by D. D. Ayres
“He can’t change the fact that you stole Bogart and lied about it to the police. That’s going to stick.”
“I don’t know about that. My attorney says there were miti—minta—er, extenuating circumstances which led to my actions.”
“Like what?”
“Like, I was ashamed your dog got away from me. And I thought the police would act faster if I said he was stolen. And that nobody would care about how he got away when he turned up again.”
James gritted his teeth. Her way of thinking had become self-delusional. Whatever she wanted to be true suddenly was, in her mind. “You were seen with Bogart at a Raleigh shelter. You can be identified.”
“So you keep saying. My attorney says that woman’s testimony has been tainted. That could have been anybody bringing in your dog. You found the witness. Only you have talked to her. Only you are saying she can identify me. And you wrote up the report. You aren’t unbiased by a long shot, mister!”
“Is that all you’ve got?”
“You wish, you bastard! I know you were over in Raleigh this past weekend. I know you’re seeing her, probably fucking her.”
James made a quick calculation. “You hired a private investigator.”
“Two. My attorney said I needed to get information quickly. One to find her and one to watch you. Funny how they met last Friday in Raleigh. I hear one PI gave your little slut makeup lessons in the ladies’ room. God knows, she needs the help. We’ve got pictures of you two together. I hit the jackpot, didn’t I? Now that I know you two know each other I can see that I was framed. You set me up!”
Every muscle in James’s body tensed as the minefield of Jaylynn’s thinking opened up before him. The woman at the bar, the one he’d pegged as police. PI. He swallowed his anger. He needed to know just how elaborate her negative spin had become. “Why would I set you up?”
“Because I’m a celebrity. You’re trying to ruin me because I dumped you. You’ve been feeding that little slut information about me. My attorney says that amounts to co—cohesion.”
“I think you mean collusion.” And extortion. But why help her out?
“Whatever. Once the judge sees pictures of you with that slut, who’s going to think you chose her over me?”
“Nothing you’ve said changes the fact that you went to the police with the story that Bogart was stolen from your car, Jaylynn.”
“That’s right. I lost him, like I said the first time.” She sounded so confident. “For all I know, you hired your slut to steal him so you could have an excuse to go after me because you knew I was moving on. I’m the victim here.”
James shifted quickly through her argument. Someone was coaching her, and doing a damn good job of burying the truth with innuendo. While he was certain she hadn’t thought up any of this herself, Jaylynn was a pro at delivering someone else’s script. She would be believable in front of a judge. He needed to crack her story in order to refute it.
“Have you moved on, Jaylynn?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Bet I can find out who he is by reading a few copies of the society pages.”
There was a long pause. He knew he’d hit a nerve, and a thread to follow up. “Is that who’s footing the attorney bills? And hired the two detectives? I’m impressed.”
“How I conduct my life is none of your business.”
He needed to put her back on the defensive. “You must be more generous in bed with him than you were with me.”
She didn’t answer for so long he thought she’d hung up. “I’ll bet trailer-park Barbie doesn’t know how little you make as a doggy cop. Or maybe she thinks that being with you is trading up from the bubbas she’s known. We’re digging into her background. Who knows what else will turn up?”
James went cold inside. “What do you want to make this go away, Jaylynn?”
“Oh no! You started this. You’re the one accusing me of stealing your damn dog. Now you’ll have to deal with my payback. Tell your bitch I’ll see her in court!” She hung up.
James palmed his forehead, trying to concentrate on every word spoken as he played their conversation back in his head. Jaylynn’s attorney sounded like one of those grandstanding types who’d do anything for a client, providing it made the papers and enhanced his career profile.
He needed to put in a call to his sergeant about what the department was going to do about Bogart’s disappearance. He doubted it was top priority. He’d wanted to scare Jaylynn, shake her up for all the worry and pain she’d put him and Bogart through. For trying to kill Bogart.
James could have kicked himself for not seeing something like this coming. He knew Jaylynn was arrogant and self-involved, and ruthless. He had counted on her pride forcing her to make a strategic retreat out of town before she was charged. Or if she had turned on him, he thought he was prepared.
But Jaylynn had seen through his tough stance and found a vulnerable spot. She wasn’t going after him. She’d chosen to focus on the one innocent party in the whole screwed-up business. Shay.
James swore colorfully enough to turn a few heads but he didn’t even acknowledge the men he passed as he headed back to the field.
He should have told Shay about Jaylynn being a possible threat. But so much was going on when he found her in Raleigh that that concern was wiped right out of his mind.
Strange as it seemed, the moment he met Shay, Jaylynn had gone from being his ex to someone he once knew way back when. He could take care of himself. But dammit, Shay didn’t deserve another stone in her road.
He wasn’t arrogant or foolish enough to think he could just swoop in and make Shay’s life all better, or even that she’d want him to, in the long run. Their relationship was too new for that kind of thinking.
James’s steps slowed. But he was thinking about it. He just hadn’t realized it until this second.
Shay’d had so much grief in her life. She had paid too heavy a price for an incident that left her unjustly accused, tried, and convicted in the public eye. All she’d ever wanted to do was outrun her past. How could he tell her he was responsible for the shitstorm that was about to drag her into public view again? And worst of all, that it was his fault?
“Damn it!” He slammed a fist against the closest wall. In trying to set the record straight about Bogart’s disappearance, he’d royally screwed the woman who’d saved Bogart’s life.
“You ready?”
James looked up. Matt Reed stood before him in full gear for the next test. Had he seen the punch James had thrown? Possibly. It didn’t show on the lawman’s face.
“Yeah. Ready. Wait.” James sent Matt a direct look. “I need to go into Raleigh this evening. After the testing.”
His trainer frowned. “You know the drill.”
James did. It would be twenty-four hours more before he was done with his retraining. K-9 boot camp was a lot like regular boot camp. He hated asking for favors. He locked his jaw against doing so.
Matt stared at him. “Somebody dead or dying?”
James wagged his head though he suspected his relationship with Shay might be on life support after she received her summons.
“Then it can wait. Let’s get ’er done.”
James glanced at his phone. Shay would still be working. She hadn’t called him so it might be safe to assume she had not yet been served. He really didn’t want to drop this bomb on her in the middle of the day and have to hang up.
He could text her a warning. No, that would only scare her. And without an explanation, she would freak—and who could blame her?
He needed to be able to reassure her that he would figure out a way to protect her. And be right about that. But first he’d have to explain all about Jaylynn. Couldn’t really text that, either.
He punched a few words into his phone. We need to talk. I’ll call late. Love you.
He stared at the words then punched the key to back up and erase “love you.” Too soon. And not even remotely relevant at
the moment. Considering what he had to confess.
He was getting soft between the ears.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Shay ached all over. Her head throbbed. Her eyes itched and burned as she read her monitor. Her knuckles ached where she gripped her mouse. Maybe she was coming down with the flu.
“That’s all I need.” She rubbed two fingers between her brows to smooth out the tightness. The flu. Final insult after a roller-coaster week.
“You up for pizza and a beer?”
Shay made the effort to smile at Angie and Henry who had come up to her at the receptionist’s desk. They were dressed similarly in jeans, tees, and leather jackets. Of course, Angie’s jacket looked like a zippered version of a fifteenth-century gentleman’s doublet, tightly fitted with puffed sleeves and a ruffle on each upper arm: Charles VII meets Steampunk.
She glanced at the wall clock. “I’ve got six minutes to put in.”
Her friends exchanged glances. “Perry is making you punch a clock?”
When not out working a temp job, Logital Solutions’s employees had a lot of freedom. Many still came in and often stayed late, because it allowed them access to some of the fastest computers around. Because much of it wasn’t paid work, Perry didn’t keep track of hours.
“I’m not temping. I’m staff. We clock in and out.”
“All the more reason for us to spirit you away, lowly drudge,” Angie intoned in her best snotty English accent.
“I don’t think so, guys. Have you heard if anyone in the building has come down with the flu?”
They both backed up a foot.
“You do look sort of illin’,” Henry said, sliding a hank of long black hair back from his face.
“No, you should come. Beer is a natural viral deterrent.”
Henry turned to Angie. “Seriously?”
“Absolutely. Don’t you remember The Andromeda Strain? The drunk guy didn’t get the virus. Something about acid levels in his blood. Shay needs isoalpha acids to fight her plague.” Angie said it with such conviction Henry nodded.
He glanced at the clock. “That settles it. Beer therapy for Shay in T minus five minutes and counting.”
Shay didn’t say no a second time, though the last thing she felt like doing was sitting in a too warm, too loud overcrowded bar. She wanted to go home and curl up in bed clutching a pillow that still smelled a tiny bit like James. How dorky did that sound?
“Okay, but only one. It’s Thursday. I have work tomorrow.”
“We’ll be over here.” Henry pointed to the waiting room chairs where they went to sit. Each whipped out the video device of their choice, instantly engrossed.
When their boss came by a minute later, on his way to a late meeting, Shay gave him a half smile. “Good night, Perry.”
He gave her a smile but didn’t break his stride. As far as she knew, Halifax hadn’t called to dump on her record of model employee nor to address her claims about Eric.
Or was Perry keeping that to himself?
Shay tucked her head down to finish the job before her, and pushed the anxiety away. It scooted four inches and then settled back to peer over her shoulder. Something was wrong. She couldn’t put it into words or even explain it. Yet she still felt watched. Sometimes when she was on the street and, most often, when she was arriving and leaving places. Hypervigilance turning to paranoia?
Shay sucked in a breath. She needed to distract herself. Think of James.
She had gotten his text earlier. And while there was nothing even remotely romantic about it, he had promised to call tonight. She had been waiting to tell him about her week, and what she had done. Maybe she’d tell him when he called, and have it out of the way. Then tomorrow he’d be back, in Raleigh, in her apartment, in her bed.
When she thought of James everything else faded. Nothing seemed to matter when she conjured up memories of him. In his arms, kissing him, loving him, the world stopped. She could breathe freely.
“All ready?” Angie flashed five fingers, a fist, and then five fingers at her. It was 5:05.
Twenty minutes later, they had wedged themselves into a corner booth of a local brewery, a different microbrew in front of each of them.
“Is James coming over to Raleigh this weekend? Or are you going down to Charlotte to crawl all over his gorgeous co—” She glanced at Henry and blushed. “Body.”
“Neither.” Shay hadn’t missed the glance Angie flung Henry’s way. Usually, Angie was unflappable. She said things just to see how outrageous she could be. But with Henry … hm.
“So, you got a guy?” Henry reached for one of the nachos piled on a plate in front of Shay.
“Sort of.”
“He’s a cop.” Angie reached for one, too.
Shay surged forward, circling her arms moatlike around her plate. “Hey! Order your own food. This is lunch and dinner for me.”
“Let’s see. You got your dairy, your protein and vegetable, and your starch.” Henry bobbed his head. “I guess that constitutes a meal.”
“There’s no green vegetable there.” Angie wagged a finger at the platter. “Without something green that doesn’t constitute a full meal.”
Shay reached out and dumped her side order of jalapeños over the top of the stack. “Green vegetable. Ta-da.”
“Damn. That was just mean, Shay.” Angie didn’t do jalapeños.
“Serves you right, criticizing my food.” She slipped a chip piled with beans and trailing hot cheese from her plate and leaned forward to bite into it. Maybe she wasn’t fluish, after all. Maybe she was just weak-kitten hungry.
By the time she stopped chewing, Angie’s and Henry’s orders had arrived.
For the next couple of minutes all that happened at their table was chewing and swallowing and more chewing.
Shay watched as each of them slanted speculative gazes at the other when the other wasn’t watching. Something up here. Time to test her hypothesis.
“So, Henry, you still seeing that girl from Durham?”
Henry darted a glance at Angie. “Ah, no.”
“She was so not his type,” Angie chimed in. “She claimed to be an old-school video-game nerd. But she didn’t know Samus Aran from Metroid. Can you even believe that?”
Shay grinned. That answered one question. “So, who are you seeing, Henry?”
He ducked his head. “Not really anyone, at the moment.” He half glanced at Angie again. “Just hanging with Angie.”
O-I-C. Shay formed the letters for the words “oh I see” with her right hand and then laughed. One really slow week at the office, they had had a contest to see who could communicate most effectively without actually resorting to speech. Nerd entertainment.
“It’s not like that.” Angie put down her fork. “Well, it’s not.”
Shay aimed raised brows at her. “Why not?”
“Because, well, because…” Angie glanced at Henry who had paused in chomping his burger to glance over at her.
Shay decided to push. “Why not?”
Henry dropped his burger onto his plate. “Yeah, why not?”
Angie went deer-in-the-headlights. “I didn’t think—you never said. I don’t know.” She glared down at her plate of Buffalo wings as if daring them to take flight.
Henry picked up his glass of beer, grinning. “I guess that’s settled then.”
Angie looked up. “How is it settled?” Her sweet face went all evil cherub. “You don’t just get to nod and smile, fella. Are we seeing each other or not?”
Henry choked, spewing beer out his nose.
Shay handed him a napkin, trying not to laugh too hard.
“Ah sure. You and me. I’d like that,” he finally gasped out between beery sneezes.
Angel-face Angie returned with a smile to put Cupid to shame. “That’s settled then.”
Shay smiled. Her two favorite people were now officially seeing one another. Maybe when James got back to town the four of them could double-date. Like normal people. Like
friends, even.
Unless she decided to keep James locked away all weekend in her apartment.
That possessive thought brought a sudden jolt of emotion with it. She wanted James all to herself.
It was a new feeling. Waaaay too soon for that emotion to be taken seriously.
Yet it felt good just knowing she was capable of it.
She’d never met a man and thought, yes, please, that one. On loan. Possibly permanently. The feeling was more than enough for now.
Glad she hadn’t turned down her friends’ offer of company, Shay turned to order another beer for Henry. From the corner of her eye she saw a familiar face. Well, not exactly familiar. The woman from a week ago, the one who’d called herself Carol? Carrie?
Before she could think why she was doing it, Shay was out of her seat. “Be right back,” she told her puzzled companions.
Every sense tingled as she neared the bar. She took in the woman’s long lean body. This time she wore jeans so tight they seemed painted on, much to the appreciation of the males nearest her. Dirty blond hair stuck up under a battered cowboy hat, she leaned on the bar, one hip jutted out while one booted foot rested on the rail. Something about that pose struck Shay wrong. She seemed like a caricature of a hot Southern college girl. Like Angie in costume. A great face and bod, but she wasn’t an undergrad sporting a false ID and a big thirst. She was older.
Shay came up beside her before the woman looked her way. “Carly, right?”
“Right. And you’re ah, shoot. I never was good with names.” Shay didn’t help. The woman blinked but her smile stayed wide. “How are you, girl?”
“Why are you here?”
Carly’s smile stiffened at Shay’s tone. “Like I told you, I’m a regular barfly.” She made a big production of looking past Shay, leaning out into the path of customers. “Where’s that hot stud boyfriend of yours?”
Shay’s gaze never left her face. Definitely closer to thirty, with those squint lines. “Why?”
