“I’m used to working out a couple days a week,” she said to him. “Do you have a weight room in your shop?”
“Yeah. Basement level, near the locker rooms. You lift?”
“Yes, I do. You?”
He nodded. “I prefer mornings, though.”
“Evenings for me. It helps burn off the stress. Can I get in there tonight, you think?”
“Sure. Do you need a spotter?”
“I do.”
“Then I’m your man.”
“Thanks.” It was always better to have someone with you just in case the weight slipped. Eve had been in gyms where the guys spotting for her had been so focused on her curves, the weight bar could have dropped down onto her throat and they would have been too mesmerized to notice. Palmer didn’t give her that impression. “My gear’s in a bag in my trunk.”
“How about we swing by and pick it up after we file our paperwork? I’ve room in my office where you can use your laptop, if you don’t mind the clutter.”
“Sounds good.”
“And by the way. I like you, too.”
She laughed softly and enjoyed the light dancing in his brown eyes. “Good to know.”
When he turned his attention back to driving, Eve turned hers to the city moving by, and the Oya inside smiled.
By the time they filed their reports and got her gear out of the trunk of her car, the sun had set. It had been a long couple of days. She couldn’t wait to work up a sweat by challenging herself both mentally and physically. Palmer showed her the way to the ladies’ locker room and she went inside to change.
When Leyton entered the weight room, he spied a few familiar faces amongst the men and women working out and nodded a silent greeting. Because of the time of day, the place wasn’t very crowded. He looked around for Clark, and for a moment didn’t see her but then saw her stretched out on a weight bench across the room. For a moment he stood and watched her as she went through a series of slow reps. From the size of the weights on each end of the bar and the ease with which she was pumping, he assumed she was in the process of warming up and in no immediate need of a spotter. The other men in the room were doing their best not to stare at the beauty effortlessly pressing 150 pounds, but they were having a hard time, and so was he. She was wearing a pair of loose gray sweats, black sneaks and a gray midriff-length sports bra. It was standard female attire in gyms everywhere, but on her it didn’t look standard at all. He found himself admiring the strong flex of her arms and the tight cut of her abdomen as the bar continued rising and falling. He couldn’t ever remember wanting to make love to a woman on a weight bench before, but he did then.
Deciding he needed to get moving before she caught him drooling, he walked over just as her phone rang. She sat up, grabbed the towel lying beside the bench and quickly wiped her face. Phone to her ear, she acknowledged his approach with a nod and began responding to the person on the other end of the call. “When was this?” she asked.
She glanced up at him and her expression made him sense something had happened.
“Okay,” she said into the phone. “We’ll be there soon as we can.” She ended the call.
“What’s up?”
“That was McBride. A man in Grand Rapids was just admitted to a local hospital with shock and fourth-degree burns on his hands, legs and feet. And get this. His name—Phillip Brandywine.”
Leyton froze. “The developer?”
“Apparently so, and the person who rode in the ambulance with him was Marvin Crenshaw.”
Leyton stared.
“That’s too much of a coincidence for me, so you up for a road trip?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Meet you upstairs in ten minutes.”
She hastily walked off in the direction of the locker room and he followed. He was so focused on the question of how Brandywine and Crenshaw might be connected, he almost missed the winning answer to another burning mystery. Glancing up, he saw that on Clark’s back, in the bare space between the bottom edge of her bra and the top of her sweats, floated a familiar-looking butterfly. He stopped, blinked and stared hard. Heart pumping and wide-eyed, he fought to make sense of that even as he quickly gauged her height and the way she moved before she disappeared through the locker room door. The last time he’d seen that butterfly the woman it belonged to had been walking away from him in much the same manner. Oh, my God! His knees went weak. It was her! Never in his life had he imagined finding her right under his nose. He wanted to shout hallelujah. He was grinning like an idiot because he couldn’t help himself. She was going to have a fit when he revealed himself, he just knew it. And the thought of the look on her face made him laugh so joyously he drew stares, but didn’t care. The centurion had found his lady!
* * *
On the drive to Grand Rapids through the dark, the pleased Leyton kept his eyes on the road and his mind on the goddess riding shotgun. It was still hard to be believe that he’d found her, but in his gut he knew he wasn’t wrong. Hard-assed ATF Agent Eve Clark was in reality the warrior goddess Oya, and it was taking all he had not to let her know that he knew. The knowledge had him smiling so broadly he was glad his features were hidden by the shadows.
“McBride said Brandywine was supposedly burning leaves and used too much gasoline,” she said.
“Who uses gasoline on leaves? Burning leaves has been illegal for years.”
“I know, and I suppose there are people dumb enough to still be doing something like that, but the Crenshaw connection makes me wonder.”
“Did McBride know when the accident happened?”
“Crenshaw told the doctors today, but the doc told McBride that from the looks of Brandywine’s condition when the EMTs brought him in, it might have been a few days ago.”
“Which would place it within the timeline of our fire.”
“Exactly. Hopefully this won’t turn out to be a wild goose chase.”
“Nice night to be driving either way.”
Eve agreed. It was a nice night. The moon was fat and full, and there wasn’t a lot of traffic. “I’ve never been to Grand Rapids.”
“I was up here last summer for some training. Surprised to find out it’s the second-largest city in the state.”
“Never knew that,” she admitted. With the jazz playing softly in the background, it was easy to believe that they were just a couple out for a late-night drive and not two arson investigators hoping for an interview with a potential suspect. Eve looked his way and reminded herself that they were working. “Obviously Crenshaw knows the developer, so why did he play dumb with us when we asked about their relationship?”
“He did seem to stumble, but maybe he was telling the truth about not knowing anything about threats.”
“Well, I want to know what he was lying about.”
“Which is why we’re out here in the middle of the night.”
Eve looked over his way. The dark interior hid his features. “If we have to spend the night, I’m authorized to pay for a couple of rooms.”
“Good to know. If we can’t question Brandywine until the morning, we’ll need a place to catch a few winks.”
Eve wondered what it might be like to spend the night with him. Would he be a generous lover? Before speculating further, she chastised herself and pushed the thought aside. He might be intriguing and fine, but no way were they going to sleep together this early in the game. The last time she threw caution to the wind she was left wanting a man she had no hope of ever seeing again. She allowed herself a few quiet moments to think of her centurion and the fantastic night they’d shared before she let the bittersweet memories go and stepped back into reality.
* * *
At the hospital, they weren’t allowed to question Brandywine. He was sedated. The floor nurse did allow a quick peek through the windows of his room in the ICU, and all the monitors and drips he was hooked up to showed how serious his injuries were.
After the solemn appraisal, the nurse told them, “I do
n’t think he’s going to be able to give you any kind of statement for a while. He’s pretty messed up.”
“Were there any witnesses that you know of?” Eve asked.
“We weren’t told about any, but his wife’s down the hall in the family waiting room. Maybe she knows something.”
Eve and Leyton thanked her and walked the short distance to the room the nurse indicated. Once inside, they saw a lone woman reading a magazine. She looked up at their entrance, offered a small smile and went back to her reading.
“Mrs. Brandywine?” Leyton asked quietly.
She looked up again, and it was easy to see the slight confusion in her tired eyes. “Yes?”
Leyton made the introductions.
Their titles made her stiffen sharply, but she pulled it together. Looking between him and Eve, she asked, “Why are you here?”
He explained, and as she listened her lips tightened. Eve noted how well-dressed she was. The gray twinset appeared to be cashmere. There was a single strand of pearls around her neck. She looked more suited for a Sunday afternoon sorority meeting than keeping vigil for her critically burned husband.
Leyton asked, “So, can you tell us about how he was injured?”
Before she could respond, Marvin Crenshaw walked in. Upon seeing Leyton and Eve, he stopped and asked, “What are you two doing here?” He sounded perturbed.
Eve answered. “We’re here about Mr. Brandywine’s injuries.”
“He was burning leaves. I was there. Barbara, you don’t have to tell them anything.”
Her chin came up, and the anger in her eyes matched her clipped tone. “Suppose I want to.”
“Don’t say anything,” he ordered as if accustomed to telling her what to do.
Leyton countered with, “Mrs. Brandywine, if you know something that will help us in this case, even if it’s criminal, it’s better you tell us now.”
Barbara met Crenshaw’s hostile stare and then looked down into her lap.
Leyton asked, “Mrs. Brandywine, how long have you known Mr. Crenshaw?”
“He’s my brother,” she revealed in a disgusted tone. “My baby brother.”
That information took both investigators by surprise.
Crenshaw said evenly, “And as your brother I’m advising you not to say anything else.”
“Why?” she tossed back bitterly. “If my Phillip dies, you’ll just put the blame on him. Why shouldn’t I tell them that you were the one who talked him into setting that fire?”
“Shut the hell up!” he yelled.
She jumped to her feet. “For once in my life, I will not! You planned it, you bought the gasoline, but you didn’t have the guts to do it yourself! You bastard!”
And then she was across the room hitting him and swearing and crying as if her grief and anger were all she knew. Leyton immediately grabbed her and pulled her away even as she tried to free herself from his hold. “I’ll kill you if he dies! Kill you!”
Nurses and hospital guards poured into the room in response to all the screaming, and while Mrs. Brandywine continued to wail and threaten, Eve saw Crenshaw bolt out the door. “Palmer! Call for backup!” And she sped out after him.
“Stop! Federal agent! Stop!”
But he kept running. An orderly pushing a mop bucket turned into Crenshaw’s path and was sent flying. “Stop him!” she yelled.
Nurses were sticking their heads out of doors but, upon seeing the action, ducked back inside.
Flying, Eve had her weapon drawn but knew better than to open fire in a hospital, so she kept running. He blasted through a set of doors and was out of sight until she busted through and found herself on the fire stairs. She could hear his feet pounding down the stairs below.
“Dammit! Stop!”
But he kept going, and so did she.
The small hospital only had three floors, so moments later they were outside and she was chasing him under the artificial lights in front of the building. He was heading for the parking lot. Eve looked around to make sure no citizens were in sight, then raised her weapon. “Stop or I’ll shoot.”
He didn’t slow, so she squeezed off a shot over his head. “Crenshaw, you are under arrest.”
“Go to hell, bitch!”
That made her mad, so she kicked up her pace and gained on him. They were in the parking lot. Off in the distance she heard approaching sirens. Backup maybe, but she didn’t have the luxury of waiting to see. It was her and Crenshaw. Still running, he tore around a line of cars. She knew that if he got into his vehicle, he might manage to get away, so she increased her speed again and gained enough ground to hear his harsh breathing and to see the panic on his face when he turned and saw her just a few feet behind. For a woman with Eve’s height that few feet meant zip, so she launched herself. She tackled him, and he hit the pavement hard enough that he screamed with pain. Trained to ignore the impact’s toll on herself, she heaved him up, threw him forcibly against a car and held him there while she snatched out her cuffs and snapped them shut around his wrists. She took in a series of deep breaths to regain her wind, then, after giving him his rights, grabbed his arm and marched him back toward the building.
Palmer appeared, gun drawn, face grim, but upon seeing her, relaxed and holstered his weapon.
“Party’s over,” she said to him.
Smiling, he bowed with a flourish of his hand, and she shoved the cuffed and limping Crenshaw forward.
* * *
Later, Leyton stood in the hospital lounge that the local law enforcement had turned into a mini command post and watched Clark giving her statement to the district FBI agent. Wow. What a woman. With Crenshaw now in custody, the feds would be handling the case from that point on, including prosecution. He looked down at his watch. It was just past midnight. A lot had happened since finding out Clark and his lady Oya were one in the same. What a woman, he thought to himself again. She’d taken off after Crenshaw like she’d been shot out of a cannon. He’d stayed behind momentarily to place Mrs. Brandywine in the care of the hospital’s security unit before running out to join the chase—totally unnecessary. Not only had she run Crenshaw down, she had taken him down. Looking over at her now, all he could think about was taking her somewhere and making hard hot love until neither of them could walk. However, he had his own paperwork to complete, so he buried the fantasy, took a deep breath and began to work on the form on his clipboard.
He was just about finished when she walked up. Without looking up, he asked, “Are you done?”
“Yeah. Did Brandywine’s wife make a statement?”
“Yep. Apparently, our Mr. Crenshaw has a gambling problem. Her husband’s construction company is on the rocks because of the economy so Crenshaw came up with the brilliant idea of burning the mall down. He figured when the Brandywines’ insurance check came through, they’d split the money and no one would be the wiser. And get this—he picked Detroit because in his mind, arson is commonplace.”
“So that whole song and dance about trying to be a good brother and helping out the city was just BS.”
“Pretty much.”
“So he was there the night of the fire.”
“Yes, but the wife said her brother chickened out at the last minute, which is how the husband wound up with fourth-degree burns. My man Blazer was right. Amateurs.” He went back to the paperwork.
“The Bureau will handle transporting Crenshaw back to Detroit.”
“Good, because we need to talk,” he said still writing.
“What about?”
“You and me, my lady.” He could feel her go still in response but continued to write nonchalantly.
She asked quietly, “What did you just call me?”
For the first time, Leyton looked up, still acting as calmly as if they were discussing the weather, he said just as quietly, “My lady.”
Her eyes widened.
He kept his grin hidden. “Let me take this over to the local sheriff, and then we can go.” The look on her face
was priceless. “And those two rooms you were going to get? We’ll probably only need one.”
And he walked away.
Eve stood there with her mouth on the floor. Why had he called her that? Only one man had ever addressed her that way. Surely Palmer didn’t know about the costume party. Did he? And if he did, how? Had he talked to Shelly? But then she remembered that she hadn’t talked to Shelly, so that couldn’t be it. Maybe she’d been driven so crazy by the centurion that she was jumping to conclusions. And what did he mean saying only get one room? Was he planning on driving back with Crenshaw and the FBI agent? She was so confused her head was spinning. When she came back to herself he was standing in front of her, and she swore there was mischief dancing in his eyes.
He asked, “Ready to ride?”
“Palmer, I’m confused.”
“That’s why every goddess should have a centurion around to explain things.”
She froze and stared. “What!”
His answering chuckle didn’t help her mood but cemented the fact that somehow or another he knew about the costume party. “Who told you?” she asked angrily, fighting to keep her voice down.
You Sang to Me Page 15
