Trapped

by Rhonda Pollero

  When she couldn’t stand the silence any longer, she said, “We can forget that just happened.”

  Declan looked up and met her gaze. “I didn’t anticipate your quick response.”

  That stung a bit. “Don’t get overly impressed with yourself. I’ve been experiencing a dry spell for a while.”

  His head tilted to one side and he donned a decidedly cocky smile. “Then you’re claiming you kissed me like that due to a recent lull in action?”

  “You kissed me,” she countered.

  He shook his dark head. “I was about to, but you beat me to it.” His grin widened. “And I wouldn’t have guessed you’ve been in a dry spell. You were hot and pliant and—”

  “Can we skip this postmortem and just agree not to let it happen again?” she asked, trying to keep her tone cool, her gaze steady.

  “No,” he responded casually.

  “Excuse me?”

  He shrugged. The motion drew the fabric of his shirt taut against his solid torso. “I liked the way you kissed me.”

  “Will you please stop saying that? It was a mutual thing.”

  “And unexpected,” he said with a sexy half-smile that reached his eyes. “You’re full of surprises, Chasyn.”

  “No,” she said rather emphatically. “I’m not. I live a predictable, organized life. That kiss was a fluke.” It was, right? Had to be. She wasn’t the type of woman who just kissed a guy for the hell of it. Lord, she even had a no-kiss-on-the-first-date rule. So why him?

  “A really incredible fluke.”

  Realizing he wasn’t going to let it go, she changed the subject. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ve got a few zillion cars to look at.” She stepped back and sat in the chair. When Declan made a move toward her, she held up one hand. “I’m fine on my own.”

  “Scared I might touch you again?” he teased.

  Honesty was her best choice here. “No. I’m scared I might touch you again and I’d like to avoid that complication.” She didn’t have the nerve to look at him as she made her admission. She only knew that all this talk of kissing and touching had caused a lump in the pit of her stomach. And was it any wonder? The man was handsome as sin, sexy as hell and clearly available. What woman with a pulse wouldn’t be attracted to him? So what, she thought with determination. SO I find him attractive. That doesn’t mean I have to act on that attraction. Except being in his arms, feeling his mouth on her, were two of the most incredible sensations she’d ever experienced.

  * * *

  Declan left her in the office as she clicked from car to car, seeking the elusive taillight design. He felt his brow furrow as he went to the coffee maker to brew a new mug. In all his years in business, he’d never once kissed a client. Had never wanted to. But Chasyn was different. Having her was an ever present thought in his mind—more vivid now since he’d had the experience of having her body pressed against his. The feel of her breasts against his body; the way her palms flattened against his chest; the floral scent of her skin. To say his interest was piqued was an understatement.

  “You, my man, are playing with fire,” he acknowledged in a whisper before he took a sip from the mug.

  Not only was this interaction piss poor timing since she had a professional killer on her tail; it was her. Or rather the kind of woman she was. Declan had made a habit of dating tall, striking brunettes who were in it for the short haul. No drama, no complications, and definitely no strings attached. He liked it like that. But Chasyn was a whole different kind of enticement. For some unknown reason, he was drawn to the petite blonde with the clear blue-green eyes and the killer body. And his interest wasn’t limited to the physical. She was smart and strong. An impressive package. The kind of package you took home to meet the family.

  And that wasn’t part of his skill set.

  His cell chirped and he retrieved it from his pocket. “Kavanaugh.”

  “It’s Ziggy,” his computer whiz said on a rush of breath. “I’ve scoured every financial institution within a hundred-mile radius and I can’t find a safe deposit box in Mary Jolsten’s name. Want me to widen the search?”

  Declan sighed. “Might as well. Based on what her ex said, Mary probably had some sort of incriminating evidence against Dr. Lansing. Hopefully it will be something the cops can use to arrest him and end the threat to Chasyn.”

  “Oh, and I called in a favor at the state crime lab so I have a copy of the DNA report on Mary Jolsten’s fetus. Now all we need is a sample from Lansing for comparison,” Ziggy reported.

  “Any word from the surveillance teams yet?” Declan asked.

  “Yeah,” she answered with a derisive snort. “Lansing is one freaky dude. According to Joey and Sam, Lansing leaves his office carrying his empty water bottles with him. And he must be storing them at home because an examination of his trash came up empty.”

  “He’s a forensic psychiatrist. He knows better than to toss anything with his DNA on it. We need to come up with a way to get the doctor to lower his guard.”

  “Think his wife would help?” Ziggy asked. “I mean, Dr. Lansing has been all over the news as a person of interest since Mary’s murder. Surely his wife must have suspicions.”

  “So far, at least publicly, she’s standing by her man,” Declan said on a sigh. “Listen, can you do a quick background on a couple from Boca Raton named Wellington?”

  “A new suspect?”

  “I just want to confirm Mary’s ex’s story.”

  “Speaking of which.” She went silent but Declan could hear the clicks of her fingers sailing across a keyboard. “William Jolsten has two vehicles registered in his name. A Suburban and an F-150. The Suburban is green and the truck is white.”

  “Yeah, we can probably cross him off the suspect list.”

  “You sound tired,” Ziggy said. “Adam and Tom are on their way over to guard your perimeter so you and Chasyn can get some sleep.”

  “Thanks, Ziggy. I’ll touch base in the morning.”

  “’Night, boss.”

  * * *

  Chasyn’s eyes burned as she clicked her way through sedan makes and models after sedan makes and models. She’d had no idea taillights could come in so many shapes and sizes. Some wrapped around the trunk, some were oval, others were rectangles. She felt like she was searching for a needle in a stack of needles and she’d only gone from Acura to Buick. And she was only looking at current year models. She was discouraged and tired. Leaning back in the chair, she wiped at her dry eyes and stifled a yawn. Hearing footfalls, she turned to see Declan return.

  “Any luck?” he asked.

  “Nope. Nothing yet.”

  “Maybe you should call it a night and pick this up in the morning.”

  She glanced at the clock on the bar of the monitor. “It’s almost two a.m.,” she said with surprise. “No wonder my eyes feel like sandpaper.”

  “Go to bed, Chasyn. It’s been a long day.”

  She left him in the office and walked through the family room to the back hallway where the guest suite was located. Chasyn was so tired she had a knot between her tense shoulders, so she opted for a hot shower before bed.

  Gathering up her toiletries, she went into the bathroom, undressed, pinned her hair up, and stepped beneath the warm spray. She allowed the showerhead to massage her tense muscles while her mind wandered back to the kiss she’d shared with Declan. Stupid, stupid mistake. “Wonderful, wonderful kiss,” she whispered. She closed her eyes and conjured the memory of his hot mouth on her bare skin. On the way his tongue sparred with hers. And the feel of his arousal pressed against her belly. A low groan escaped her lips as she braced her hands against the tiled wall. Just the memory of the kiss had her weak in the knees.

  And weak in the head. There were so many reasons why this was a bad idea. First and foremost, she had a determined killer on her trail. Secondly, no matter how interested she was in Declan, he wasn’t part of her plan. She’d long ago promised herself that she wouldn’t even entertain a ser
ious relationship until after her thirtieth birthday. Of course when she’d made that rule, she hadn’t considered a man like Declan. Not that Declan was serious relationship material. After all, there had to be a reason why he was still single. A choice. And who could blame him? With his looks and charm, he could probably find a willing female at every turn. And all his crap about things happening organically was just another way of saying temporary. Chasyn could never be fulfilled being someone’s transitory plaything. No, she wanted what her parents had—a partnership for life. A few children. Things men like Declan avoided like the plague.

  But maybe there was some wiggle room in her life plan. Maybe there was a place for a temporary relationship with Declan. Something just for fun and giggles. No strings attached. It was both an appealing and frightening thought.

  She stepped from the shower, dried off and slipped on a pair of pink pajama pants and a floral print camisole. The place on her palm where she’d been cut by the glass during the shooting at her apartment building was a non-issue. The stitches itched, but everything seemed to be healing nicely. And if she did her hair just right, she could cover the injuries completely.

  As she slipped beneath the covers, she listened for sounds. She heard nothing so she assumed Declan had also gone to bed. To that big bed in the master bedroom with plenty of room for two. Chasyn rolled on her side, punched down the pillow and fell into a fitful sleep.

  She awakened several hours later to the sound of a bird and the scent of coffee. Knowing she had to go back to the monotonous chore of searching through taillights, she rose slowly and without much enthusiasm. Going to the closet, she reached into her suitcase and selected a pair of white capris and an aqua handkerchief top with lacey straps.

  After brushing her hair and her teeth, she applied a small amount of makeup and slipped on a pair of ballet flats. Before she put the burner phone in her pocket, she tried her parents’ number. There was no answer. They were probably out grocery shopping or possibly at a doctor’s appointment. Chasyn put the cell away. Because the kiss was still fresh in her mind, she dawdled a bit before heading to the kitchen.

  Declan was seated at the table with his laptop open, a steaming mug in his hand.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Morning,” he greeted her. “Coffee?”

  “I’ll get it,” she insisted. She went to the Keurig and selected a hazelnut flavored pod of coffee, then took down a mug and waited the eight seconds for the coffee to brew. She joined Declan at the table. He smelled of soap and his black hair was still slightly damp. As usual, he was wearing a black T-shirt and black jeans. “What are you doing?”

  “Reading what Ziggy found out about the Wellingtons—the family Mary was pulling the adoption scam on.”

  “Poor couple,” she mused. “They must have been devastated when Mary and her baby were murdered.”

  “It gets worse,” Declan said. “They’ve been down this road before. Three years ago they supported a girl from Indiana during her pregnancy but the girl backed out once the baby was born. And that was after almost ten years of infertility treatments.”

  “How shitty for them. Poor people want a child so badly that they’d risk heartache a second time. That’s extremely brave of them. I’m not sure if I wanted something that badly whether I would be strong enough to try again. Can I make breakfast?” she offered.

  “My fridge is pretty bare,” he replied.

  “Let me take a look,” she said as she got up and went to survey the contents. Eggs, butter, milk, sriracha, mustard, and an assortment of takeout containers. “You eat like a frat boy.”

  “I cook like one, too.”

  While Declan continued to work at the table, Chasyn scrambled some eggs and added a touch of sriracha to give them a little kick. She found plates in the cabinet next to the microwave and plated the food. Grabbing utensils from the drawer next to the sink, she carried the plates to the table. “Take a break,” she said as she waited for him to move the computer out of the way.

  “Great eggs,” he said after the initial bite.

  “Thank you.”

  “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the chef-y type.”

  Tilting her head, she regarded him for a few seconds. “I’m not chef-y; I’m competent in the kitchen and I like to cook.”

  “Doesn’t it get in the way of your career goal? I thought work was your sole focus until you hit thirty.”

  She sensed a touch of censure in his tone. “It is, but I still have to eat.”

  “That’s what ChowCab was invented for. You call in your order from your favorite restaurant, they pick it up and deliver it for the very reasonable price of three ninety-nine.”

  “It’s not the same,” she said dismissively. “There’s something very satisfying about creating a dish from scratch.”

  “My mother used to make everything from scratch,” he said in a subdued tone.

  “Was she a good cook?”

  He nodded. “She made peach cobbler to die for.”

  “I’m not much of a baker. Too much exact measuring.”

  “For you?” he said with an arched brow and amusement in his eyes. “I would think someone who makes lists for everything would like the concept of exactness.”

  “Lists keep me on track,” she said defensively. “I’ll be right back,” she excused herself and went into her bedroom to retrieve her legal pad. Then she rejoined Declan at the table. “What if Mary didn’t have a safe deposit box? What if she had a storage rental instead?” She tapped where she had written storage unit?

  “That’s a possibility. Good thinking,” he said as he took out his phone and sent Ziggy a text to check out local rental places.

  “Thank you,” she said. “It makes sense. A small unit is pretty cheap, so she could have paid cash, leaving no financial trail to trace back to her.”

  “Right.”

  “I assume it would be close to her apartment or maybe the restaurant,” Chasyn speculated. “And given Mary’s past, there’s no telling what might be in there.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself. First we have to determine if she had a storage unit.”

  Chasyn ignored the last few bites of egg on her plate. “I guess it’s time for me to go hunt taillights again,” she said without enthusiasm.

  “I know it’s boring, but it’s the best lead we have.”

  She started to clear the dishes but Declan reached out and caught her wrist. “You cooked, I’ll clean up.”

  “I don’t mind,” she said.

  He smiled and she felt it in the pit of her stomach. “You just don’t want to wade through a litany of sedans.”

  “True.”

  “Welcome to my world,” he said.

  She stood silently for a few seconds, waiting until he let go of her wrist. Her skin tingled at the memory of his touch. Keep your distance, she silently chanted.

  Once she was back in the office, she tried her parents again and still got no answer. It was starting to bug her. Normally, they left her a message or sent a text of their daily plans so she knew where they were almost every moment of the day. Being out of contact made her uneasy.

  Abandoning her lingering misgivings, she navigated her way back to the automobile database and started clicking her way through sedan after sedan. A few came kind of close, but nothing matched. Until nearly three hours later, when she reached the Ford Taurus. It was almost perfect. Almost. “Declan!”

  He was at her side in a moment. “Did you find it?”

  “Maybe.” She pointed toward the screen. “This has the same shape but there’s no border around the headlight. But it does have lettering below the taillight that looks very familiar.”

  “Hang on,” he said as he reached around her and pulled up another database. “This has photos of that sedan going back ten years. You’ve been looking at the current year models. Maybe we need an earlier model year.”

  Chasyn went back several years until she found the exact match. “That’
s it!” she exclaimed. “A 2013 Taurus SEL.”

  Declan gently squeezed her shoulders. “Great job. Now we have something with legs.”

  “Does Dr. Lansing own a 2013 Taurus?” she asked.

  Declan shook his head. “No, but he could have borrowed one or rented one. We’ll extend our search to family and friends and contact various rental agencies.”

  Relief washed over her. “If we can find the car, the state’s attorney can convince a grand jury and get an indictment. Then they can arrest that bastard, get his DNA, prove he killed Mary, and link him to Kasey’s murder.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself. We have to find the car first.”

  “I have faith in you,” she said, undeterred in her excitement. She took the phone out of her pocket.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “My parents. They’ll be thrilled with this news.”

  “You’re being a little premature,” he warned.

  Chasyn held the phone to her ear and listened as it rang and rang. “This is weird. They’ve been out for hours.”

  “Is that unusual?”

  Chasyn nodded. “They normally schedule their errands around going out to lunch. I haven’t been able to reach them since last night. Maybe they sent me a text or left me a voicemail.”

  “Using your phone is too risky,” Declan said. “But maybe Ziggy can find a way around that.”

  Chasyn followed him into the kitchen. He called Ziggy and explained the situation. Declan put the phone on speaker and placed it in the center of the table.

  “What’s the password for your phone?” Ziggy asked Chasyn.

  “Nineteen-eighty-nine.”

  “Hang on.”

  Chasyn could hear clicks and it felt like forever before Ziggy came back on the line. “We have a problem,” she said.

  “What?” Chasyn practically yelled as panic gripped her.

  “There’s an incoming call from your parents’ landline at one-fifty-seven this morning,” Ziggy explained.