgrown field thick with waist-high weeds.
“We’ll get there,” Jason said, chuckling. “But first, we let off some steam.”
She wasn’t going to admit it, but she’d thought the bed was the perfect place to let off steam. Instead, that frustrating man had brought back two hot, steaming mugs of coffee, and a takeout container of chocolate chunk fudge brownies covered with vanilla ice cream. Her favorite comfort food.
“I have to burn off calories after that treat,” she said. “Are we going hiking?”
“Even better.” He pointed to the side of the barn and what looked like clumps of rusted metal. “See that obstacle course there?”
She looked down on the loose jeans, rolled up hems, and the stilettos which were her only footwear. “I can’t hike wearing this. Your pants are too big. I’m going to trip.”
“I didn’t finish.” His smirk was too big for his face. “That old barn holds a generator to power up the shooting range.”
“Shooting range? I don’t see any targets.” She peered at the weathered gray barn with nothing painted on its side.
“Come with me.” He crossed over to the passenger door and offered his hand.
Holding his hand, both to steady herself and because she loved the feel of his grip, she walked with him to a control panel on the side of the barn.
He unlocked it, checked a dial, and pulled a string several times on a contraption that was probably a generator. She wasn’t going to be embarrassed to ask—city girl that she was.
The engine sprang to life, rumbling and giving off gas fumes.
Jason went to the control panel and flipped switches. Whirring and clanking sounds of motors, belts, and equipment rattled among the weed-covered and rusted appliances.
Human-like pieces of rusted metal sprang up and moved from clump to clump, with various speeds. Some darted from their hiding places and disappeared around a corner. Others bounced up and down, appearing and disappearing behind an obstacle.
“I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“My derelict dad built this as a training range. It’s mine now.”
“It’s quite different from anything I’d expect.” She didn’t have the nerve to ask what his dad did before going to prison. “Do you rent it out or anything?”
“Thought about opening a shooting range someday,” Jason said. “Never had time to deal with the permits and regulations.”
He waved his hands at the tree line. “All that is private land. I could have trap and skeet shooting over that ridge. Build an indoor pistol range, and of course, have this obstacle course for moving targets.”
“Is that something you’ll do when y
ou retire from the NYPD?”
“Don’t think I’ll ever retire,” he replied glumly. “Come, I have a surprise for you.”
He left the human silhouettes moving and jumping in their tracks and led her back to the rental car. What could he be up to?
He popped the trunk and removed a small wrapped box. Dropping to one knee, he grinned and presented it to her.
“What is this?” Her heart catapulted to the roof of her mouth. He couldn’t possibly be proposing marriage, could he? The box was too big, but it could be one of those box-within-a-box gigs. “I should be giving you something for totaling your car.”
“You already have.” He put his hand over his heart. “You gave me your trust. Open it.”
She took the box and hefted it. It wasn’t too heavy, but it was solid. Her pulse racing, she untied the ribbon and lifted the gold-leafed lid.
It was a handgun—the one that fit her hand perfectly after she and Jason tried all of them.
“Your personal Smith & Wesson Shield.”
“I never got around to getting one. Thanks.” She took the gun from the box. The rounded textured grip fit her hand perfectly.
He got off his knees and pulled out the mags full of bullets. “Remember how to load it?”
“Yeah, I’ve got this.” She took the mag and shoved it into the bottom of the pistol grip. “Thanks. I love it. I was so nervous when you got down on your knees.”
“Why? Were you expecting something else?”
“Not so soon, no.” Her face burned, realizing what she’d admitted to. “I’ll have you know I want a long engagement.”
“I’ll promise you long, very long.” His drawl and grin were full of innuendo.
Should she be ashamed at herself? Flirting with this handsome cop while Brando hadn’t been dead a year?
Definitely, yes.
But at the moment, she was shameless, and dang it, she wanted to shoot.
“Let’s shoot.”
“Long and hard.” He lifted the lid to his waterproof pistol case and loaded his semiautomatic. “Let’s shoot.”
For the next two hours, Avery and Jason ran around the barn, shooting at the moving targets. Every time she hit one, she whooped and he let out a Bronx cheer.
“Well, eff you, too.” She blew a raspberry back at him when he pinged off the head of one of the rusted silhouettes.
They were both sweaty and flushed by the time the ammunition ran out. Her arm muscles felt like noodles, and she was panting from the tottering around on stilettos, which kept getting caught in the dirt. She ended up breaking both heels and tiptoeing on her soles, but the shooting had melted her jitters into jelly.
“O. M. G. Oh man, great!” she hollered as her last shot blew the rusted target’s head into a splash of slivers. She flashed him an OK sign and let him in on her secret twin handshake.
Jason gave her the A-OK sign, hooking the two O’s together. “O. M. B. Oh man, badass!”
Chapter Forty-Five
“Thank goodness you’re back,” Kerry greeted Avery at the door of her Manhattan apartment. “They won’t go away.”
“Who?” Avery peered over her shoulder and cowered back, bumping into Jason. Saul and Ivanna were in her apartment, sitting around her design table.
“What are they doing here?” Jason wedged his body between Avery and the two coconspirators. He advanced on them in an authoritative manner.
“We came to lay everything on the table,” Saul said. “We’re not the bad guys.”
Ivanna lurked behind him, blinking with a deer caught in the headlamp look. “I made all of the feather, fur, and scale headpieces you need, and I’m ready to work with the models again.”
Avery’s jaw dropped as she stared at Ivanna. “Are you okay now? How is it you were able to make all the accessories while in a coma?”
“You were never in a coma, were you?” Jason accused. “Filing a false police report is a crime.”
“I can explain,” Saul said, blocking Jason from Ivanna. “It’s all my fault.”
“I’ll agree with that,” Jason interjected. “I ought to have you arrested. Calling in the bomb threat is felony reckless endangerment.”
“He was only doing it to protect me,” Ivanna said. “He’s taking a big risk coming here.”
“Then let me ask you one question first.” Jason took out his notebook and pen. “Where were you on the night of last year’s Manhattan Fashion Week?”
Saul wrung his hands and looked at Ivanna, then at Avery, before casting his gaze down at Jason’s feet. “I was in the back row.”
“You were there?” Avery asked. “I thought you had an alibi.”
“I got my coworker to lie for me,” Saul said. “I knew something was going to go down, but I didn’t expect Brando to get shot.”
“We should all sit down,” Ivanna said. “When Saul and I put our heads together, we realized I was in danger.”
“Okay, let’s all sit and calm down.” Avery dragged Jason onto the sofa next to her. While she sagged onto the cushion, he remained perched on the armrest.
Kerry sat opposite to them on the loveseat, and Finn came out of the kitchen with a tray of veggies and fruit.
“Go ahead,” Jason said to Saul. “Do you mind if I record you?”
“Not at all. I know a lot of this might be illegal, but I’m worried about Avery’s safety. That’s why I called in the bomb threat. I wanted the venue moved because I suspected something was going to happen.”
“Why don’t you tell us what happened last year?” Jason prodded. “Then we’ll get to your speculations.”
Saul rubbed his palms on his jeans. “All of you know my brother, Garm, and my buddy, Hugh, died of overdoses after going to certain parties. The person who placed them at the parties is Alida Adams and the modeling side of it is represented by Ivanna’s sister, Clarissa.”
“It wasn’t Clarissa’s fault,” Ivanna cut in. “She wasn’t aware of the parties. She booked the models for their potential, but Alida was the one who gave them extra credit if they attended the parties.”
“Wasn’t Clarissa a party planner for a congressman?” Jason asked. “Sounds like she was doing double duty.”
“I don’t know,” Ivanna said. “She never mentioned that to me.”
“It was Alida who pressured the models to give the clients a good time,” Saul said. “My brother couldn’t bring himself to do some of the acts, so he was given drugs. Joselito told me they’d gone to a party where Avery’s professor was holding a fundraiser for Congressman Overton.”
“Overton was involved?” Avery felt her blood chill. “Was Richie at the party?”
“Joselito would know, but I’m assuming he was there,” Saul replied. “We don’t know who was responsible for my brother’s death, but we do know he wouldn’t have taken meth if Alida didn’t force him to work the parties.”
“Are you sure she forced him, or she offered him better placements if he attended the parties?” Jason asked. “I feel bad that your brother died, but he wasn’t a child, and he made his own choices.”
Avery winced at the suspicious way Jason viewed the situation. When it came to ambition, people gave up a lot of free will for a shot at success.
Saul shrugged and heaved a sigh. “Maybe it was childish, but the only way we could get back at Alida was to cause her events to fail. We badmouthed Ivanna’s sister and got our model friends to go to other agencies. Then we played pranks on Alida’s events. Someone let loose a swarm of cockroaches at the ribbon-cutting Alida set up for Mayor DeBrassos at Gracie Mansion. Someone else swapped all the model photos in Clarissa’s FacePlant account with farm animals.”
“Let’s get to the show last year,” Jason cut him off. “Do you know why Ernesto Gomez was there? Who hired him? Because shooting someone dead is a lot more serious than cockroaches and lipstick on a pig.”
“That’s what we can’t figure out,” Saul said. “Ivanna swears she saw Ernesto with a toy gun. She says it had
an orange tip.”
“Is that correct?” Jason barked sharply at Ivanna.
“I peeked out from backstage to watch Avery and Brando walk down the ramp,” Ivanna said. “Maybe it was all the cameras flashing or the lighting, but for some reason, I thought the gun was orange. I remember thinking it was part of an act.”
“This is serious,” Jason said. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because the police report says Brando was shot with an unregistered semiautomatic,” Saul answered for her. “It was in the news, and she thought she remembered wrong.”
“Why should we believe you now?” Jason focused his laser gaze at the shrinking woman.
“Saul told me last night that Ernesto was supposed to shoot poppers and scare the heck out of everyone. Cause a stampede. But when Brando died, everyone assumed Ernesto was paid to be a hitman.”
“Do you two have any idea who paid Ernesto?” Jason glared at both of the young people.
“No idea,” both of them replied.
“How about the person who grabbed the taxicab and tried to run over Avery and Matt?” Jason asked.
Again, both of them shrugged, looking at each other.
“Since you two are here, I want to clear up a few more details,” Jason said. “Saul, you were seen getting out of a black limo outside your apartment in Brooklyn. What did Larry Leach hire you to do?”
Saul had that trapped look on his face, as if he were deciding whether to lie or not. Avery was sure Jason didn’t know for sure if it was Larry or not, but Saul wouldn’t know.
“I was keeping tabs on people for Larry,” Saul finally answered. “I thought if I did that, I would know which model Larry is interested in hiring and be able to warn him or her not to go.”
“Did you find out anything? Who did you tail and report on?”
Saul darted a guilty glance at Avery, and she felt her anger burn. She was the one who wanted to give him a chance, and it turned out he was spying on her?
“Avery, Harv, Ivanna, and later on, you and your partner, Blade,” Saul finally admitted. “I realized Ivanna was in danger when I saw the sketches she’d taken from Avery’s design booklet.”
Triggered by Love Page 33
