“It's safer if you go by yourself and make the payment. We don't want to rile them up by bringing along anyone else.”
Safer for whom? She had to be nuts to show up at the Wharf at one o'clock in the morning to pay off Ronnie Devlin, a lowlife criminal who had an arrest record as long as her arm. Not that she hadn't done worse, she fumed. Over the years her brother had asked her to save him from the fire more times than she could count. The worst incident had involved bail money, an emergency trip to Tijuana and a DUI charge. She was no longer surprised at her brother's lapses in judgment, just profoundly disappointed. It was stressful enough trying to hide the situation from her parents, not to mention the endless worrying over his reckless lifestyle.
As she stepped out of her red Lexus onto her pebbled driveway Marissa couldn't resist admiring her unique home. She'd purchased the yellow Victorian with the sea blue shutters three years ago, shortly after opening her own real estate agency, Santana Properties. At the time it had been a wreck of a place, having been written off as a hopeless case by its owner, Willie Davies, who was eager to sell the place and “be rid of it.” Over the span of two years she'd lovingly restored it to its former glory, painting the exterior and interior, gutting the kitchen, the master bath and bedroom and refurbishing it from top to bottom with plush furniture, jazzy artwork, one-of-a-kind antiques and gleaming mirrors. It was her pride and joy, a testament to her determination and dedication to hearth and home. As soon as she unlocked and pushed open her front door the smell of vanilla greeted her like an old friend. As a woman, Marissa loved sensory stimulants – soaps, perfumes, candles and incense.
As a realtor she knew the importance of a good smelling home. There was an old trick in the real estate business involving the scent of baked apples and chocolate chip cookies hovering in the air as a potential buyer walked through the home. These smells evoked images of warmth and contentment, thereby making the potential buyer feel an immediate connection with that particular home. Marissa had utilized that old trick more times than she could count. And more times than not it worked like magic. As realtor of the year for the third year running, she could testify to the fact that a realtor had to use every gimmick at her disposal to move the houses.
She wearily pushed the button on her answering machine, mentally noting that a realtor's work was never truly done. There were always clients looking to make contact with her it seemed, no matter what time of the day or night. She chuckled out loud as she recalled the time an anxious buyer had contacted her in the middle of the night to make an offer on a house. She couldn't help but shake her head as she listened to a message from her ex-boyfriend, Christopher, who happened to be in town and was wondering if they could “get together.”
“Not in a million years,” she said in a snide voice as she recalled all the drama Christopher had put her through during their year long relationship. There were also a half dozen messages from her brother, who'd apparently been trying to reach her all day on her landline prior to his contacting her via cell phone. There was a heartwarming message from Mama requesting her presence tomorrow at Sunday dinner and a separate message from Daddy telling her he was worried about Tony.
“So what else is new?” she muttered, wishing her parents didn’t have to worry about her brother. She was beginning to think nothing would ever change with him.
She closed her eyes and prayed. Lord, please show Tony the way. I’m scared for my brother. He needs to grow up and embrace a new path. He needs You in his life. He needs to change before everything catches up to him. I pray he finds You before it’s too late.
After checking her messages, Marissa glanced at her watch, letting out a loud groan as she realized that she had approximately three hours to unwind and take a cat nap. She treated herself to a warm bubble bath and then dressed in her most comfortable sweats and t-shirt, settling into a deep sleep on her Queen sized mahogany sleigh bed. All too soon her alarm went off and by force of habit she hit the snooze button. Ten minutes later she was out the door with a wad of cash from her emergency fund neatly tucked in her front pocket.
Although she had no intention of getting out of her car once she arrived at the The Limelight, Marissa intended to deliver a scathing message to Ronnie when she hand-delivered the cash. She'd practiced her speech in her head at least half a dozen times. She was going to tell Ronnie Devlin that if he ever so much as looked Tony's way she was prepared to alert the authorities to the fact that he was running an illegal enterprise. “No one messes with my family, Ronnie,” she murmured as she drove the deserted back roads toward the center of town. Ronnie Devlin. She'd known him since she was in kindergarten, and he'd always been trouble, in and out of wayward youth programs since he was a young teen. As an adult, Ronnie had been in trouble with the law more times than Marissa could count. His future didn’t look bright.
The Limelight was a deserted two story building that most people in town wanted to see condemned and demolished. When she was in high school it had been a popular hangout for the over twenty-one crowd who gathered at the club to listen to music and learn the latest dance steps. A firestorm had erupted when a sixteen-year-old girl was assaulted at the club after being drugged in one of the back rooms. The Limelight had never recovered from all the bad publicity and the torrent of negative public opinion. Located at the Wharf, the Limelight was now a local hangout for criminal minded individuals looking for nothing but trouble. At the moment it seemed deserted.
Impatiently, she drummed her nails on the steering wheel. It was already ten past one. She had no intention of sitting around all night waiting for a no good bum like Ronnie. Where was he anyway? No doubt he was somewhere up to no good. There were two other cars parked in the far corner of the lot, she realized, so it was possible that he was inside the building. Matter of fact, the yellow SUV with the gaudy rims looked familiar. She could've sworn she'd seen Ronnie riding around in it a few months ago. Figures he'd buy the flashiest car on the lot.
She had a good idea that he was inside the building, but there was no way she was getting out of the car to find out where he was. Mama hadn't raised a fool...or had she? She was stuck down here at the wharf at one-thirty in the morning doing a fool's errand while Tony was getting his beauty rest. That fact alone had to make her some kind of fool.
Her love for her brother had landed her in this predicament! She found herself getting drowsy and her eyelids began to close against her will. I'll just rest my eyes for a minute, she thought, as she drifted off to sleep. Just a few minutes of rest and then I'll be all ready to deal with Ronnie.
A loud popping noise rang out in the stillness of the early morning. Her eyes swung open and she looked around the car in a panic, searching for signs of an intruder. What was that noise? She looked outside the car as another loud popping sound went off. Her heart began to thud with dread as the realization hit her that the noise sounded like a gunshot. She'd watched enough Law and Order to know the sound by heart. Although the night was pitch dark, a fluorescent street lamp illuminated two figures, both male, standing in the back entrance of the building. She leaned forward in her seat so she was pressed against the steering wheel and squinting out the window.
One of the men was Ronnie! She would know that egg-shaped, bald head anywhere. She watched in horror as Ronnie clutched his chest and a crimson stain began to spread across his bright orange shirt. He staggered briefly, then fell to the ground in a crumpled heap.
She let out a scream and her horn began blaring as her body pressed against the steering wheel.
A man stepped from the doorway and turned towards her, his gun raised and pointed directly at her. Marissa screamed as a bullet shattered the windshield of the vehicle parked next to her. She revved the engine of her car and reversed it at break-neck speed down the pebbled road, her tires whirring with activity. A pinging sound hit the front of her car and she kept her foot on the gas, gunning it till she hit the street.
She barreled down the road for a half mile, letting
out a frightened scream when she saw headlights in her rear view mirror. Marissa kept her foot on the gas pedal, increasing her speed by the second. She was pushing eighty mph, crying and praying at the same time, desperate to make it to the main road in order to stay a safe distance from the car behind her.
A sense of relief flooded through her when she saw the flashing red and blue lights behind her. She pulled her car over to the shoulder and let out a ragged sigh. As she let out an “Hallelujah!” she watched in her rear view mirror as a familiar figure got out of the squad car and headed in her direction. There was no mistaking the jet black hair, the massive build and the deep scowl that had settled in on his face. Once again she was plunged into a nightmare. Rescue had come by way of Sheriff Matt Cruz.
Chapter Two
It was three in the morning, and by all logic he should be asleep in his bed at this hour, Sheriff Matt Cruz reasoned. Instead, he was in the squad room, trying to figure out how Marissa Santana had gotten herself involved in the town's first murder in over sixty years. After stopping her doing eighty miles an hour in a forty-mile zone, he'd been shocked to hear she'd witnessed a shooting at the Wharf. From the moment the story tumbled off her lips, he'd never doubted for a second her version of events. He'd immediately called for backup at the The Limelight, dropped Marissa off at the station and then headed back to the crime scene to meet the medical examiner. And now he was back at the station questioning his star witness about what had transpired this evening.
He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes focused on Marissa's wild-eyed appearance. Despite the fact that she'd been at the scene of a shooting and chased by a killer, the woman looked pretty pleasing to the eye. He hated to admit it, but she was attractive. Beautiful, actually. Her chocolate brown hair was styled in a riot of long, beautiful waves that looked natural rather than processed. Her almond shaped eyes were a light brown color – caramel, perhaps. Her skin was an olive color, and it was flawless and smooth. Although she was a tiny thing she was definitely curvy, he noticed. Yes, she was definitely a looker. He let out a snort. Not that he would ever be interested in a woman who spread lies all over town and couldn't stop gossiping. Not in a million years.
“So what exactly were you doing in that part of town?” he asked, wanting to cut to the chase.
Matt watched as her face began to flush varying shades of red. His lawman antenna went up as she stammered her response, all the while avoiding eye contact with him and his deputy.
“A-An errand. I was running an errand for a friend.”
“An errand?” Matt asked, his voice laced with skepticism. “On the wharf in the wee hours of the morning? At The Limelight? Try again, Miss Santana. And this time, stick to the truth.”
“Easy, Sheriff,” cautioned his deputy, Beau Scott. “She's not looking so good.” Beau reached out and patted Marissa reassuringly on the back, a look of concern deeply etched on his handsome face. With his tousled blonde hair, dimples and ice blue eyes, Beau possessed an easy, boy- next-door charm that gave him an appealing air. According to the ladies in town, Beau was husband material. Beau was a solid guy, which was one of the reasons Matt had asked him to be a member of the group he and Caleb had formed along with their friends, Tanner Hawkins and Eli Somers—Guardians, Inc. They had formed the enterprise to give protection to anyone who required their services. Both Matt and Beau were already employed in law enforcement, while Caleb, Eli and Tanner were devoted to the idea of protecting citizens who found themselves defenseless.
Marissa smiled weakly in response to Beau's kindness. “I'm okay, Beau. Much as I hate to admit it, the Sheriff's right. I had no business being in that area of town, specially not at one in the morning. I-I was doing a favor for my brother, Tony-.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Matt spit out the words. “What kind of brother...excuse me, but what kind of man asks a woman to risk her life doing his dirty work?”
“It wasn't his idea, it was mine,” Marissa said in a firm voice.
“Your's?” Matt asked with a raised eyebrow. “Who were you meeting? Spit it out.”
“His bookie,” she whispered, looking as if she wanted to pull back the words once she'd spoken them. “The deceased.” Marissa continued, “He-we were afraid that if Tony showed up himself to make the payment he would get hurt, possibly even killed. So, I went instead.”
“Yeah, Miss Santana, you showed up instead, walking straight into the middle of a homicide.” Matt held his head in his hands and groaned. “Briarwood hasn't had a murder in over sixty years. Congratulations, Miss Santana, you've made town history.”
“It’s not something I’m proud of,” she spit out, her eyes glinting with a hint of rebellion.
He gritted his teeth. “What went down tonight could be tied to organized crime. There's a coldblooded killer out there who we need to find. You're up to your eyeballs in this, Santana.”
She raised her hand to her throat. “Are you trying to suggest I had something to do with Ronnie's murder?”
“No, of course not. I would never blame our star witness. What I am suggesting is that it's mighty convenient Tony sending you in his place, wouldn't you say?”
“Tony isn't your concern, Cruz,” Marissa said in a frosty voice.
Matt leaned down so that he was eye to eye with Marissa. “Tony isn't exactly a law abiding citizen, not as long as I've been Sheriff. More times than not he's up to his elbows in shady dealings. In case you haven't noticed, Miss Santana, I take my job very seriously. You tell that brother of yours to keep his nose clean. He ought not to leave town in case we want to pull him in for questioning.”
She visibly bristled and got up abruptly from her chair. “I take it I'm free to leave?”
Matt nodded and said, “You're free to leave, but don't-.”
“Leave town. I get it,” she snapped.
“We'll need you to come back tomorrow to look through some mug shots. See if it jogs your memory about the shooter.”
“I can't remember his face,” Marissa explained. “It's all fuzzy.”
Beau added, “We got a general description though – tall, olive skinned male with a slim build.”
“Sounds like half the male population in town,” Matt said with an edge to his voice.
“I told you his face is a blur to me. If I could ID him I would.” Marissa's voice was strained and she looked as if she was close to cracking.
Matt counted to ten then softened his tone. “You're a little shaken up tonight. Get some rest then come back in the morning with a fresh outlook.”
“I've got to show a listing in the morning. I'll try to swing back around lunch time.” Marissa picked up her keys from Beau's desk and said, “That's the best I can do.”
Beau stepped forward and held Marissa's elbow as she exited the room. “Would you like a ride home in the squad car? It's no problem,” he asked eagerly.
Turning towards him she flashed him a shaky smile and said, “Thanks, Beau. I'm good from here. My car's right outside.”
“You're sure you don't want a lift home in a police car? You look a little off-kilter,” Beau said.
“No, I'll be fine.” Marissa gave Beau a weak wave and disappeared from the room.
Beau watched with hawk eyes as Marissa walked down the corridor and exited the building. He raced to the window and peered out into the pre-dawn darkness, his eyes peeled on Marissa as she made her way toward her car, got in and rode away from the station. Matt watched Beau, feeling slightly irritated at his concern for their star witness.
Matt slammed his folder down on his desk. “She could've gotten herself killed out there tonight. Foolish woman! Every time I turn around I hear folks saying how successful and brilliant she is. Briarwood's businesswoman of the year. Realtor of the Year. The Junior League's Woman of the Year.” He rolled his eyes wearily and shook his head. “Judging by what went down tonight, that woman doesn't have enough sense to come in out of the rain during a lightning storm.”
/> Beau frowned at him. “You're riding her a bit hard, Sheriff. You can't blame the woman for being kindhearted. That's how she is...kindhearted.”
Matt glanced over at his deputy, noting the sheepish smile on his face and the dazed look in his puppy dog blue eyes. “Careful now. You're wearing your heart on your sleeve, Beau,” cautioned Cruz.
Beau turned the color of steamed beets and began to hem and haw. “It's not like that.” He ducked his head down. “Okay, I admit it. I'd date her. She's classy, intelligent and beautiful. Who wouldn't feel a little something for Marissa?”
“You're looking at him,” Matt said bluntly.
“Come on, Sheriff. I don't care what you say about Marissa Santana. She's the whole package. Admit it.”
He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “I don't like women who kiss and tell, if you know what I mean.”
“If she kissed me I wouldn't care who she told,” Beau said with a chuckle. “Matter of fact, I wouldn't mind if she took out a full-page ad in the Briarwood Gazette and blabbed it to the whole town.”
Matt snorted. “You're twisted, Beau. Truly twisted.”
“She’s a little slice of heaven.” Beau had a sappy grin plastered on his face.
Matt grunted and made a face. “Hush. I'm trying to eat a sandwich here.”
A knock sounded on Matt’s office door. Deputy Evie Jones sauntered into his office, her stride sure and confident. Her round, caramel colored face was devoid of any makeup, yet striking in its simplicity. Evie was a good looking woman, but she had a tendency to be bossy and blunt, two characteristics that made finding male companionship difficult, if not impossible in Briarwood.
Although Evie addressed Matt with her comments, her eyes immediately focused on Beau. Lately it seemed to him that Evie spent a lot of time talking about, staring at or asking questions about Beau. One of these days he was going to have to talk to Evie about her crush. It was unprofessional. As the Sheriff of Briarwood it was his duty to make sure that all his staff handled themselves in a diligent and trustworthy manner. How would it look if two of his deputies were making goo goo eyes at each other and falling for one another? Ridiculous. Everyone would start making jokes and assuming the two were romancing each other while on duty. He could just hear all the jokes about deputies engaging in hanky panky in squad cars. He wasn't having it. The reputation of the sheriff’s office was sacred.
Guarding Her Heart (Guardians Inc. Book 1) Page 2
