Hidden Fire

by Jo Davis

  And when Julian had asked whether the older cops might remember any strange unsolved murders, Shane had reported that the homicide guy had cracked up laughing. He’d said San Antonio had more weird cold cases than warts on a hog’s ass. From what he’d found on the Internet so far, he knew that was true.

  “Maybe they’ll hit on something soon,” she said. “But I’m still afraid for you, staying alone. I wish you’d stay with someone, or check into a hotel.”

  “I’m not going to hide or put anyone else in danger.” He kissed her temple. “This will be over before you know it, you’ll see.”

  He’d sleep like crap, except for at the station, but she didn’t need to know that, either.

  “I wish we could go away somewhere and hide together. Like Bermuda.”

  “Me, too.” Releasing her, he glanced at his watch and made a face. “But I have to run or Sean will eat my liver with a nice Chianti.”

  “Call me if you get a chance?”

  “You bet.”

  He planted a blistering kiss on her pretty lips, just long enough to keep her wanting, then left before he wound up in trouble.

  The drive didn’t take long, the hour being early, and he made it to the station with ten minutes to spare. Of course, he hadn’t given much thought to what story he’d tell the team about the bandage around his arm. Well, he figured Six-Pack knew about the attack because Grace had probably told Kat. But he doubted the big guy had said anything to the others. As luck would have it, everyone was hanging out in the bay shooting the breeze when he arrived. All eyes swung to him as he strolled in, trying not to limp on his sore foot, but it was Eve who piped up.

  “What did you do to yourself?”

  Glancing at his arm, he made a show of shrugging it off. “Oh, I just tripped and fell in the bathroom, scratched myself on the corner of the counter. No biggie.” None of them knew his bathroom counters didn’t have any sharp corners—and he couldn’t have sliced the top of his bicep even if they did.

  The lame explanation seemed to satisfy everyone except Six-Pack and Sean, who exchanged a look but kept quiet.

  “Man, I thought Einstein here was the clumsiest guy I know,” Tommy joked, jabbing a thumb at Zack. “After these last few weeks, I’m not so sure.”

  Knight chucked a dirty rag at Tommy’s face. “At least I’ve got a hot woman to kiss my boo-boos, which is more than I can say for you.”

  Ignoring their antics, Julian walked inside, straight to the coffeepot, and poured a mug. Then he carried it into the common room, to the computer in the corner designated for general use. The machine was already on, and he launched the Internet browser, wondering how far he’d get before one of them came in and got into his business.

  Apparently not far, because the thought conjured Sean and Six-Pack, who stood over him looking worried as hell. “I’m fine,” he said before either of them started.

  “Howard told me because he thought I needed to know, and I’m glad he did. Do you want to crash at the ranch until all of this blows over? Or I can stay on your couch. The asshole takes three steps inside your condo, I’ll bash his skull in with a baseball bat.” Sean crossed his arms over his chest, expression fierce.

  “You’d do that for me?” He hadn’t meant to sound incredulous, but hell.

  “I still have a couple of redeeming qualities,” Sean said drily. “Loyalty to my men is one of them, even if I act like a dick most of the time.”

  Julian swiped a hand down his face, smiling in spite of himself. “Thanks, Cap, but I’m handling this.”

  “With that detective’s help?”

  “Yeah.”

  “All right, but the offer stands. You need anything at all, you’ll let us know.” An order, not a request.

  “I will.”

  Sean, never one to waste time on warm fuzzies, went to attend to other matters, but Six-Pack remained behind. Julian knew what was coming before he opened his mouth.

  “How are you, really? No bullshit.”

  No point in lying. Something about this man made others want to open up, always had. Even if it seemed Six-Pack was frustrated with him more often than not, Julian knew he cared. “Shaken,” he admitted. “I’m just an average Joe, never intentionally hurt a soul in my life, and it’s hard to take in.”

  “You have an idea why this person is after you?”

  “I figured you knew. Grace didn’t tell Kat, and so forth?”

  “Nope. Grace didn’t feel right about breaking your confidence. She only said you and Ford might have an angle, and that she’s terrified for you.”

  Damn. “I hate that she’s been exposed to this, Howard. I’d give anything if I could keep her out of this, but she won’t budge. And there’s something else. . . .” He met the man’s brown eyes, wondering whether he was about to get clobbered, saving his attacker any further effort.

  “You love her.”

  Julian winced. “How do you feel about that?”

  One corner of his mouth tilted up. “I suppose I’ll survive, but it’s not me you have to sell. Grace goes her own way, and nobody’s going to push her into something before she’s ready. Even you.”

  “Think I don’t know? She drives me crazy!”

  “She’s worth the wait.”

  “Yeah. Shit, what’s a poor bastard to do?”

  “Adhere to the primary rule of woman-taming—do whatever she wants. Happy wife, happy life.”

  “Sounds more like man-taming to me.”

  “The rewards are sweet, though.” He paused. “So, you gonna tell me what these attacks on you are about?”

  “No, because the more I say it aloud, the dumber it sounds. If I’m right, however, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Fair enough.” Howard looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t. “I’ll let you get back to the computer.”

  “Thanks for the ear.”

  “No problem. I’m here if you need me.”

  “I appreciate it. I’ll be out in a bit to help with breakfast.”

  Once Six-Pack was gone, Julian continued his mission of poking into the past.

  The answer might be one click away.

  If so, he or the police would find it.

  Something told him the answer had better come soon.

  Grace picked up the phone from her desk and placed a call that should not have thrilled the ever-loving hell out of her. But she couldn’t wait to wash her hands of Derek Vines and his filth by association.

  With all her soul, now more than ever, she believed he was guilty of sexual harassment. Probably worse. Her one consolation was that Hayden Madison was going to get every single dime he’d asked for, and then some. She’d made sure of it . . . with a discreet phone call to his attorney.

  She’d never used her position to stick it to a client before, and she hoped she never had occasion to do so again. She could get disbarred for this. In Derek’s case, though, she felt justified.

  “W. H. Vines, Derek Vines’ office,” his secretary intoned. “How may I help you?”

  “This is Grace McKenna, Mr. Vines’ attorney. I have a matter he’s been waiting to conclude, and I know he’ll want to take my call.”

  “Hold, please.”

  In seconds, the slimeball himself was on the line. “Grace! You have news?”

  “I do. Mr. Madison has agreed to a settlement. Come down to my office in an hour and we’ll go over it, and sign.”

  “Wonderful,” he breathed, his relief palpable. “Was it what we offered?”

  “No, I’m afraid not. We’ll talk when you get here, okay? Bye.” She hung up on him midprotest. Damn, this was going to be good.

  While she waited, she let her thoughts drift to Julian and how his day might be going. He seemed to be recovering from the attack, and it sure hadn’t affected his performance in the bedroom.

  Heat suffused her cheeks and she giggled, glad her office door was closed. Wouldn’t take long for her strange affliction to be correctly diagnosed, bringing Dadd
y on the run with a barrage of questions. There were some things daddies didn’t need to know.

  Such as what a masterful lover Julian was in bed, the only situation in which Grace enjoyed giving up control. He was fast turning her into a sex bunny, and she didn’t give two hoots. In all her life, she’d never enjoyed herself more.

  A knock on the door ended her reverie, and her secretary stuck her head in. “Grace, Warren and Derek Vines are here. I put them in the conference room.” Because nobody else could see, Alice scrunched up her face and crossed her eyes, the expression comical, giving her opinion of the two visitors.

  Grace stifled a laugh. “Thanks, Alice.”

  Gathering the necessary papers, she stood and walked the short distance to the conference room. Outside, she paused and mentally fortified herself against the double onslaught. She should’ve figured Warren would attend, as well, since Derek couldn’t take the proverbial shit without his being there to wipe it—and he was footing the bill.

  She walked in spine straight, head high, and closed the door behind her. The men rose, offering their hands. Neither man sported a brace or cast on his right wrist, nor any bruising, and she didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Of course, Julian’s attacker wouldn’t be identified so easily.

  “Gentlemen,” she said in greeting. And I use that term loosely. “Let’s have a seat and go over the settlement.”

  Derek leaned forward, elbows on the table, face anxious. “You said on the phone he didn’t agree to our original offer of seventy thousand. How much does he want?”

  Here we go. Schooling her expression to remain bland, she said, “Two hundred fifty thousand dollars, or he takes you to court.”

  A heartbeat passed, two, as they both stared at her, goggle-eyed.

  “Two hundred f-fifty thousand dollars? That’s insane!” Derek shouted. “That’s one hundred thousand fucking dollars more than he asked for to begin with!”

  My, you can add.“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  Warren shot to his feet, pounding a fist on the table. “That’s outrageous! We will not be bilked dry by a candy-assed little whelp spouting dirty lies about my son!”

  Clasping her hands in front of her, she gazed at him calmly before turning her attention back to Derek. “Hayden Madison feels he has an ironclad case should he take you to court. If you choose to go that route, he’s made it clear the sky’s the limit on the dollar amount he’ll seek.”

  “What? How?” Derek ran a hand through his hair, eyes wild. “It’s my word against his! How can he think he’s got a damned thing on me?”

  Wow, look at the vein in his temple pounding. If Derek had an aneurysm, poor Madison would never see his money.

  “It all comes down to skeletons, Derek.” She let the statement drop between them like a bomb. Both men glanced at each other, looking like they were about to choke to death. Well, wasn’t that interesting?

  “What—” Derek’s voice cracked. He paused and cleared his throat. “What the hell do you mean?”

  “Skeletons. You know, those bony things that rattle around in the dark, waiting to be unearthed at the most inopportune moments?”

  Warren lowered himself into his chair once more, narrowing his eyes at her. Careful, she cautioned herself. If they were indeed guilty of murder, she was treading a dangerous line.

  “I’ll be straightforward. Someone went to Mr. Madison claiming to have information on you. Damaging information, Derek. Mr. Madison and his attorney aren’t inclined to disclose their source or what he gave them, but they are confident they can prevail in court.”

  “So why don’t they?” Warren folded his arms over his chest, suddenly looking superior. “If they were so certain they’d win, we wouldn’t be sitting here.”

  She’d anticipated this question. “You’re forgetting the court costs and attorney’s fees eating up a healthy portion of the award. Now, let’s consider the potentially irreversible damage done to both Derek’s reputation and that of your company, whether Madison wins or not. W. H. Vines will be dragged through the mud in the media. Questions will be raised. Is that what you want?”

  Derek had gone as white as a sheet of paper. Warren was furious, but his anger was quiet now. A lethal entity reaching across the table, wrapping around her throat.

  This was the moment of truth. Would they buy the story she and Madison’s attorney had concocted? Apparently, Derek swallowed it whole. His face was a mask of pure fear, his emotions telegraphed for all to see. After they left, he’d drive himself insane trying to figure out who could’ve turned on him, ratted him out to Madison’s lawyer.

  Nothing left to do but deliver the final thrust.

  “How we proceed is completely your decision. You have to ask yourself how much it’s worth to make this all quietly go away. If you want to fight, I’ll do my best for you in court. Your call.”

  “What a goddamned choice.” Derek’s bitter laugh sounded more like a sob. “I’ll sign.”

  Checkmate.

  Warren’s expected second explosion didn’t come. His silence was unnerving, but she gave every outward appearance of ignoring him. “For what it’s worth, I think you’ve made the right decision.”

  A mound of paperwork and twenty minutes later, she straightened the documents and stuffed them into her file. They didn’t offer their hands again and she didn’t say it had been a pleasure. Even trade.

  “I’ll let Mr. Madison’s attorney know when they can expect the money. Good day, gentlemen.”

  Derek practically fled, but Warren paused in the doorway, glaring back at her, his eyes hard, glittering marbles. Though she met his gaze without flinching, her skin crawled and she had the sick sensation he saw right through her.

  Turning on his heel, he stalked out and she exhaled a deep breath she hadn’t known she was holding. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest and she felt dizzy. Maybe she needed lunch and, better yet, some fresh air. She had to get out of here for a while.

  First, she made a brief call to Madison’s attorney. “Bob, it’s Grace McKenna. I have good news.”

  As expected, the man was ecstatic. Recalling Warren’s parting stare, however, she gave Bob one piece of advice for his client—take an extended vacation, somewhere on the other side of the globe. As soon as possible.

  Grabbing her purse, she headed for the elevator, calling to Alice on the way by to let her know she was going out to grab a bite. She had to erase the stain left behind by Derek and Warren. A nice, brisk walk down to Second Avenue might do the trick.

  In the parking garage, she emerged from the elevator, and had taken only a few steps to cut across to the street when she heard voices raised in argument. Male voices.

  About forty yards away, standing between two parked cars, Warren was waging an all-out verbal assault on his son.

  Driven by instinct, Grace ducked behind a wide concrete support column, a nasty jolt of dread grabbing her at the thought of being seen. Why she didn’t simply stride past them like a normal person who had every right to be there, she didn’t know. But it was too late now and she was stuck here until they left.

  “. . . coming out of your trust fund, goddammit!” Warren railed.

  “Shh,” Derek hissed. “Someone might—”

  “Don’t dare shush me, you worthless little cocksucker,” he said dangerously. “You don’t know it’s Salvatore. What if Gruber has turned? Have you considered that?”

  “He wouldn’t!”

  Gruber? Who was he?

  “Are you willing to risk it? You have a hell of a lot more to lose than a quarter million,” he said with barely disguised loathing. “And something else—your inept lawyer has to be dealt with, and that fucking firefighter, as well.”

  “No! Not Grace! She doesn’t know anything!”

  Grace’s eyes widened and her hand went over her mouth.

  “You can pray she doesn’t. Or you can get rid of her and all the other deadweight before you’re buried along with it. Because when
someone goes down for all of this, it won’t be me.”

  One car door slammed and an engine started—Warren’s, she assumed. The other followed suit. She waited until well after both had driven away before she emerged from her hiding spot. Then she retraced her steps to her office, dodged Alice’s concern, shut the door, and sank into her chair.

  “What have I done?”

  Hand shaking, she picked up the phone.

  “Hey, Jules! Telephone!”

  Sandwich in hand, Julian strode into the common room, scowling at Tommy. “Damn, I’m right here. You don’t have to yell.”

  “Oh. Sorry, but it’s some chick. Sounds like she’s crying.” Skyler made a face. “Good luck with that, dude.”

  Crying? He swallowed his bite of turkey and Swiss, and reached for the phone. “Thanks, man.” All sorts of terrible visions flashed through his mind. Dios, maybe something had happened to Mama, or one of his sisters. He was in no way prepared for the hysterical voice on the other end. “Hello?”

  “Julian,” Grace sobbed. “I need to see you.”

  His heart damned near stopped beating. “Bella, what’s wrong?”

  “I’ve done something terrible! I shook the apple tree and rotten apples came down, and now they’re going to kill me and—”

  “Baby, slow down,” he said, trying to calm her when he was starting to panic. “You’re not making any sense.”

  “Warren and Derek Vines!” she wailed. “They’re going to take care of me and you along with all the other deadweight! I heard them!”

  Oh, my God. “Calm down, honey. Where are you?”

  “In my office.” In the background, she blew her nose, and stammered the firm’s address and her floor.

  “Okay, listen to me. I’m coming after you, baby, so you stay right there, you hear?”

  “All right,” she said in a small, scared voice.

  That frightened him more than anything—his confident bella, reduced to tears. Terrified, needing him. “Sit tight, I’m on my way.”

  Hanging up, he pitched the phone, not caring where it landed, and rushed to the captain’s office, dumping his sandwich along the way. “Sean, I have to go. It’s an emergency.”