He stalked over to his bike, his cell phone heavy in his pocket. While he could ditch the phone on the way, he trusted Shane had a decent cover in place for him. If the cop probed too much, they’d need to create a deeper history for Matt Dean the ex-marine. He didn’t have time for this crap.
Laney had been fine earlier, so it was doubtful anything had happened to her. Even so, his gut began to churn as he started the bike and drove onto the road.
The main street of town was quiet, and the storefronts sparkled with clean windows. He arrived within minutes at the one-story log building that housed the sheriff’s office.
The sheriff and his deputy, a guy who looked to be about twelve, followed him into the station. A teenager sat behind the receptionist counter, popping a bubble from purple gum. She waved at the sheriff.
The guy sighed under his breath and gestured Matt down a hallway to a comfortable conference room with a stunning view of the mountains out the window. “Have a seat, Mr. Dean.”
Movement sounded down the hall, and Laney walked closer with Betty right behind her.
Relief filled Matt that was out of proportion with the reality of how long he’d known the woman, so he frowned.
Laney’s pale face illuminated her wide green eyes. “Claire Alps is dead.”
“Shit,” the sheriff muttered. “Why are you still here?”
“Are you all right?” Matt asked.
She nodded. “No. Somebody killed Claire last night.”
What the hell? Matt pivoted to face the sheriff. “How did she die?”
“Sit down.” The sheriff widened his stance.
Matt eyed the gun and then focused on Laney. “Wait in the reception room for me, and I’ll drive you home.” He turned into the comfortable room to sit down.
“No.” Laney strode into the room and sat in an adjacent chair. “You’re my employee, and I’m staying.”
The sheriff scratched his head. “I need to speak with Mr. Dean alone.”
“About what?” Laney lifted her chin.
“About his whereabouts last night,” the sheriff said.
“He was with me. All night.” A very pretty blush wandered over her high features.
Something slammed into Matt’s gut with the force of an anvil. The sweet woman was defending him. Nobody but his brothers had ever stood up for him, and even though he didn’t need her assistance, he couldn’t help but smile. Who was this woman?
The sheriff’s gaze narrowed with a calculating light. “Very well. You can stay.” He turned toward Betty, whose eyes had widened at the news. “My deputy will give you a ride home.” He shut the door with a decisive click.
He sat and pressed his palms against the table. “Mr. Dean, run me through your night.”
Matt did so, impressed with the sheriff’s calm gaze and lack of notes. The guy didn’t need notes. Finally, he wound down with his return to the bar.
The sheriff lifted his head. “It took you an hour to change a tire?”
“No. It took me an hour to take both ladies home and change a flat tire,” Matt said calmly.
“You have a record, Dean?” the sheriff asked.
“No.” He believed his new cover remained crime free.
“Would you mind giving DNA so I can rule you out?” The sheriff tapped his fingers on the table.
“I would mind.” Matt flashed a smile. “No offense, Sheriff, but after my time overseas, I don’t exactly trust everyone involved in the system.”
“I can get a warrant.” The sheriff focused on Laney.
“Go for it,” Matt said. The authorities lacked enough probable cause for a warrant, but that didn’t mean a local judge would refuse to do the sheriff a favor. They couldn’t get Matt’s DNA, that was for damn sure. Not that they’d do the tests that would show the abnormality of his creation, but still. Nobody could get his DNA.
“I will get a warrant.” The door opened, and a deputy handed the sheriff a manila envelope. The sheriff sat back, his chair creaking. “Now tell me again, how long have you been in town?”
“A few days.”
“Where did you wander before you arrived here?” The envelope crinkled when the sheriff dropped it on the table.
“I’ve been all over the States.” Matt leaned back and slid an arm across Laney’s chair.
She jumped. What in the hell was wrong with her?
“I see.” The sheriff turned the envelope upside down and dumped out a bunch of notes, each in a plastic bag. “Did you write these?”
Laney went completely still next to him.
Matt picked up a bag to read a handwritten note: You look beautiful today.
“Definitely not,” he said quietly, reaching for more notes. All had poetic and slightly creepy messages. Nothing threatening, but an underlying danger hinted in the simple words. “What are these?”
“They were in Claire’s house. We don’t know how long she’d been receiving them.” The sheriff focused on Laney. “Are you all right?”
“No,” she breathed, her eyes wide on the notes. “I’ve been receiving notes, too.”
Matt frowned as the world narrowed to the small woman now under his arm. “Where are the notes?”
“At home.” She shrugged forward, looking soft and vulnerable. “I’ve received two of them. One on my car, and one at the bar. Sometimes I feel somebody watching me, but I figured it was my imagination.”
“Why didn’t you file a report?” the sheriff asked.
She sighed, and her gaze dropped to the table. “The notes seemed dorky, and I figured some goofball admirer wrote them. I did tell Smitty.”
Yeah, like the sweet old guy would provide much protection. Matt leaned into her space. She was hiding something. “Could the pharmacist have sent them?”
“Greg?” the sheriff asked, even as Laney shook her head.
Laney shook her head. “I don’t think so. I mean, he’s socially awkward, and we did go on one date, but I think he’d sign any silly note he left.” She picked at a loose string on her jeans.
Matt kept his face blank. Why hadn’t she gone to the police? If she’d been frightened, she should’ve filed a report. Was it the loan shark she’d borrowed money from? If so, he needed to take care of the situation. It was the least he could do.
Well, after he took out whoever was threatening her with the notes. They’d spent a night together, and she’d burrowed deep into the realm of the few people he cared about. While they didn’t have a future, they had a present, and nobody was going to hurt her in it. No matter how oddly she was acting. “Let’s retrieve your notes for the sheriff.” He pushed back his chair.
“Hold on a minute. How do I know you didn’t send the notes?” the sheriff asked quietly, his gaze hard.
Laney swiveled to look at him.
Matt frowned. “I just got into town. Why would I send notes?”
The sheriff’s gray eyebrow rose. “As far as we know, you’ve only been in town a few days. Maybe that’s your MO. You arrive in a town, case it, send out weird notes, and kill people.”
Laney swallowed. “That’s crazy.”
“Exactly.” The sheriff shoved away from the table and stood. “I need your fingerprints, Dean, to use as a comparison for the prints we’ve taken from Claire’s home.”
“No.” Matt stood and assisted Laney to her feet.
Laney faltered. “They’ll find the prints anyway.”
Not likely. He was always careful not to leave his prints anywhere. The second they turned up in the system, the commander would find him. While that showdown was coming soon, Matt wanted to control the location and timing. “That’s all right.” He took her elbow and steered her toward the door.
The sheriff blocked the path with his large frame. “It wasn’t a request.”
Enough was enough. Matt slid Laney to the side and stepped into the cop’s space, glaring down at least five inches. “Either arrest me, or get the hell out of my way.”
The sheriff held his gaze
for several tension-filled moments. Finally, he stepped to the side. “Fine. Don’t leave town.”
“I have no intention of leaving town.” At least not until he figured out who was stalking Laney.
“You know, there was no forced entry at Claire’s. She let in whoever killed her.” The sheriff peered around him. “You’re in danger, Laney. Probably from this guy. I can tell you, after years in the military and then as a cop, this is a guy who’s dangerous.”
She looked Matt up and down, her green eyes softening. “I know.”
Laney tucked her arms around Matt’s rib cage and fought the urge to trace the abdominal muscles beneath his thin T-shirt as he steered the motorcycle toward the bar. Her mind whirled, and nausea filled her stomach.
Who had killed Claire?
Sure, Matt had taken the woman home. But that type of a beating took some time—more than an hour. Though Matt was incredibly fit and probably well trained. Darkness and secrets lurked in his gray eyes. Could he torture a woman in such a manner?
The night they’d spent together had revealed a lot about him. He’d been sweet, kind, and gentle. But an underlying tension, a sense of a contained animal, lurked within his hard body.
Even so, she was struggling to connect what she knew with what she’d felt during their short time together. He appealed to her baser nature and made her want to hope. To hope for something good, for something right, to emerge from the hell of real life.
The wind rushed through her hair, slapping her face. Sighing, she tucked her cheek against his broad back, allowing him to shield her. For the moment. When they arrived at the bar, they needed to talk.
They arrived too soon, and he assisted her off the bike. “Get the notes,” he said quietly.
She stumbled. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t issue any more orders.”
He swung his leg free and loomed over her. “That was before last night.”
She backed up and tilted her head to better view his face. “Last night didn’t change anything.”
It was a challenge, and a good one. His eyes darkened to the color of a stormy sky right before thunder rolled. “Bullshit. Last night meant something, and you know it.”
Vulnerability flashed across his strong face that gave her pause and cooled her temper. She sighed, her mind calculating best-case scenarios. “Okay. Last night meant something. But not forever, and one night of intimacy certainly didn’t give you the right to boss me around. My life is private.”
He dragged a hand through his thick hair, ruffling the mass. “Listen, Laney. Your life is private, but I’m about the best trained investigator you’ll ever meet. If somebody is threatening you, which we can now see is happening, you have to let me take them out.”
She stilled. “You mean turn them in to the police, right?”
He remained silent for several beats. “Right.”
A chill wandered down her spine, even as intrigue focused her thoughts. What would it be like to be loved by a man like Matt Dean? Probably overwhelming, safe, and exasperating. Surprise filled her at how appealing the thought suddenly became. But he wasn’t for her.
“Stop shaking your head at me,” he muttered.
“Then stop giving me orders.” Make that all exasperating. She pivoted and yanked open the front door to the bar.
“I want to read the notes before we take them to the sheriff,” Matt said, on her heels.
She reached the bar, leaned down, and secured the two notes. “Knock yourself out.”
He took the notes, carefully reading each one. “I also want the name of the loan shark you used to buy the bar.” His attention remained focused on the papers.
She stilled. Shit. “No.”
“Yes.” He didn’t look up.
“No.” She’d only given him half the story, and no way could he find out the rest. She had to believe he was one of the good guys, and she would not rain down trouble on him. He seemed to have enough of his own.
He glanced up, the angles of his face seeming sharper. “I want the name of the loan shark.”
“My life, my issues.” One night with the guy, no matter how amazing, didn’t create obligations. “Sorry.”
“We’re not finished with this discussion.” He studied her. “Do you have a copier in the office?”
“Yes. The printer copies and scans.”
“Good.” Turning on his heel, he disappeared into the office, returning mere minutes later. “I made copies for us, and now you can call the sheriff to pick these up.” He rubbed his chin. “How well do you know Dr. Tasha Friedan?”
“Why?”
“She’s the local coroner. We should go meet her and find out more about Claire’s death.” Matt tucked the copies in his back pocket.
Laney blinked several times, trying to focus. “Why? I mean, why are you suddenly so involved here? Last I heard, you were passing through town.”
“Now I have my teeth in a mystery about somebody I care about.” He spoke quietly and with calm control. “I know I’m passing through town, but I’m not leaving until you’re safe, and you won’t be safe until we catch this guy.”
Sweet. The words were so sweet. For the first time in much too long, Laney felt like she was on the inside… and not alone. Which was false, because he didn’t know her. He couldn’t. “I can’t ask you to go after what appears to be a murderer.”
His grin flashed strong teeth. “Honey, after what I’ve seen, one little murderer in a small town doesn’t faze me much.”
“What have you seen?”
His smile slipped away. “Nothing I’d want you to hear about.”
“My life hasn’t always been safe. This isn’t anything new.”
“One loan shark after you isn’t as scary as a guy who sends notes and kills people.” Matt leaned forward, his jaw firming. “I promise you’re safe. I won’t let anybody get to you.”
Warmth slid right under her heart. “One night creates such loyalty from you?”
His upper lip quirked. “No. But one night with you creates such loyalty.”
Desire burst through her veins like a robust bourbon. “You’re a dangerous man, Matt Dean.”
“You have no idea, sweetheart.” He nudged the original notes across the bar. “Why don’t you call the sheriff to pick these up, and we’ll go talk to Tasha. Please? I’d like to get a handle on this case.”
Going on instinct, she nodded. If something was going on, she needed Matt’s assistance. “Let me run upstairs and get a jacket. I, ah, appreciate your help.”
He leaned in for a quick kiss that warmed her head to toe. “Anytime, green eyes. Anytime.”
Chapter 11
Matt waited until Laney had run upstairs before yanking out his phone and dialing his brother. The security checks took a bit longer, since apparently Shane was tweaking the system. Finally, he could talk.
“I need a deeper cover,” Matt said.
“How deep?” Shane asked, the sound of typing keys echoing over the line.
“Deep enough for possible fingerprints.”
Quiet reigned for a moment. “Do we need to extract you?”
“No, Sally. I’m fine—just make the portfolio deep. The local sheriff will be running my name at the very least. If he can find a judge buddy to sign a warrant, there may be an arrest and DNA issues.”
“Get out of town. Now.” Shane’s typing stopped.
“Can’t. I think I found the surgeon and will go confirm now.” Plus, he wouldn’t leave Laney in danger.
The outside door opened and Smitty strolled inside, wearing his usual suspenders and bright flannel shirt.
“Gotta go.” Matt hung up and leveled a look at the bartender. “Claire Alps was murdered last night, and apparently she’d been receiving notes similar to the ones your boss has been receiving.”
Smitty stopped short. “Really?”
“Yes. Any clue as to who’s been sending them?”
“No.” Smitty rubbed his belly. “Shit.”
> “What’s the name of the loan shark Laney used to buy the bar?” Matt asked.
Shrewd blue eyes narrowed. “She told you about the loan?”
“Yes.”
“You think the notes might be related?”
“No clue. But I’ll take care of the problem regardless.” Matt kept his voice mild and truthful.
Smitty grinned. “You got money to take care of it?”
“Yes.” And he did. “Family money.” True enough. “It’s the least I can do for her. I don’t need the money and will probably never use it.” If the loan shark didn’t take cash, he’d no doubt want to live.
“She let it slip one day the guy’s name was Joe-Joe from Philly.” Smitty shrugged. “Don’t tell her I told you. She’d probably be pissed.”
“I won’t say a word.” Matt walked around the bar and headed for the front door. “Have Laney meet me outside.” Stepping onto the sidewalk, he quickly dialed Nate’s number.
“This is Vinnie’s Pizza,” Nate drawled.
“How’s business?” Matt asked.
“Just fine. A bit slow, but I’m hoping a new advertisement brings in business.”
So Nate hadn’t found anything but did have a new lead. “Good. Ah, I need a favor.”
“Anything for my favorite pepperoni salesman.”
What a smart-ass. “How secure are we?”
“Completely. Shane set me up with a new system,” Nate said.
“Then why the fuck are we talking about pizza?” Matt asked.
“Why not?”
“Jackass. I need you to pay off a loan shark named Joe-Joe in Philadelphia. How soon can you be there?”
“Five hours.” Birds squawked in the background and a door closed. “Who borrowed money?”
“Laney Jacobs.”
“Who the hell is Laney Jacobs? The surgeon?” Nate asked.
Hell, no. “She’s a friend.”
Only chirps from birds came over the line for a few moments. “What kind of a friend?”
“A friend I want to help. Pay off whatever her debt is,” Matt said. They had tons of money from their security business, and Nate had invested the profits extremely well.
Sweet Revenge Page 11
