The Lady in Red & Dangerous Deception

by Linda Turner

  Her eyes widened, the words dying on her tongue as she looked up into her ex-husband’s furious face. “Jeff!” Straightening in shock, she blurted out, “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you,” he said through his teeth. “I want to talk to you.”

  Taken aback by his hostile tone, Sabrina blinked in surprise. Jeff was a man who prided himself on his self-control. He didn’t get angry—he just got very very quiet, and his gray eyes took on a coldness that chilled you to the bone. But something had his shorts in a twist. From the looks of the hot, red flush staining his cheeks and throat, he was more interested in yelling at her than talking, but she wisely kept that thought to herself. One wrong word just might push him over the edge and she had no intention of doing that while they were the object of at least a dozen curious pairs of eyes.

  Rising to her feet, she forced a smile. “Why don’t we talk outside? Would you like a Coke or something from the break room?”

  “No.”

  So much for good manners. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  Her curiosity killing her, she led him through the maze of corridors to the rear door that opened onto the parking lot, where they wouldn’t be disturbed. Before it had even closed behind them, she was demanding some answers. “Okay, Jeff, let’s have it. What’s going on?”

  “What’s going on?” he echoed, outraged. “Don’t you dare stand there and pretend to be Miss Innocent! You know damn well what’s going on. You told the police that I was threatening you!”

  “What?”

  “You heard me,” he growled. “A Detective Kelly showed up at the office this morning asking questions about my whereabouts last night.” A pained expression crossed his thin face just at the memory of it. “I don’t have to tell you what Mr. Druthers thought of that. I spent two hours in his office trying to explain myself, and I don’t even know what this is about. If this costs me a partnership…”

  The phrase was an old familiar one that left Sabrina cold. A partnership. It was all he’d ever thought of when they were married, all he’d ever wanted. A lawyer with one of the oldest, most prestigious firms in the city, Jeff would have sold his own mother to get in the firm if he thought Mr. Druthers and the other partners wouldn’t have severely disapproved.

  “I’m sorry you were inconvenienced,” she said coolly.

  His eyes glacial, he sniffed, “‘Inconvenienced’ doesn’t begin to describe what you did to me.”

  “I didn’t do anything. Louis was the one who mentioned your name to the police, but only because someone had broken into my house and he saw someone in the neighborhood who favored you.”

  She tried to tell him that she had become the unwitting target of a serial killer, but as usual, he wasn’t interested in anyone but himself. He didn’t even hear her.

  “Wasn’t it convenient that you had an ex-husband to blame?” he said snidely. “So what can I expect next, Sabrina? The police showing up at my house? Searching it? Just because you’ve gotten mixed up with a sick character who’ll do anything to get his name in the paper? I don’t think so. I won’t have it. Do you hear me? Whatever your problems are, you keep me out of them.”

  For a man who never broke a sweat if he didn’t have to, he stormed off with an amazing amount of energy. Watching him disappear around the corner, Sabrina could only shake her head. She’d actually been married to that pompous ass for two years. What had she ever seen in him?

  Her temples starting to throb, she headed back inside and told herself to forget him. She could not, however, forget what had brought him back into her life. The killer. For all she knew, he could be watching the parking-lot exit, waiting for her to leave. He would follow her, of course, all the way to Blake’s if she wasn’t careful.

  Sick, her nerves jumpy at the thought of playing cat and mouse with a man she couldn’t name or put a face to, she considered the idea of working late. But what good would it do? She would have to leave eventually. It would be better to do that now than after dark when she couldn’t see who might be watching her, tailing her, from a distance.

  Still, that didn’t make driving out of the secured parking lot any easier. Her heart in her throat, she turned left instead of right, away from Blake’s apartment, then spent the next half hour trying to make her way unobtrusively back to it. It was nerve-racking business. By the time she finally pulled into the apartment complex and pulled the door down on Blake’s private garage, hiding her car from prying eyes, she was shaking.

  Deep down inside, she found herself hoping that Blake would be waiting for her in the apartment. She hadn’t seen him all day, not even when she’d gone to Comanche Courts to cover the drive-by, and as much as she hated to admit it, she’d missed him. She wanted to see that crooked grin of his, that spark of devilment in his eyes, and, just for a minute, walk into his arms and feel them close around her. Later, she would deny it, but for now she just needed to be held.

  But when she unlocked both locks and pushed open the door, she knew before she ever stepped over the threshold that he wasn’t there. The apartment was too quiet, the air too stale. She’d turned off the air-conditioning when she’d left that morning, and the place was like an oven. Disappointed, she shut the door and shot the dead bolt home and tried to find comfort in the sound of it clicking into place.

  Instead, all she felt was lonely, and that horrified her. Flipping on the air conditioner, she told herself to knock it off. Just that afternoon, she’d had an excellent reminder of why she didn’t need a man in her life. She was just like her mother and grandmother when it came to the male of the species—she was a lousy judge of character. If she didn’t want to be married a zillion times like they had been, then she was going to have to resign herself to living alone. That didn’t mean she couldn’t be attracted to Blake or enjoy his kisses. She had the same needs as any other woman. She just had to be on guard and make sure her romantic heart didn’t trick her into thinking there was anything more between them than physical attraction.

  Satisfied that she’d finally resolved that issue, she headed for the bathroom and a cool shower in the hopes that it would wash her nagging headache down the drain. It didn’t. She knew it was just a combination of exhaustion and tension, but she found it impossible to relax. For her own safety, she was virtually a prisoner here until the following morning, and the walls were already beginning to close in on her.

  Outside, the sudden yapping of what sounded like a terrier broke the quiet. Figuring it belonged to one of Blake’s neighbors, who was no doubt walking the dog after it had been locked up in the apartment all day, she strolled over to the window and looked out. The dog was nowhere in sight, and at first glance, the street outside the apartment seemed to be deserted except for tenants on their way home from work. Then she saw the man blending into the shadows beneath an Arizona ash tree across the street.

  He was just standing there, during the hottest part of the day, watching her.

  Chapter 8

  “You ought to go check on that girl and make sure she’s okay.”

  Hardly tasting the meat loaf his grandfather had made for supper, Blake only grunted. Pop had been hounding him about Sabrina from the moment he stepped in the front door from work, blatantly playing matchmaker, and had no idea how close to success he was. Over the course of the day, he’d had to force himself to stay away from her, to let someone else cover stories where he knew he might run into her. Knowing Adam or one of his men was watching over her had eased his mind considerably, but not enough. He wanted to see her with his own two eyes, touch her, pull her into his arms and assure himself that she really was okay.

  Which was why he was staying the hell away from her.

  His jaw set, he pushed the food around on his plate, his appetite nonexistent. It was that late-night phone call that had done him in, he decided, and knew he had no one to blame but himself. He’d lain on that torture device that was disguised as a bed in Pop’s guest room and listened to her murmur in his ear, his body h
ard and aching and hurting. Given the chance, he’d have done it again in a heartbeat.

  And that was what had him worried. She’d gotten under his skin, into his head, and was in danger of worming her way into his heart, and he couldn’t just stand by and let it happen. He’d learned the hard way that you never really knew a woman, no matter how good a friend or lover you thought she was, and that wasn’t a lesson he had to learn twice.

  So he was staying well away from Sabrina Jones. He’d done what he could to make her safe; that was all he could do. From here on out, she was on her own. If he couldn’t sleep for thinking about her, well, that was just too damn bad.

  “I just don’t understand you,” his grandfather complained. “In my day, when a lady was in trouble, a man didn’t leave her to fend for herself. Have you even talked to her today? How do you know she’s not lying dead in a ditch somewhere?”

  “She’s fine, Pop.”

  “You don’t know that. What if that bastard who’s leaving her all those notes found out she was staying at your place? He could have surprised her like he surprised those other women.”

  Knowing how his grandfather would jump to all the wrong conclusions, he hadn’t meant to tell him about his arrangement with Adam, but if he didn’t, he’d hound him until he finally gave in and gave Sabrina a call. “That’s not going to happen, Pop—”

  Scowling at him, he growled, “And just how the heck do you know that? She’s a gutsy girl—”

  “Too gutsy for her own good sometimes,” Blake agreed. “Which is why I called Adam Martin today.”

  His mouth already open to argue, his grandfather snapped it shut as his green eyes started to twinkle. “You put a P.I. on her? Oh, boy, are you going to be in hot water when she finds out!”

  “Hopefully, she’ll never know,” Blake said just as the phone rang. Glancing at his grandfather, he lifted a brow. “You want me to get that?”

  “Yeah, it’s probably your mother. She calls just about every day at this time to remind me to take my blood-pressure medicine. You’d think I was a senile old man or something,” he grumbled.

  “You?” Blake laughed as he rose from the table. “You’ll be as sharp as a tack when you’re a hundred, and you know it.” Snatching up the phone, he said, “Finnigan residence.”

  “Blake, is that you?”

  Recognizing Sam Kelly’s voice, he stiffened. “Yeah, Sam, it’s me. What’s up?”

  “I thought you’d want to know that Sabrina just placed a 911 call from your place. Evidently she spied someone watching her from across the street. I’m heading over there right now.”

  Blake’s heart stopped in midbeat. “I’ll meet you there.” Hanging up, he hurriedly told his grandfather what was going on, then headed for the door. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

  He drove like a madman, breaking every posted speed limit without a thought, just daring a cop to try and stop him. But if there were any black-and-whites in the vicinity, he didn’t see them. Within three minutes of rushing out of his grandfather’s house, he braked to a rough stop in front of his apartment.

  In spite of the fact that he’d made the short drive in record time, Sam Kelly was already there. His unmarked car was parked at the curb across the street, the portable red light he’d slapped on the roof whirling. He was standing in the shade of an Arizona ash talking to a man who was dressed like a jogger in T-shirt, shorts and running shoes. One look at him and Blake knew the fat was in the fire. It was Adam Martin.

  “Well, damn!” Muttering curses, he got out of his pickup and crossed the street, a sheepish grin curling the corners of his mouth as he approached the two men. “I guess I don’t have to introduce you two. Dammit, Adam, you weren’t supposed to let Sabrina see you!”

  “I know,” he said with a grimace. “I blew it. But I wasn’t expecting her to be staring out the window. I was just going to sit under the tree and pretend I was catching my breath, but she caught me looking. The next thing I knew, the police were driving up. I’m sorry, Blake. I guess you’re going to have to tell her now, huh?”

  “If he doesn’t, I will,” Sam said, shooting Blake a reproving look. “You should have told her the minute you put somebody on her tail.”

  “I didn’t think it would be necessary. Anyway, she never would have agreed to it.” Glancing up to the apartment’s living-room window, he wasn’t surprised to see Sabrina standing there, a worried frown furrowing her brow. “Who’s on the next shift, Adam?”

  “Mitch Hawkins, then Don Sanchez,” he said, then gave him a description of both men. “I take it you’re not going to pull them?”

  “Hell, no. She’s not going to like it—in fact, I can pretty much guarantee she’s going to read me the riot act—but that’s just too damn bad. She’ll be safe, and that’s all that matters. Well, I’d better get this over with.”

  Amused, Sam drawled, “If she tosses you out the window, at least there’ll be a witness to call for an ambulance. Keep up the good work, Adam.”

  Blake’s mouth twitched, but he wasn’t smiling when he crossed the street and took the stairs to his second-floor apartment. If all she did was toss him out the window, he’d be damn lucky.

  Standing at the window, watching the three men laugh, Sabrina frowned as Blake crossed the street toward the apartment complex. When she’d seen Sam drive up, she’d expected him to immediately arrest the man across the street posing as a jogger, not chat with him like this was old home week. Couldn’t he see the man was definitely stalking her? What in the world was going on?

  Troubled, she was seriously considering going down there to find out for herself when there was a knock at the door. She didn’t have to check through the peephole to know that it was Blake. Crossing to the door, she snatched it open. “Thank God you’re here! I was just going down there,” she said as she pulled him inside. “Who is that man? I couldn’t believe it when I looked out the window and saw him watching me. Why isn’t Sam arresting him?”

  “It’s all right. It’s not what you think—”

  Turning back toward the window, she hardly heard him. “I’ve had this feeling all day that someone was following me. It was like an itch at the back of my neck. I thought I was going crazy, then suddenly, there he was. He never tried to get into the apartment, but he scared me to death.”

  “I’m sorry about that. I should have told you—”

  Frustrated, she cried, “What does he want? He just stands there….” His words suddenly registering, she whirled back to face him. “What do you mean, you should have told me? Told me what?”

  He hesitated, and when he did, a flush started at his throat and slowly worked its way up to his face. Sabrina didn’t like the suspicions suddenly stirring in her head. Her eyes narrowing dangerously, she stepped toward him. “What have you done, Nickels? What do you know about that man down there?”

  There was no help for it—he had to tell her. “He’s a friend,” he began reluctantly.

  “A friend!”

  “His name’s Adam Martin. We went to college together.”

  “College,” she repeated, sounding like a broken record. “You went to college with a stalker?”

  Here it came. Bracing himself, he said bluntly, “He’s not a stalker. He’s a P.I. I hired him to watch you.”

  “You what?!”

  “I hired him—”

  She waved him off, not needing to hear the words again.

  Stunned, outrage and confusion warring in her eyes, she just stared at him. “Why? Why would you do such a thing? Who gave you the right?”

  “No one, but—”

  “You’re damn right no one did!” Working herself up into a fine temper, she started to pace, muttering half to herself. “God, I can’t believe you did this! Jeff, yes—he didn’t think I had the sense to get off the tracks when a train was coming. But I do the same work you do, go to the same sleazy places in this town that you do. I’ve never been hurt, never been shot at, never even been scared. But
you think I need a bodyguard.”

  Blake told himself to keep a tight rein on his own temper. She was entitled to her anger. He just had to let it blow itself out. But damn, he didn’t like being compared to her jerk of an ex-husband in any way, shape or form. “You never had a serial killer after you before, either,” he pointed out tersely.

  “Whether I have or haven’t isn’t the point. You had no right!”

  “I don’t see it that way,” he said flatly. “Three women are dead. Three women who were probably just as independent as you are. Right or wrong, I wasn’t going to stand around flat-footed while you became the fourth, so I did something about it.”

  Her hands on her hips, she glared at him. “Without so much as a by your leave.”

  It wasn’t a question, but an accusation, and he didn’t flinch from it. “You’re damn right. It was easier that way. You would have just given me a hard time about it when there was nothing left to discuss. I hired the tail and I’m the only one who can fire him.”

  Too late, Blake realized he probably should have found a more diplomatic way to put that. It was nothing less than the truth, but he didn’t have to rub her nose in it. She started to sputter, her brown eyes sparking fire. He should have been backpedaling, trying to soothe her ruffled feathers, but instead, he found himself perversely struck by the humor of the situation. Grinning, he said, “Go ahead and blow a gasket, but if you’re going to get mad, get mad at the right person. This is all your fault.”

  That stopped her in her tracks. “My fault? How the heck do you figure that? You were the one who took it upon yourself to hire that man,” she snapped, motioning in the general direction of the street. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Except bring out the caveman in me.”

  The admission came out of nowhere to steal her breath. Caught off-guard, her heart lurching in her breast, Sabrina blinked, sure she must have heard him wrong. “I beg your pardon?”