by Suzanne Rock
“Scarlett!” Violet raised her eyes in mock surprise. “I’m not that kind of girl.”
“Sure, you aren’t.” I chuckled and eased her toward the exit. “Just figure it out.” Ever since the first day of their monthlong relationship, Patrick had seemed infatuated with Violet. Unfortunately, Violet saw him as little more than an interesting diversion. While she didn’t care much for the man, she had told me that the sex was incredible. The two of them had been doing it like rabbits for weeks. The vacation at his parents’ house must have really put a damper on the relationship.
“I’m on it.” Violet pulled out her phone and began tapping as she walked toward the doors.
I turned to Gabe. “I want you to go to our section and try to keep Bridget entertained.”
He frowned. “How am I supposed to do that?”
I smirked. “I’m sure you’ll think of something. If we are stuck next to her, then I want to know what she’s planning to do to attract customers and have something in place to counteract it.”
He nodded. “Okay. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to go to the front desk and try to get them to move us somewhere more . . . quiet.”
“And if they can’t?”
“We’ll just have to roll with it, I guess.” I let out a long breath. “I have to admit, this is a bad stroke of luck, and it couldn’t come at a worse time. Let’s just hope that I can convince them to move us without much fuss. I’d rather not lose all of my potential customers to Bridget.”
“You’ll do fine, I’m sure. You’re Scarlett Bishop.” I smiled as he kissed my forehead. “You’ll have everyone eating out of your hands by the time this show is over. Just wait.”
I chuckled and pushed him away. “Stop flattering and go to our spot. We don’t have much time.”
“Yes sir, general, sir.” He gave me a fake salute, which made me laugh. Shaking my head, I turned and made my way to the front desk. There, a short blonde in a tight, button-down shirt and ponytail snapped her gum and looked up at me. “The show doesn’t open for another two hours.”
“I know. I’m one of the exhibitors.”
She raised her brows and straightened in her chair. “Oh, I’m sorry. What can I do for you?”
I put on my most placating smile and leaned over the counter. “I was wondering if you could change my spot on the exhibition floor.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. That plan was set in stone. The brochures have already been made up.”
“Perhaps you could make an announcement.”
“Even if we could, there’s nowhere to move you to. All of the spots are filled.”
“Are you sure? Perhaps someone backed out at the last minute.”
“No one backed out.”
I let my smile fall. “You didn’t even check.”
She waved at the computer. “I can’t get into the system. My computer is locked until it’s time to open, for security reasons.”
I straightened and crossed my arms. “Then I’d like to talk to someone who can help me.”
“I’m sorry, everyone is busy, Ms. . . .”
“Bishop. Scarlett Bishop.”
She widened her eyes and stood. “Ms. Bishop. I had no idea.” She stumbled a step back and swallowed her gum. “I’ll get my boss. It will only take a few minutes to track her down.”
I gave her a curt nod. “I’ll wait.”
She hurried away, her gray pencil skirt sticking to her legs as she moved. Sighing, I turned and face the open foyer, then scanned the waiting crowd beyond the big double doors. Mystique had grown over the years, and the best thing that they had done was to open the art show to the public. In five years, it had grown into quite the place to be. People camped out the night before just to be one of the first to see the cutting edge of the contemporary art world. Recently, thanks to the terrorist threats, security posts had been added, and now the public lined up in front of them, chatting and waiting for admittance.
While Mystique had always been popular, there seemed to be more people today than in the past. That was probably thanks to the murder the night before. The public always loved a good scandal. It was a shame that it took someone’s death to attract such a large crowd.
Sensing someone come up behind me, I started to turn back toward the front desk. Something clamped down hard over my nose and mouth, cutting off my air. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. Warm breath brushed against my neck as an arm tightened around my rib cage. I flailed my arms as someone pulled me back behind the large potted plant in the entryway and out of the view of the public.
“Quiet.” A low, masculine voice whispered past my ear. It sounded slightly familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I tried to move, but he tightened his grip and managed to lock my arms into place. I closed my eyes as panic welled up and froze my brain. I couldn’t move, couldn’t even think. Oh God, what was happening to me?
He leaned his temple against the side of my head. “You have become quite a bit of trouble, little girl.” He tilted my head back so that my chin was in the air. Panic sliced through me as I fought his grip on my arms.
“You and your boyfriend should know better than to poke your nose in where it isn’t wanted.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, nor did I care. I just wanted to get away. Unfortunately, that seemed to be impossible at the moment.
“We can’t have you stumbling around and messing things up on us, can we?” He slid his hand down to my hip and curled his fingers into my flesh. “Pity. You are such a lovely thing. Perhaps under different circumstances . . .” He shifted his hand at my jaw, producing a small pill. “But alas, such things were not meant to be. Know this, my dear. Your death will be the one that I regret the most.”
I widened my eyes as he moved the pill toward my mouth. Hadn’t Henri been killed in a similar fashion? I had to do something, and fast. If only I was wearing something more appropriate than a dress and heels—
Heels! He had secured my arms, but not my feet. Lifting my heel, I brought it down hard on his foot, causing him to yelp. His grip immediately loosened and I stumbled away from his body, desperate to get away. Unfortunately, the potted plant impeded my movement, and I fell head-first into the palm leaves as I tumbled to the ground.
Pain exploded across my skull as the loud crash filled the air. I winced and grabbed the back of my head as several staff members of the convention center moved around me.
“Are you all right?” the woman from the front desk asked, as her face filled my vision.
“What happened?” asked another, much older woman, who looked to be her supervisor. How embarrassing.
“The man,” I choked out.
“The man?” someone asked.
“There was a man,” I said as pain pulsed through my body, leaving me disoriented.
“She was hit in the head,” the older woman said. “She’s hallucinating.”
“There’s no one here,” someone else said.
Shit. How could that be? “Gabe,” I whispered. He’d know what to do. “Someone get Gabe.” God, my head hurt. Squeezing my eyes shut, I curled up into a ball and whimpered as every muscle in my body ached.
Who was that man, and why did he want me dead?
Chapter Eleven
Gabe
An announcement was made, and the large double doors opened, welcoming the crowd into the convention center. My heartbeat quickened as I made my way through all of the people streaming through the art show entrance.
“Out of my way, coming through,” I said as Violet followed in my wake. She had been able to secure a sign from Patrick and was scheduled to pick it up within the hour. It would be a little tight getting it here before our section of the convention center opened, but the woman was determined to make it. After securing the sign, she helped me sweet-talk Bridget into spilling the details of her sales tactics. I could see why Scarlett liked Violet so much. Her assistant was not only loyal, she knew what she was talking about. She also did
n’t trust me, which was wise. If I were her, I wouldn’t trust me, either. While I wasn’t out to hurt Scarlett, they couldn’t possibly know that. To them, I was a gigolo, and she didn’t want me breaking her friend’s heart.
“What happened?” I asked as I made my way to the center of the crowd and knelt down next to Scarlett.
“Oh my God, Scarlett!” Violet shoved me aside and took her friend’s hand. “What happened?”
Scarlett winced and tightened her grip on her friend. “I fell over the potted plant there.”
I frowned at the palm on the floor, its dirt spilled over onto the plush, gray carpeting.
“I guess I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” She cast me a wary glance. “It was stupid, really.”
It was then I noticed the red marks on her cheek. If she tripped over into the plant, she wouldn’t have those red lines on her skin. It looked as if someone had tried to suffocate her.
As if sensing my gaze, she turned her head away from me and cleared her throat. “I just want to get out of here.” She motioned to the crowd around her. “I need to gather my pride a little before our section of the convention center opens.”
“Sure thing.” Violet glanced at her watch. “Oh damn, I need to pick up that sign.” She flashed Scarlett a worried look. “Patrick is a good twenty minutes away without traffic.”
“You go,” Scarlett said. “I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know.” Violet bit her lower lip, considering.
I glanced at Scarlett. More was going on here than she was letting on. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to get the entire story as long as we sat here in front of an audience. “I’ll take Scarlett to get some coffee while you get the sign,” I offered. “We can meet back here before the show starts.”
Violet nibbled her lower lip. “I’m not sure. Perhaps I should stay.”
“No, that sounds like a good idea.” Scarlett flashed me a grateful look before focusing on Violet. “We need that sign, and there’s no one I trust more than you.” She patted Violet on the arm. “You go.”
“At least, let me help you to stand.”
Violet took one arm as I took the other and we helped Scarlett into an upright position.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Violet asked.
“I’ll be fine.” She tightened her grip on my arm. “I have Gabe.”
Violet frowned and stepped back. “Okay. If you need anything, just text.”
“I will.”
I waited until she started toward the door before I turned to Scarlett. “Can you walk?”
“Yes. I think my pride is hurt more than anything else.”
I nodded and turned toward the crowd. “Okay, show’s over.” As the people started to disperse, she tugged on my arm. “Gabe—”
“Not here.” I tightened my grip and steered her toward the door. “Let’s get you some coffee first.”
We navigated the sea of people and made our way to the sidewalk. I knew of a small coffee shop a short distance away from the convention center and hoped that it would be open. As we walked, Scarlett became eerily silent.
“You have some marks on your cheek,” I said in as casual a tone as I could manage. The angry lines were already fading, but just seeing them there made me angry. The sooner I found out what really happened, the sooner I could focus my rising frustration on something useful.
She raised her hand to her face. “I’m not surprised. Someone pulled me from behind and tried to suffocate me behind the plant.”
I stopped walking and stared. “What?” It was what I had guessed, but part of me had hoped that I was off, that it was a lie. Now, hearing the words from her lips caused my brain to freeze up with hatred and thoughts of revenge.
She blinked up at me, and I could see the tears forming in her eyes. “None of this makes any sense.”
“Someone tried to kill you?” My head was starting to work again, but it still felt as if I was in a fog. Turning back toward the convention center, I briefly considered searching the place for the intruder, but too much time had passed. The person had probably slipped into the crowd outside and was long gone. No, running around wasn’t going to help Scarlett, and leaving her alone could quite possibly put her in more danger. I flexed my fingers as I turned back to her and told myself I needed to get the whole story out of her before I started running around and punching things like a lunatic.
She nodded. “When that didn’t work, he tried to feed me a pill.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “He almost succeeded.”
“He?”
“A man, yes, but I’m afraid I didn’t get a good look at him. His voice sounded familiar, though.” She nibbled her lower lip in thought. “I think . . . I think he was at the party the other night.”
I glanced around at the people passing us on the sidewalk to make sure no one was paying attention. After confirming no one was watching, I took her arm. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the hospital.”
“No.” She pulled her arm away. “I don’t want to go there. Not yet.”
“Scarlett.” I inched closer and lowered my voice. “Someone attacked you.” My cover didn’t matter anymore. The case didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was making sure Scarlett was healthy and finding the bastard who did this.
“I know. It’s just . . . I’ll have to tell them what happened and then they’ll want me to talk to the police. There has already been so much negative publicity surrounding my gallery. I don’t want to draw any more attention to myself. At least until after the show.”
“You’re insane.” And I was in over my head. If this guy was the same person who had killed Henri, then Scarlett was in a lot of trouble. I needed backup, and she needed around-the-clock protection.
“Gabe, please.” She touched my arm. “I could really use that cup of coffee.”
I steeled my jaw and considered my options. At the very least, I needed to make contact with Sal at the station. They needed to be informed of this new development. If the killer was attempting another hit so soon, then that meant that he was getting nervous. That, in turn, meant that we were on the right track. Now, more than ever, I was sure that the key to solving this case laid with Scarlett.
“Okay, we’ll get a cup of coffee, then we’ll go from there.” I wasn’t going to commit to not going to the police just yet. God, there was so much to think about, so many puzzle pieces that weren’t fitting together. I needed time to sort things out.
Perhaps Scarlett was right. Perhaps a cup of coffee was what we both needed right now.
Taking her arm, I steered her toward the coffee shop, settled her by the window, and went up to the counter to order two large cups of coffee. As I poured in the cream, I caught her hugging her middle as she looked out the window at the people outside. She looked so fragile and delicate. Part of me wanted to swoop her up and take her somewhere safe, somewhere far away from this place and these people. Now that she was a target, she was in constant danger, and it was up to me to keep her out of harm’s way until the killer could be brought to justice.
Which meant that it was more important than ever that I focused on this case. After I got Scarlett settled, I’d need to check in with Sal and set up a meeting with Jake. As much as I hated working with Haussler, it was time to call him in on this. I needed his help if we were going to catch this guy in the act.
But first, Scarlett. I needed to make sure she was okay before I did anything.
Tossing the stirrers into the trash, I covered the to-go cups and brought them over to the table.
“Here.” I placed the coffee on the table and slid into the seat across from her. “I hope you still like it the same way you did in high school.”
“Cream and lots of sugar.” She smiled down at her cup. Grasping it with both hands, she took a long sip of the warm liquid and closed her eyes. Satisfaction spread over her features, making me smile.
“It’s that good?
” I asked as I opened the top of my paper cup. Despite passing this place hundreds of times, I had never stopped here. I took a sip, and, while it was good, I didn’t find it anything to write home about.
“You have no idea.” She opened her eyes and looked down at her drink. “Bridget taught me to drink coffee black.”
I frowned. “Why?”
She shrugged. “Cream and sugar are empty calories.”
I leaned over the table and winked. “But delicious calories.”
She smiled. “Yes. Very delicious.” She took another sip as I leaned back in my chair and studied her curvy frame. I couldn’t believe that Bridget would force her to drink something she didn’t like, or would make Scarlett self-conscious about her weight. The more Scarlett drank from her cup, the happier she became. Wasn’t personal happiness better than pleasing others?
I paused with the cup to my lips as an image of my father in a hospital bed crossed my mind. I thought about how for the better part of my life, I had been fulfilling a dream of a dead man rather than live a life of my own. I supposed we had that in common, Scarlett and I. We both had given up personal happiness to please others.
She caught me looking at her and averted her gaze. Pink stained her cheeks as she smiled to herself. I decided to try to make her do that more often.
“I don’t know how you do it,” she said.
“Do what?”
She waved her hand in my direction. “Act like nothing happened.”
“What do you mean?” I leaned my elbows on the table.
She glanced at me, then nibbled her lower lip. “First you take charge at Henri’s death. Now, I’ve been attacked, and you’re acting all calm and collected again. It’s as if . . . as if none of this bothers you.”
I blinked at her in shock. “You think none of this bothers me?”
She nodded.
I moved my drink aside and placed my hands on the table. “Trust me, I care. I care a whole hell of a lot.” I just had a different way of showing it. As a cop, I was trained to look at things objectively and logically, without emotion. Just because I suppressed my feelings, didn’t mean that I didn’t care.
