by Cindi Myers
Marcus leaned forward to track where she was pointing. He nodded and leaned back again, totally casual. “We do, but we only hold them for about two weeks. Unless there’s some kind of incident. Then we label and store them.”
“Would you possibly have any from November of last year? November 7, actually?” Jackson said.
Marcus immediately answered. “No, sorry.”
“Are you sure?” Rhea asked, worried they were going to hit another dead end.
Marcus nodded. “I am. The PC for the recording system died on us right around then. Tech said it was toast and took it away. Set up a new system.”
“Is it possible he still has that failed system?” Jackson asked.
“Possible,” Marcus said and pulled open his desk drawer. He scrounged around, yanked out a wrinkled business card and handed it to Jackson. “Here’s his info. I’ll let him know you’re coming.”
“We truly appreciate that, Marcus. Thank you,” Rhea said, grateful that the man hadn’t been an obstructionist, which was what she’d been expecting after their earlier meeting with the gas station owner.
“My pleasure. Like I said before, we’re trying to clean this place up, so anything to support our local police department,” Marcus said as he rose and held his hand out to Jackson again. “I mean that, dude. You saved my life.”
Jackson clasped the other man’s hand in both of his. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well, Marcus. Just remember we’re all here for you.”
“You always were. If you don’t mind, I’ve got some things to do before lunch,” Marcus said and grimaced at the pile of papers on his desk.
“Totally get it and thanks again,” Rhea said and hurried from the office to the restaurant, picturing Selene there. Wondering if someone had approached her. Someone who had decided to take her.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Jackson said as they stepped outside and looked back at the pub. He smoothed a finger across the furrow in Rhea’s forehead.
“Maybe something happened to her here. Someone who thought she was here for a hookup and decided to make that happen,” Rhea said, worried that such an encounter may have turned into something violent.
“It’s possible, Rhea. Although we’ve never had that kind of problem here,” Jackson said.
Rhea crossed her arms and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. He hugged her close, offering comfort. Aware that, little by little, Rhea might be losing hope that Selene was still alive.
“Let’s hit the road and see the tech.”
The silence as they drove to the tech’s offices weighed on him heavily, because Rhea was hurting. Luckily the office was just a block off Main Street and, as promised, Marcus had called ahead. The tech greeted them with no hesitation.
“Marcus says you want to look at their old system. I pulled it off the scrap pile for you.” The tech walked to a large worktable in his back room. A computer tower sat there, a little dusty and worse for wear.
Jackson scrutinized it and then peered at the tech. “No chance of it working?”
The tech shook his head. “Tried, but there was a head crash. Head plinked around that disk like a marble in a pinball machine,” he said and mimicked something bouncing around with his fingers. “That’s why it was on the scrap pile. I keep the older units around in case I need power supplies, motherboards. That kind of thing.”
“Mind if we take it?” Jackson said, earning a puzzled look from Rhea, and he explained, “My cousins in Miami are tech savants. Maybe they can get something off the unit.”
“I’d be happy to pull the drive for you,” the tech said and went into action, removing it from the system and packing it up.
“Good luck with it,” the young man said and handed the box to Jackson.
“Thanks for all your help,” Rhea offered, and Jackson echoed her sentiments.
“We appreciate the assistance.”
Outside the tech’s office, Jackson paused by his cruiser and whipped out his cell phone, wasting no time to call his cousins. Robert answered on the first ring. “Cuz, long time no hear,” he said.
“Sorry, Robbie. I’ve just been a little busy. How are you and Sophie doing?”
“We’re doing well. Let me put you on speaker,” Robbie said and, a second later, the tone grew a little tinny as the speaker kicked in.
“I’m putting you on speaker also, Robbie. I have Rhea Reilly on the line with me. We’re working on a case together.”
“Hi, Robbie. Sophie,” Rhea said.
“Nice to meet you,” Sophie said. “What can we help you with?”
“You always cut to the chase, Sophie,” Jackson teased and plowed on. “We have a hard drive with a head crash that may have information we need.”
Robbie let out a low whistle. “Head crash is bad, man. That head hitting the disk probably took out some data.”
“Some, but not all I gather,” Jackson said, feeling optimistic that if anyone could get information from the disk it would be his cousins.
“Not all. Can you send it to us?” Sophie said.
“We can courier it to you for morning delivery,” Jackson said, and his cousins clearly understood.
“We’ll work on it immediately. Anything in particular?” Robbie asked.
“The hard drive was on a security system. We’re looking for camera images from November 7. Anything from about 7:30 p.m. to 9:00 p.m.,” he said.
“We’re on it, Jax. If we can’t get it for you, no one can,” Sophie said.
“Thank you. It means a lot to me, since it may help us find out what happened to my sister,” Rhea said.
“Family is important. Remember that, Jax,” Robbie said, guilt heavy in his tone.
Miami was so not his style, but he understood. “I get it. When I have a vacation coming up I’ll come visit my parents and swing by South Beach to see you.”
“We’ll hold you to that, Jax,” Sophie said, and then the line went dead.
Rhea narrowed her eyes and glanced at him. “Somehow I can’t picture you in South Beach.”
Jackson sighed. “A little too city, hot and humid for me, but my parents have a place not far from there, and my uncle married into a Cuban family in Miami.”
“And your cousins are there?” Rhea asked.
Jackson nodded. “Robbie and Sophie have their own tech company that develops apps and software, but my aunt’s family has this high-powered private investigation and security company. The Liberty Agency. Robbie and Sophie often help them.”
“I guess law enforcement runs in the family,” Rhea said as Jackson opened the door to the cruiser.
Jackson slipped back into the driver’s seat and, as he did so, he said, “And the military. Several of the members of the Gonzalez family that runs the Liberty Agency also served. Plus my Aunt Mercedes and Uncle Robert work for the NSA in D.C.”
“Wow. Super-secret shadowy types,” she teased.
He was about to start the car when a chirp announced he had a text message. With a quick look, he said, “Declan sent the photos of the bonfire.” He held the phone so she could see the first photo. But as they swiped from one to the other, it was clear that the results of their experiment were not close to the crime scene photos of Matt’s bonfire.
“There’s a lot of dark residue and...bones,” Rhea said with a frown.
Jackson nodded. “The experts pretty much told me to expect the residue from the body tissues.”
With a rough breath, Rhea said, “I guess the cremation theory is out, isn’t it?”
Jackson laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Tabled for now. Once we get this package off to my cousins, there’s not much for us to do. Maybe review the materials again? Call Avalon PD for updates.”
* * *
RHEA WASN’T SURE she could spend another night looking at the information and worryin
g about being disappointed or whether whoever was after her would try something else.
“I’d like to take the night off and return to Denver. Check in at my shop and maybe just get away from...everything,” she said, and at his crestfallen face, she realized he’d interpreted it to include him. Speedily she added, “You’re welcome to come with.”
Peering at her, gray eyes squinted, awakening lines at the corners, he said, “It makes sense, because I want to make sure you’re okay, but are you sure?”
She was and wasn’t and hated that she couldn’t figure out what she wanted with him. She punted and said, “You can use my guest room. Selene normally stays there.”
He hesitated, but then nodded. “Let’s get this package mailed and swing by my house to get our things.”
“Sure,” she said and sat there, anticipating what it would feel like to have him in her home. He was so big and masculine. Country. Her apartment was a lot like her. Artsy. Feminine. City.
In no time, they had run to the courier service and dropped off the hard drive, as well as made the trip to his house to pick up things for an overnight stay in Denver. Jackson also changed out of his police uniform into street clothes, and her heart did a little jump at the sight of him. The faded jeans hugged his powerful legs and trim waist. A pale blue button-down shirt brought out shards of blue in his gray eyes. But a loose denim jacket barely hid the bulge that told her he was wearing his holster and service weapon.
As they drove, she stayed silent, her thoughts bouncing around like the marble in the pinball game the tech had mentioned earlier.
She hadn’t really expected to be staying in Jackson’s home and the time spent there with him had provided her a whole new view of the detective she had nearly barreled over just a few days ago. He was a man who loved his family and obviously wanted one of his own, judging from the home he had built himself. He was honorable, even if it might cost him personally. And a leader, judging from the way Diego, Declan and even Marcus had assisted with the investigation. They clearly respected him, but he obviously cared about them, as well.
She was so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t realized they had entered the city limits until Jackson parked. They did the short walk to her building and she guided him toward the elevator at the back of the lobby. “I’m on the top floor.”
Jackson took the time to appreciate Rhea’s building. It was done in art deco style, with speckled black terrazzo floors and marbled walls. Sconces and other accents in shiny steel lightened all those dark colors as did the ornate wooden doors of the elevator.
As they stepped into the elevator, Rhea stuck a key into the panel to unlock the penthouse access and once they reached that floor, the elevator opened right into her home. A very feminine home filled with neutral-colored furniture with plush cushions and brightly colored accent pillows. The walls boasted an assortment of artwork, including some of Rhea’s pieces. He recognized them immediately based on what he’d seen on her website. The paintings had that passion and life that jumped off the walls and called to him to take a closer look.
“Do you like?” she asked, hands clasped before her. A nervous seesaw from side to side while she waited for his opinion.
“I love it. You make the image come alive,” he said and smiled. He turned and held his hands wide. “This is very nice. Full of life. Color.”
“Thank you. It’s taken some time to get it here, but I’m happy with it,” she said and visibly relaxed, holding out a hand to him, which he took in his.
“I can see why. I know it’s early, but how about a walk and dinner?” he said, splaying a hand across his stomach to hide the hunger grumble he felt building inside.
“I’d like that. One of my favorite places is just a few blocks away.”
“I want to get to know what you like. How you live.” She had intrigued him on multiple levels, from her determination and work on her sister’s case, to her strength while in harm’s way and the art on the walls that spoke of her passion for life. And, of course, the steel hidden beneath her delicate exterior that said she was the kind of woman he could have by his side. A woman who didn’t wilt when faced with adversity.
“Great. I think you’ll really like it.” She tugged on his hand gently to steer him toward the door. He went willingly, eager for Rhea to have a distraction from her sister’s case and the attacks against her, if only for the one night. Eager to get know more about her and how she lived.
Outside, they hurried away from the mall area and toward the Larimer Square historic district with its heritage buildings, eclectic shops and restaurants. With the warmer weather a number of the restaurants had created al fresco dining areas on the sidewalks. Edison lights had been strung overhead and across the street, creating a festive feel especially when combined with vibrant banners touting an upcoming music festival. Beneath trees boasting bright spring green leaves rested planters with vibrant blooms and small bushes that softened the urban feel of the buildings.
Rhea dragged him to the entrance to a steak place and, at his questioning look, she said, “I love a good piece of beef as much as you do.”
He swung her arm playfully. “I’d tell you I’m vegan, but you already saw me chow down at Deck’s.”
“I did, and I hope you’ll love this place also,” she said, and with another tug, urged him into the restaurant.
The host at the podium, a youngish man in his late twenties, raised an eyebrow as Rhea came in with Jackson. The man swung around the podium to give her an effusive hug. “Rhea! So good to see you! And who’s this?” he asked, shooting a warning glare in Jackson’s direction.
With a playful shove, she pushed the host away. “Easy, Randy. This is Detective Whitaker. He’s helping me with Selene’s case.”
Jackson shook the other’s man hand and tried not to be too stung that Rhea hadn’t said he was a friend. But then again, he wouldn’t be too happy about being friend-zoned, either, since he wanted more from her.
“Your favorite table is free,” Randy said, grabbed some menus and guided them to a spot right by the windows where they could have dinner and people watch, as well.
After they were seated, Jackson leaned close and over the top of his menu whispered, “If you and Randy—”
Rhea chuckled and skimmed her hand across his forearm. “He’s just a friend. A friend who’s probably way more interested in you than me.”
Jackson peered at the man, who smiled at him.
“Oh, okay. I was worried he might think I was competition or something.”
Rhea smiled, and it was the smile of a seductress. Her crystal blue gaze darkened and her voice was husky, sexy, as she said, “No one can compete with you, Jax.”
Wow, definitely not friend-zoned. “I can say the same about you, Rhea. My one wish is that we hadn’t met the way we did, but I’m glad we’ve met.”
“Me, too,” she said and set her menu down.
The waiter approached at that moment and said. “Good to see you again, Rhea. The usual?”
“The usual, Sam,” she answered and handed him the menu.
“What about you, sir?” the waiter said, his tone not anywhere near as friendly, warning that Rhea had another possible protector.
“The porterhouse. Medium rare,” he said. As the waiter rushed away to place their orders, Jackson picked up his water glass and glanced at her over the rim. “You have a lot of defenders.”
Rhea grinned and shook her head. “They’re just not used to me bringing a man here,” she said and then covered her mouth. He thought he heard her mutter, “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” It brought a smile to his face, since it made him special and since it confirmed that Rhea lacked guile.
He took hold of her hand. “I’m glad I’m special. I am special, right?”
With a chuckle, she twined her fingers with his. “And dense, if you don’t know that yet.”
> Sam, the waiter, returned with a wine bottle and made quite a show of opening it. “Courtesy of Randy. One of our best cabernets.”
They both offered their thanks, and Jackson took the first sip. “Excellent.”
Sam filled their glasses and walked away to give them privacy. Jackson raised his glass and toasted. “To friendship.”
She tapped her glass to his and surprised him again with her boldness. “To friendship and more, Jax.”
With a dip of his head, he said, “To more.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jackson lounged on Rhea’s sofa, his muscled arms resting along the top of the cushions. He’d taken off his denim jacket and carefully folded it to cradle the holster he also removed. The pile of the jacket and holster sat off to the side, a very masculine contrast to the brightly colored pillows tucked all around him.
Her belly was full with the fabulous filet mignon and wine she’d had for dinner, as well as the cheesecake slice she’d shared with Jackson. In truth, she was a little sleepy and, dare she say it, at peace for the first time in months.
Hard to believe, considering she still didn’t know what had happened to Selene and someone was trying to either kill her or drive her off the investigation.
But with Jackson there...
So many different emotions raced through her in addition to the peace. Comfort. Need, especially as he settled his gaze on her. His gray eyes were dark, almost black as he invited her to join him on the couch. Invited her to more.
She didn’t hesitate, taking hold of his hand and snuggling into his side, her head pillowed against his chest. His heartbeat loud and beginning to race beneath her ear.
He skimmed his hand across her hair, smoothing it. Slipping beneath the hair at her shoulders to her neck, where he massaged her muscles and then shifted his hand downward again to hug her close.
She snuggled in tighter and higher, until her lips were barely inches from his. Laying her hand on his chest, she pressed upward to trace the edge of his jaw with her mouth. Beneath her hand, his muscles tensed.
