“Chardonnay, but I can get you any kind you want.”
“Chardonnay is fine.”
Her hips swayed as she went to the refrigerator and poured two glasses. He turned away when she came back to the table.
“So why are we here?” he said after taking a drink of wine and wishing he’d stuck with scotch.
“I want to ask you something, but I’m not quite sure how to do it without raising red flags.”
“I’m sure you didn’t invite me to seduce me, much as I might like that. It sounds like you already think I’ll be suspicious, so just get to the point.” He could have kicked himself for saying that and hoped he had covered it so she didn’t notice. When he glanced at her, he could see she had caught it all right.
“You’re right. Seduction is out of the question,” she teased.
“One can always hope,” he said, keeping his tone light.
“Yes, one can,” she agreed. Her expression became serious. “Do you know how to pick a lock?”
Dylan was stunned. That was the last thing he expected. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Yes, but I can’t believe what I heard. How did we get from sex to larceny?”
“I prefer larceny.”
“I don’t,” he said.
“Oh, really?”
“Really. Where is this going? Unless you think I’m up to no good, steeped in illicitness—or . . . or what?”
She put her elbows on the table and leaned forward, cupping her chin in the palms of her hands. “Time to come clean, Kraft,” she said, her tone firm.
“Clever girl. Ply me with food and drink, then stick the knife in when I’m off guard. Fortunately for me, you don’t know how to play the game like I do, but I’ll give you some rope, see where it goes.”
“That’s big of you. So?”
He raised his hands, palms toward her. “I don’t know what you mean.
“Why are you really here?”
“You invited me. Are you sorry you did? I hope not because that wouldn’t be fair to Mari. She made a great dinner and it’s going to churn around in my stomach all because of you.”
She rose and went to a drawer in the kitchen. When she returned, she tossed a bottle of antacids to him. He caught it before it hit the table.
She sat back down. “Why are you really here, Dylan Kraft?” she repeated, more firmly.
“You read your father’s letter.”
“Yes, and therein lies the problem. What are you supposed to protect me from?”
“That’s not what the letter said. I believe Gerald’s words were ‘watch over her’.”
Laurel let out a sigh. “Answer the question.”
“Bad guys.”
She looked incredulous. “That’s all? Just bad guys?”
“Yep.”
“Which bad guys might those be?”
“The ones you need protection from.”
“God, I feel like a hamster on an exercise wheel, going round and round but getting nowhere.”
“Maybe we should return to the subject of picking locks,” he said.
“Oh, we will, trust me. But if there’s some danger, wouldn’t I be better off knowing what it is? I’m a black belt. I’m a steady shot. I can take care of myself, but only if I know what to look for.”
The look in her eyes was part fire, part pleading. “You’re right,” he said, feeling as if he had made some kind of peace with himself.
Laurel looked wary. “You agree?”
“Unfortunately, you make perfect sense.”
“So why don’t you tell me about the bad guys.”
“Because I promised your father I’d keep you out of it.”
“Out of what?”
“It.”
She picked up her wineglass and stood. “Let’s go into the living room. It’s getting chilly in here.”
“I’ll be right there.” He stopped to pour his wine down the drain before following her into the living room, where he helped himself to another scotch.
“Sit.” She indicated an overstuffed sofa.
She sat in a straight-backed chair, no doubt feeling superior to him as he was surrounded by plump cushions. He felt off-balance and foolish.
“Okay, continuing where we left off, who are the bad guys?”
The expression on his face was meant to convey that he wasn’t going to give her an advantage. He heaved himself off the couch and stood in front of her, trying to be as intimidating as possible. She smirked. She knows exactly what I’m doing.
“I could tell you, but then I would have to kill you,” he said.
She groaned. “How cliché. Okay. How about this. You do martial arts?”
“Several.”
“Tae Kwon Do?”
He nodded.
Her face lit up. “Black belt? I’m a second degree.”
“Sixth degree.”
“I challenge you to a match. If I win, you tell all.”
Dylan raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “Can’t do it.”
“Why not? Scared?”
“Quaking in my boots.”
“I can tell. The real reason, please.”
“You’re only a second degree.”
“So? I have a size advantage. Smaller is faster. You’ll have to do better than that.”
He sighed. “For one, you aren’t dressed for it. Neither am I, come to that. Two, I don’t fight with women. Three, you haven’t told me what I get if I win.”
Now she stood. “One, I can fight in any clothes. Two, that’s a sexist remark, and three, you won’t, but you’re free to think of something.”
He roared with laughter. “There’s just no arguing with you.”
“You’d better believe it. So? What do you say?”
“One, I’ve never seen anyone do Tae Kwon Do in a dress, so it’s an intriguing idea. Two, sorry, it won’t happen again. Three, if I win I will think of something.”
Without warning, she spun around and aimed a kick at his midsection. His hand snaked out and grabbed her ankle. In an instant, she was prone on the plush white carpet and he saw the surprise in her eyes.
For a moment, she couldn’t catch her breath. By the time she did, he had put his hand out to help her up. After a moment of hesitation, she put her hand in his. He pulled and as she stood, before she could get her balance, his arms went around her.
“I thought of something.” He tugged her toward him and captured her lips.
She pushed him hard. “No!” Instantly, he let her go.
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Let’s forget what just happened. Otherwise, you can’t work here, no matter what Daddy wanted. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll table our discussion for tonight, but I warn you, if you don’t tell me what I want to know, I’ll do some snooping. I’m very good at snooping.”
“That may be true but don’t plan on finding what you’re looking for, because you won’t.”
“You can be so damned imperious. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating me.”
“Believe me, I would never do that. I think it’s best I go home. And I apologize. I admit the thought of kissing you was an ‘in the moment’ thing and I wasn’t thinking with my head.”
“Forget it. I was as much to blame. I thought if I had the element of surprise . . .” She gave him a self-deprecating shrug. “Turns out I didn’t have it anyway, did I?”
He shook his head. “No matter. I didn’t doubt you were no match for me and I took advantage of the situation. You are in no way to blame.”
“What’s done is done. I trust it won’t happen again.”
“You can bet on it,” he said as he walked toward the door. Opening it, he turned to look at her standing in the center of the room, unable to keep the desire and regret off his face. “Thank you for dinner. Goodnight.”
As he closed the door behind him, he heard her say, “Bad guys, my ass.”
He wondered
what she’d think if she knew how bad those guys actually were. And if she knew he and her father were both DEA agents. Would she accept his protection more readily?
He wanted to tell her. Tonight had been the perfect opportunity, but he let it pass because he’d promised Gerald to keep that part of his life from her. He suspected it would all come out eventually, but for now he’d honor Gerald’s wishes. It was too soon after his death to tell Laurel her beloved father may have been the baddest guy of all.
Chapter 5
The next day, Laurel realized she’d never found out how to pick a lock. Dylan probably wouldn’t have told her anyway. Oh, well. There was always the Internet. Right now, though, she needed to get ready to spend the night staking out Dr. Gunderson’s home. That meant finding her binoculars, thinking of a logical excuse to give Mari, and not raising an alarm, which might cause Dylan to follow her. She doubted he’d had time to take off the tracker.
When she got to her office, Sue was just hanging up the phone. “Morning, Laurel. Here are your messages.” She handed Laurel three pink sticky-notes messages.
Laurel glanced at them. Two were from Mike Branson. “Did Mr. Branson say what he wanted?”
“No. I tried to find out, but he wasn’t talking.” Sue looked more rested than usual. “Of course, I felt ill-at-ease talking to a real celebrity.” She blushed.
“Ah ha. Is that why you look so chipper this morning?”
“I met a fabulous guy at a bar, but he wasn’t drinking, just playing darts by himself. I still can’t believe I did it, but I couldn’t help myself. He was so hot. So much so that I decided if he wasn’t drinking, I wouldn’t either.”
“What did you do instead?”
“Asked him if I could play darts with him.”
Laurel tittered. “Did you tell him you’re an expert?”
“No. I wanted him to find out for himself. Instead, he beat the pants off me—figuratively speaking, of course. He’s incredibly handsome. Navajo. His grandfather was one of those code talkers in World War II.”
“I’ve read about them. No one could decipher them.”
“Jim Tanner—that’s his name—is kind of a chip off the old block. He does something with codes and computers. I couldn’t understand most of what he explained about his job.”
“Why not? Was he talking in code?”
Sue laughed. “He’s taking me to lunch. Stick around so you can meet him.”
“I will. Meantime, could I ask you a favor?”
“Of course.” Sue looked at her boss expectantly.
“I need to pretend we’re going to a concert, and then I’m staying the night with you so I don’t have to drive all the way back to Rancho so late.”
“Okay. Why? What’s up?”
Laurel had never mentioned her father’s peccadilloes where she was concerned. Maybe it was time. “I have to stake out Gunderson’s house tonight and my dad would have a fit.”
Sue’s eyes widened. “But . . . but he’s . . .”
“I know, but there is the little matter of his bodyguard who is still being paid by Daddy’s estate to watch out for me.”
“Wow. Are you kidding?”
“I wish.”
“Don’t tell me. He looks like a gorilla and is dumb as dirt, but he packs heat and knows every form of martial arts ever conceived. Besides that, he is a former Green Beret or Navy Seal, and is now a mercenary.”
Laurel just stared at her. “What an imagination. If he was like that, I’d have fired him long ago. Come to think of it, you could be right about most of it. I don’t know much about him, but he’s practically a Master in Tae Kwon Do and I’m sure he has a gun. As for looks, he has an ugly scar on his face, but otherwise isn’t bad looking and he’s tall and muscular. He has a no-nonsense attitude and exudes danger.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember him at your father’s funeral. See? A mercenary. What’d I tell you?”
The door opened and a tall, well-dressed man came in. He wore a suit and carried a briefcase. A broad smile lit up his face as he saw Sue.
“Hi, Jim. I’d like you to meet my boss, Laurel Avidon. Laurel, Jim Tanner.” The two shook hands.
After a few minutes of small talk, Laurel shooed them out with a “Have fun and take your time.”
Before Sue could reply, Laurel went into her office and closed the door. What to do about Mike Branson? She looked again at the newspaper article he had given her and shook her head. Deep in thought, she pushed her bracelet around her wrist. She simply couldn’t imagine why he thought the article would be relevant to her.
Dylan paced. He hadn’t gotten much sleep and didn’t have his usual edge. When he realized he was mindlessly walking back and forth across the living room, he went to the gym equipment and spent the next hour on a punishing routine.
It didn’t help.
He still couldn’t stop thinking about Laurel. He had fantasized about kissing her more times than he could count, but fantasy was what it was and where it must remain.
He threw a towel around his neck and got some orange juice out of the refrigerator. Drinking straight from the carton, he went back into the living room and looked out the window at the main house. He knew she wasn’t home; her car was gone. His watch told him it was just after five. She should be on her way home soon.
He shook his head when he thought about her private detective business. He’d be willing to bet she’d never been in a dangerous situation. She said she was familiar with martial arts and guns, but could she protect herself in a dicey situation? Not if last night was any indication. Still, he’d like to think she could since he was banned from her office and its environs. Not that he hadn’t checked the area thoroughly and even let himself into her office after hours—at Gerald’s request—by picking the lock. He recalled her question. Why would she need to pick a lock? From what he could tell when he went through her files, the cases she took weren’t the kind where she would need to know that talent. But that could change at any time, he admitted. Maybe he should visit her office again soon.
He thought of the brochure from Gunderson. Was it just a coincidence? Maybe the good doctor had sent it after Gerald’s funeral hoping the newly-bereaved daughter could use a fake pick-me-up to drown her sorrows. It would be just like him, though if he had seen her at the funeral, he would know she was perfection.
After he showered, he nuked a frozen lasagna and grabbed a container of fresh pineapple chunks and a bottle of water. Settling in front of the TV, he turned it to a baseball game, happy for something to take his mind off Laurel.
In the fifth inning, something began to niggle at his brain. He shook it off and got a beer. It wouldn’t leave and by the top of the seventh, he was no longer paying attention to the game. What was wrong? He wasn’t sure, but knew not to ignore it.
He opened the blinds and peered into the dark. The lights in the main house were on. Okay. So what was it? His glance took in the property, looking for something. At last he realized it wasn’t something. It was nothing. Nothing in the driveway. Laurel’s car wasn’t there. Unless she had put it in the garage, which she rarely did, she had never come home.
He checked his computer but couldn’t locate her. Had she taken the tracking device off the car herself? Had the battery run out?
His heart pounded at his stupidity. Why hadn’t he noticed sooner? He tried her cell, but there was no answer. He dialed the house. Mari answered on the second ring.
“Avidon residence.”
“It’s Dylan.” He tried to keep the panic out of his voice. “I noticed Laurel’s car isn’t here.”
There was a short silence. “So? She’s a big girl,” Mari said. She didn’t sound worried.
Dylan wanted to demand to know where she was but knew he’d be out of line. “I need to talk to her. I tried her cell, but she didn’t pick up.”
“She went to a concert with her secretary. She probably had to turn her phone off. She’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I
t was all Dylan could do to keep from yelling.
“Yes. She’s staying the night at Sue’s. The concert is in Chula Vista, and she didn’t want to drive all the way to Rancho so late.”
“Thanks.” Dylan hung up and grabbed the newspaper off the coffee table. Something about Mari’s tone set him off. She was lying. He scanned the Arts section, but there were no concerts tonight in Chula Vista or anywhere else in the county. At least, none that were advertised and they were always advertised.
He tapped his fingers on the table. “Where are you, Laurel? What are you up to?”
He practically ran to the new SUV, all the time wondering what the hell he was doing. He had no idea where she was. How did he think he would find her? And what would she do if he did?
Laurel sat in her car across the street from the Gunderson house. It was a two-story mansion in La Jolla. The grounds were as neat as Gloria’s hair. Not a plant out of place. All paid for with the money of those who wanted to put off the effects of ageing as long as possible.
She’d been here for an hour. Lights were on in several rooms and the curtains were open but she hadn’t seen anyone. Gunderson’s car—an MG, she thought, although she’d never seen one for real—was in the driveway, not the garage. She hoped it meant he planned to go out. She didn’t relish spending the night in her car. It would be fun to tail him and might be even better if she could get into his house, but he probably had an alarm system. She poured herself a cup of coffee from her Thermos and settled down to wait.
She wondered if Dylan had realized she wasn’t coming home and if he’d believe the story Mari would tell him when he called—and he would call. Of that, she had no doubt. He’d already tried her cell twice. Even if he didn’t ask her housekeeper, he would have no clue where to find her, thanks to Jim Tanner.
Jim hadn’t even blinked when she’d asked him if he would check her car for a tracking device. And found one. And removed it. She didn’t ask him to check further. Dylan had indicated there was a tracking device inside the car, not tracking devices, and the one Jim found had been hidden well enough that she would never have found it.
Jim probably thinks it’s a hazard of my trade.
For The Love Of Laurel Page 4
