“I wonder if the cousin that’s coming into town is as cute as he is. Maybe we could double date.” Trina turned to face Darcy, hopping backward in a tiny dance.
Putting a hand on her bouncing butt, Darcy turned her back around so Trina could actually watch the man she was tailing. “Aren’t you too busy tracking evil to spare any time for something as mundane as dating?”
“James Bond screwed every woman he tripped over. The bad ones and the good ones. If he had time for it, so do I.”
They were headed south. Of course, the majority of Ocean City sprawled south of them for one hundred and thirty-eight more blocks. It didn’t really narrow the possibilities of where Ivan was headed next. “I think I’d prefer you to choose a role model who isn’t almost killed three times in every movie. How about Miss Marple?”
“She didn’t have any sex. Geez, let me live a little.”
“You live plenty. Whereas I’ve been dateless in Africa for months. So how about you let me enjoy at least one night alone with Coop before you start horning in with talk of hypothetical double dates?”
“Fine.” Trina contorted half her face in an elaborate wink. “He’s one heck of a way to break your dry spell. Rockin’ body, awesome hair, lips that look totally biteable—”
Yeah. Darcy almost let her eyelids flutter shut to fully revisit the tan gorgeousness of his chest. Then she tripped right off the curb. Sexy daydreaming did not mesh well with tailing a suspect. “Stop it. He’s mine, and I’m not sharing.”
“Being an only child’s made you selfish.” Trina threw an arm around Darcy’s shoulders. “I am glad you’re hot on the trail with me tonight, though.”
“Me, too. I don’t think Ivan’s a mobster, either, before you ask. But something is off. He sets my teeth on edge. I’ve racked my brain, but haven’t come up with any angle to explain that parade of young hotties past his beach chair. The only thing I know for certain is that it’s weird. Weird and inexplicable often add up to dangerous.” Unfortunately, not dangerous enough to call the police. Just enough that she didn’t want her best friend running around after him all by her lonesome.
“Do you know how many asses he’s patted so far tonight? Six! A hunk half his age couldn’t pull that off. I’m telling you, there’s something hinky about him.”
“Like how he spends his evenings.” Ivan walked into his third mini-golf course in half an hour. This one had a three-story pirate ship, with masts extending up another two stories at least. Thick, nautical-looking ropes cordoned off the paths, backed by beds of bright yellow and orange hibiscus. A cannon fired a shot into a deep pool, and they both jumped.
Darcy crossed her arms. “This is officially beyond weird. He can’t be a golf fanatic, because he hasn’t so much as picked up a club at any of these places.”
“He’s making the rounds.”
Sort of like mob kingpin, glad-handing all his minions. Probably not safe to mention that comparison out loud, though. Trina would jump on it and do something crazy, like immediately calling the FBI. “But for what?”
“I guess we’ll need to get closer to figure it out.” Trina followed the path past waist-high barrels marked GUNPOWDER and treasure chests overflowing with colored stones and ropes of fake pearls.
“Isn’t the zoom on your camera getting you close enough?”
“Watching him isn’t getting us anything but sore feet. Besides, a good investigator uses all five senses. We need to listen in on a conversation.”
Bad idea. Despite the throng of families pushing down the path with them, Darcy felt in her bones this was wrong. Nevertheless, she followed Trina into another cavelike structure. This one held two putting greens and a jail cell, complete with a skeleton dressed in rags. Dark and musty, it actually wasn’t a bad spot to hide. On the other side of the bars Ivan held court. A leggy brunette who didn’t look like she’d yet lived through a senior prom spewed out a fast stream of harsh consonants. Whatever language she and Ivan tossed between them like jagged verbal spikes sounded very Eastern European.
“I don’t think listening’s going to clarify anything.” She tugged on Trina’s camera strap. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Wait,” Trina whispered. “Look.”
From beneath her baggy tank top, the girl pulled out a wad of cash. At least an inch thick, rubber-banded in the middle. Ivan slid it into his fanny pack. As he reached around to squeeze her ass, he looked up, right at Darcy and Trina. He shoved the girl aside so hard she stumbled against the rusty iron bars.
“Hey!” His voice echoed off the low rock ceiling. “You two. You come.”
“Okay, now we can leave,” Trina said in a shaky voice. She grabbed Darcy’s hand and hurried out of the cave. The fast, hard slap of flip-flops behind them neared.
Darcy glanced over her shoulder. Arms pumping, Ivan lumbered after them. Bushy eyebrows came together into an angry single line. He hollered again, this time in his own language. She didn’t need a translator to know that whatever he said, it was bad.
“Wanna run?”
“You bet,” Trina huffed before taking off like a pebble out of a slingshot.
* * *
Women were one hundred percent, predictably unpredictable. Cooper knew that some appreciated spontaneity. Others ran away with their hands over their faces, complaining about not wearing any makeup. As he trudged up the three flights of stairs to Darcy’s rental, he hoped she’d land on the side of happy to see him. Or, this was an epically stupid idea.
As soon as Brad zonked out to an Orioles game on the television, Coop jumped at the chance to see Darcy again. Wait a minute. What if she was still at Fager’s? He paused on the landing. She’d looked smoking hot in that off-the-shoulder dress. A crowd of guys probably snapped her up the minute he left. Great. He’d softened her up for a bunch of drunk idiots.
No. Those lips had parted in anticipation of kissing him. And he was damn sure going to follow through before they lost any more momentum. He pounded on the door of what had to be her condo. Two short shrieks, and the sound of glass breaking. What the hell were they doing in there?
Slowly, the door opened a sliver. Icy air arrowed out the crack. He noticed the chain still locked down right at eye level. Darcy kept most of her body behind the door, tilting her head sideways to peek out at him. “Hey there,” said Coop.
She blinked twice, slowly. “This is a surprise.”
“A good one, I hope.”
“How’d you find me?” she asked, without opening the door any further.
“Babe, I’ve got this town wired.” When she still didn’t move, he figured he’d better explain. “I saw the name of your rental unit on the keytag on your towel.” He tapped his temple. “Trained to be observant, remember? Beach Babylon only has six units. I started at the top, and knocked on every door until I hit the jackpot.” Coop waited a moment, then pushed gently against the door with his shoulder. “Can I come in?”
“Oh. Sure. Of course.” She slid back the chain and opened the door a few more inches.
Coop sidled past her, then did a double take at Trina’s near-fetal position on the couch and fright-wide eyes. Her freckles stood out in sharp contrast to a face gone chalk-white. “What’s wrong? Are you two watching a horror flick or something?”
“Umm, yeah.” Darcy rushed him through to the galley kitchen. She wore tight yoga pants that showed off a heart-shaped ass and a thin tank. “Join me in a beer?”
“Absolutely.” He caught her hand. “But first, I brought you something. To apologize for cutting out on my really great date. Excuse or no excuse, it was a douchebag move to leave you alone. I’m really sorry.” From behind his back, Coop extended his hand, holding a large scarlet hibiscus bloom.
Darcy traced the edges of the petals. “Hot, charming and sweet. The dating trifecta. Cooper Hudson, you are the real d
eal.” She tucked the flower behind her ear. Coop wanted to rip it away and replace it with his lips, trailing around the shell of her ear to finish in a firm nip on the lobe.
Behind them, the door slammed shut. Cooper turned to see Trina sliding the chain into place. Odd. “If you want me to stay all night, ladies, just ask. No need to lock me in.”
“We’re locking everyone else out,” Trina muttered. She stalked back to the couch and curled her arms around a pillow shaped like a starfish. It matched the rest of the kitschy shore décor: plastic tablecloth covered in tropical fish, china lighthouses on every end table, and fake beach grass spearing out of a vase by the slider to the deck. Then Cooper noticed the broken glass and pool of liquid on the glass-topped coffee table. He put the ear nibbling plans on hold.
“Okay, what’s going on here?”
It was subtle, but he caught Darcy shaking her head at Trina. “Oh, no. Don’t pretend everything’s fine.” His hand shot out to capture Darcy’s wrist again. “Not when you’re shaking and that one,” he jerked his chin toward the couch, “looks like a ghost just walked through her. Are you in trouble?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
They spoke simultaneously. Coop figured the truth probably lay somewhere in the middle. He ripped off an arm’s length of paper towels and cleaned up the broken glass while the two women glared at each other. Then he dropped into green corduroy recliner, arms stretched out on the sides. “Spill it,” he ordered.
Five minutes later, he deeply regretted ever asking. As she recounted their tale, Trina paced the room, arms waving as though doing calisthenics. And her convoluted tale sounded like a mash-up of hopeful paranoia and unjustified assumptions. Nah, why pretty it up? She was just freaking nuts.
“You said Ivan didn’t follow us.” Trina hurled the accusation at Darcy. “Too fat and slow to be able to keep up with us, you said. But then when Coop knocked on the door, you jumped higher than me. Dropped your beer. Massive party foul. Not a cool, investigator-type move, by the way.”
“No, I said I didn’t see him follow us. I didn’t slap a money back guarantee on my observation.” On the couch, Darcy hugged her knees to her chest. “Speed and stamina definitely beat out overweight and angry. We lost sight of him after only half a block, darting through parking lots and back alleys,” she explained to Coop.
It was obvious that Trina had more spunk than smarts, but he’d expected a little more common sense from Darcy. “Alleys? Not what I’d call a safe escape route.”
“The unknown of the dark alley scared us a lot less than the known of an enormous, pissed off Russian chasing us down. We did backtrack six blocks before finally heading home.”
Aha. “Must be when your common sense started to rebound.”
Trina perched on the edge of the coffee table in front of Coop. “So what do we do now?”
He still hoped to lock lips with Darcy, but that wasn’t really a three-way activity. Still, he had to say something. She looked at him with all the hope of a baby bird waiting for its mother to drop food into its mouth. “Watch television. Go to bed. Spend tomorrow on the beach.”
“No, I mean, what do we do next on our case?”
Sugarcoating wouldn’t shut her down. “There is no case.” Coop kept his eyes locked with Trina’s, the same color as the amber ale in his hand. He’d damn well stare her down until resignation drooped her face.
“That’s it?” She spread her hands, as though grasping at the ideas he refused to share.
“Look, I’ve got a headache starting from trying so hard to figure out why you’ve labeled this poor guy a criminal.”
“He sets off my ick-o-meter.”
Coop shoved his hands through his hair. Did Trina even hear the words coming out of her mouth? “Not really an appropriate way to lead off a criminal complaint. Should he be groping women half his age? No. But if they’re over eighteen, it isn’t illegal. You said they’re all going up to him, not the other way around. Which means no grounds for harassment.”
“What about the wad of cash?”
“You said you didn’t see him hand her anything in return. So no suspicion of drugs. She could’ve lost a bet, or be paying rent. The cash by itself isn’t proof of a crime being committed.”
“But he chased us.”
“Because you’d followed him for how long? If I caught someone tailing me, I’d damn well want to know their reason for it. The Cold War’s been over for a long time. We don’t arrest people for having Russian accents. You’ve gotta let this go, before you piss him off any more.” Coop pushed up out of the chair. He’d wasted enough time on Trina’s trumped-up mystery.
“Leaving already?” Darcy asked.
“Only if you come with me. Want to go for a walk on the beach?”
Trina picked up on his less than subtle clue. She left the room with a half-hearted wave. Darcy watched her walk down the hallway. “How about we sit on the deck, instead? Trina got a scare tonight. I don’t want to leave her completely alone.”
He could work with the deck. Hell, he could do a handstand on the rail if it meant getting his lips on hers. Coop pushed open the sliders. Damp, steamy air caressed his skin with the softness of a lover’s touch. The crashing tide roared dully, just out of sight in the inky blackness. Darcy sat on a high stool. She crossed her legs and looked at him expectantly.
“You were quiet in there,” he said.
“Trina was making enough noise for both of us.”
Might as well ask the obvious question. Coop wouldn’t be able to move forward until he knew. “Soooo—you’re not on board with her wild-ass theory?”
“In a nutshell? No.”
“Thank God.” Coop preferred woman with a firm grasp of reality. He leaned against the railing and crossed his ankles. “She’s sweet and enthusiastic, but kind of a crackpot. No offense intended,” he hastened to add. Trina seemed really nice. Just really, really nuts, too.
“I’ve pointed out to her several times that she’s pole-vaulted to a wildly improbably conclusion. The only reason I tagged along was to keep her out of trouble.” Darcy shifted, curling her fingers around the fancy ironwork of the seat. “However...”
Coop held up one hand. “Don’t go there.”
“Where?”
“Whatever alternate reality has you imagining there’s a speck of truth to her delusions about this Ivan guy.”
“I’m not saying he’s a criminal. But if I was a cat, all my fur would stand on end when he’s around. Something is off about him.” Darcy shook her head. “Never mind. You didn’t come over here to talk shop. How’s your cousin settling in?”
Oh yeah, the pain in the ass who’d ruined their date. “I gave him a beer and a sandwich, put him in front of the O’s game. He worked about eighteen hours straight before driving out here. We’re in the same MSP division, so he’s been tying up my loose ends. Brad started snoring before I put the lettuce back in the crisper.”
“Aww, he sounds so grateful that you stranded a beautiful woman in order to rush home and throw sheets on the bed.” Darcy’s sarcasm cut cleanly, like a shark’s fin breaking the water.
Coop leapt at the opening she’d provided. Time to get this visit back on track. They’d wasted enough time on Trina’s wild goose chase. “Well, I’m grateful he fell asleep.” He leaned forward from the waist, bracketing her with both hands on high back of her stool. Close enough to catch a heavenly whiff of the lemon cake scent of her hair. Close enough to see her eyes dilate to the golden edge of her pupils. “Gave me the chance to finish what we started.”
“Sorry to break it to you, but you’re about twenty hours too early to share a sunset with me.” She jerked her chin toward the inky, star-filled sky.
“I don’t care that I missed the sunset. What I hated was missing this.” Leaning forward an
other inch, Coop brushed his lips across hers. Light, soft, just testing the waters. At least, it was supposed to be. As soon as they touched, an electric tingle sparked through his bloodstream. The option of going slow disappeared. He pushed his thighs between hers. One hand anchored in Darcy’s thick, silken mass of hair, and the other slid to the small of her back to pull her close.
Coop deepened the kiss. Nipping at her lower lip rewarded him with both a breathy moan and the chance to slide in his tongue. Darcy met him, thrust for thrust, exploring, tasting, and setting him on fire. From the way she dug her nails into his back, he assumed she felt the same way. Especially when she wrapped her legs around his waist. It lined up his cock right against the vee between her thighs that radiated heat straight through his shorts.
The pressure gave him a jolt. They’d gone from zero to holy-shit-this-was-freaking-amazing in less than a minute. Warm, soft and writhing in his arms, Darcy kissed him like her life depended on it. Their passion sent the stool screeching backwards into the wall. Coop almost fell to his knees, but Darcy’s firm grip kept him upright. Unfortunately, she then pulled away.
“We should stop.”
What the hell? Shocked, he managed to skewer his lust in place with an icicle and ease back. “Babe, we just got started.”
“I know. But there’s something you should know before we go any further. Full disclosure.”
Bad, bad words to hear in the middle of making out. Just about as toxic as the dreaded we need to talk. Coop swiped his hand across his forehead. “Okay. Hit me.”
“I’m about to fly to Africa. Probably.”
“Tonight?”
“No.”
Whew. He ran his hand over her shoulder, ready to pull her back into his arms. “Then where’s the problem?”
Love at High Tide Page 6
