by Pamela Aares
They’d made no promises, made no plans. They hadn’t even had time for a fight. Her heart had just sailed off on its own without checking any course settings or testing reality.
She’d just have to be thankful for the experience and move on. Chalk it up as another growth opportunity.
She was getting pretty damned tired of experiences for growth.
She shoved open the sliding glass door to her deck and shielded her eyes from the sun glaring off the glassy ocean. It was a rare calm afternoon with no marine winds.
At least she had her peaceful bungalow and the beauty of the sea. She’d have a few more of her things shipped down from Trovare next week and the place would start to feel like home.
Out of habit she checked her phone. There were three voice messages from Derrick and a mysterious text that said he had something important to show her. Something to do with Kaz Tokugawa.
Derrick knew how to bait her. She pulled up his number.
“Derrick?”
“Back among the living?”
“I’m back, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m not in any mood for cat and mouse dramatics.”
“I can only hope that I’m the mouse—I’m in the mood to be caught by the loveliest woman I know.”
When she didn’t answer, he added, “I have something very important to share with you. I think—no, I know you’ll find it enlightening. Can I make you dinner?”
Her fridge was bare and if she were honest, she needed his help nailing a couple of scenes that were dogging her. Facing the rest of the crew unprepared wasn’t an option. And damn him, Derrick had piqued her curiosity. “Okay.”
“Wow. I should’ve tried dinner as a tactic ages ago.”
“Don’t get too worked up congratulating yourself. I want to go over the script with you. And I have a few things to tell you as well.”
“Good enough for me.”
Derrick met her at his door with a glass of chilled champagne.
“Celebrating?”
“Maybe,” he said. “My only competitor for your affection may have been permanently vanquished.”
Her heart skittered in her chest. “Did something happen to Natasha?”
“She’s fine, as of two hours ago.” He shook his head. “I hadn’t considered Natasha competition.” He waved her in. “You’ll see.”
He walked over to his desk and tapped at the keyboard of his laptop.
“There.”
Nausea rose as she read the news report.
“Your fine samurai is a murderer,” Derrick said.
“It’s not possible.” Fighting dizziness, she dropped onto the couch.
“Looks pretty clear-cut to me. Apparently he was involved in a drug ring. If you hadn’t been isolating yourself to channel your inner princess and answered your phone, I could’ve spared you the shock.” He sat beside her on the couch. “Manslaughter will get him forty years. If the judge holds it to that. And I don’t think this shot will help his case any.”
He turned the laptop to face her. A full-screen photo on a tabloid site showed Kaz with his hands around Derrick’s throat and her shocked face in the frame beside him—the shot from Kaz’s sister’s art opening.
“You’re the one who’s off base. Kaz is innocent.”
“I do love that you always see the good in people.”
His sarcastic tone snapped something inside her.
“And I’ve been seeing your good side for way too long.” She thudded her champagne glass on the glass coffee table with a loud bang. “I’d better get out of here before my inner Xena blows your ass off this planet.”
Derrick gaped as she stormed out of his house.
She ran into David the stuntman coming up the sidewalk.
“I wouldn’t bother with him if I were you,” she said as she slid into her car.
“But, honey, bothering with him is one of my greatest pleasures.”
And just that fast Sabrina knew why Derrick wanted to spread rumors of marrying her all over the press: he didn’t want Hollywood to know he was gay. The knowledge of his plans should’ve made her angrier, but instead a bit of territory reluctantly opened in her heart. Hollywood often ate its own. She didn’t really want Derrick to be one of its victims. But he’d have to find another way to guard his secret.
On the way back to her place she did the math in her head.
There was no way Kaz could’ve murdered someone the night before. She’d been with him all night. At least until she’d fallen asleep. What time was that? What did it matter? There was no way he’d kill someone.
She checked her phone and found a message from the Valley County sheriff’s office.
Before she spoke with the authorities, she had to talk to Kaz. When he didn’t answer, she packed a bag and jumped into her car. If traffic cooperated, she’d be there in four hours. She called Natasha and told her she’d be back in two days. Natasha didn’t question her. Maybe the news had spread to everyone. If Derrick had a hand in spreading it, she’d wring his neck herself.
It was past midnight when Sabrina pulled up in front of the farmhouse. She rubbed at her eyes and then grabbed her bag from the back seat. The house was dark except for a light in the kitchen. She went around to the kitchen door and knocked.
Kaz jumped.
“I’m sorry,” she said through the door. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
He stared for a moment, blinked and then unlocked the door.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“You might work on your greeting skills,” she said with a smile that she guessed looked pasted on. She didn’t want to pretend, to act, with him.
She hadn’t spent much time figuring how he would receive her. She’d been too busy sorting through what she’d tell the police. And everything else that she remembered about every single moment she’d spent with him. His grandmother may have broken through the spell that Kristen’s character had woven in her, but nothing could undo the memories of Kaz’s touch or the world that touch had opened.
“I wanted to talk to you before I answered any questions.” She put her hand on his arm and felt him stiffen under her touch. “Why didn’t you tell them I was with you?”
“I told them you were here.”
“But you didn’t tell them I was with you all night. In your bed? That there’s no way you could’ve done what they are accusing you of?”
He closed his hand over hers. “Let’s sit down. You must be exhausted. Are you hungry?”
She tugged her hand away. Answers. She’d driven four hours for answers, not to talk about food.
“Kaz, why didn’t you tell them?”
He pushed back from the table and folded his arms across his chest. He was the one who looked exhausted. Heavy circles bagged under his eyes, and the light that she so loved wasn’t in them. Instead, lines of strain etched his face as he lifted his gaze to hers.
“Because at the time of the murder I wasn’t in bed with you. You may remember that you fell asleep. I looked at the clock before I went down to work in my study. I would’ve had plenty of time to kill him and get back here before either you or my grandmother were up and about.”
“We would’ve heard you leave.”
“You didn’t hear me leave the bed, did you?”
She shook her head.
“You’ll have to answer questions under oath, Sabrina. You’ll have to tell the truth.” He got up and drew a glass of water from the faucet. “Here. You’ve been on the road for hours. We can talk in the morning.”
“I want to talk now.” She took the glass and gulped the water. “While it’s fresh in my mind.”
But last night would stay fresh in her mind for a very, very long time.
“Sleep, Sabrina. We both need some.” He took the empty glass from her and held her in a transfixing gaze. “Thank you for coming. I’m sorry you’ll be dragged into all of this.”
“They’re accusing you of murder, do you get that? Of course I came
.”
“Well, at least you and Obaa-chan believe me. Maybe somebody else will. But the evidence is pretty hard to argue with.”
She saw a flicker of defeat under his anger.
“And you may be a terrific actress, but I bet you’re a terrible liar. You’ll have to tell them I wasn’t with you all night.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he put a finger to his lips.
“My attorney will be here at noon; we can talk with him before you go to the station. For now, let’s get some sleep. You need it, and I have to be up early to see Stacy in the morning about… Well, something personal.”
“Personal? Like what we’re discussing isn’t?” She’d driven four and a half hours to save his ass, and he was running to Stacy first thing in the morning on personal business?
He slammed the glass on the table, startling her. “Yes. Personal.”
She’d never heard him raise his voice. His loss of control scared her more than the jarring words.
He raked a hand through his hair but didn’t elaborate, just shook his head and walked to the sink. Evidently she really needed a reality adjustment.
He leaned his palms against the counter. His shoulders heaved with the rise and fall of his harsh breaths. After some moments, he whirled to face her.
“I’m sorry.”
His tone was carefully modulated. She knew that tone, used it herself when she didn’t trust her feelings.
He put his hand on her arm.
She didn’t want to feel relief just at having him touch her, just at feeling connected, but she did. And it was ridiculous. She searched his face for emotion but saw weariness. And something else. Something she couldn’t read.
“I can’t talk anymore right now,” he said.
But he didn’t let go of her arm. He held his hand there as if he were thinking or weighing options or fighting some internal battle. Well, she wasn’t a battlefield. If he was that uncertain about his feelings, she needed to back far, far away.
Except nothing in her wanted to do that. Nothing at all.
Chapter Twenty
In the morning Kaz slipped out of the house before either Sabrina or his grandmother was up and about. He had a hunch that Martin Erickson might know more about the whole meth business; the man must have had a reason to meet with Ortega.
Kaz liked Greg, but the evidence stacked against him was too solid to leave the investigation to Greg and his deputies. It couldn’t hurt to do some sleuthing on his own. He knew in his gut that Ortega was the key to finding out who had murdered his nasty sidekick.
And maybe Martin would know more about what Stacy was up to. The spike of warning he’d felt when she’d told him he’d be proud of her had ricocheted in his mind for nearly twenty-four hours. It’d be just like her to try something rash, something to prove herself to the world. Something dangerous.
The gate to Martin’s place was open. Kaz drove up and parked in front of the sprawling Erickson McMansion. Why a single guy needed so much space, Kaz couldn’t figure.
He rang the bell. After several minutes, Martin appeared, fully dressed.
“You here for help with that bail?”
“I have some questions.”
“Might as well come in. I have coffee.” He looked at Kaz. “You people drink coffee? I don’t have any tea.”
You people. Normally a comment like that would rile Kaz, but he had more important issues to focus on.
“Nothing, thanks.” Kaz stopped just inside the high-ceilinged foyer. “What do you know about Tuco Ortega?”
“Not much. He lives out in the west county. Has a couple kids.”
“You know what I mean,” Kaz said, not hiding the impatience in his voice.
“I’m not sure I do.” Martin leaned against the heavy wooden table at the center of the foyer. “Care to clue me in?”
“I saw you with him that evening in town. The night you were with Stacy.”
“He joined us for a glass of wine.”
“You in on the meth deals?” Kaz hadn’t meant to be so direct, but he’d lost his patience.
“Excuse me?”
“Meth.”
“Hell no. I bought a mare and a stallion from Ortega. Your man Roberto is breaking them in for me.”
Kaz heard Martin’s answers, but they didn’t sink in.
“Why was Stacy there that night, with you both?”
“We were having dinner. If you want to know more about Ortega, ask Stacy. She seems to know a whole lot about him. I think she’s afraid of him from what I saw that night. But I haven’t gotten much out of her. She’s being secretive, and it worries me.” Martin paced the foyer. “Meth? Ortega’s involved in meth?”
“And extortion.”
“Hell.” Martin raked a hand through his hair. “Stacy was really worked up about something the past few days. Maybe you can get more out of her. But I warn you—I’m going to marry that girl, so don’t get any ideas. But I figured since you landed Miss Hollywood—”
“I haven’t landed anything.”
“Looked like it to me.” Martin stopped pacing and crossed his arms. “Like I said, Stacy’s my worry now. At least you can knock that one off your plate.” He glanced at his watch. “I have meetings this morning, but I’ll head over to her place after.” A more relaxed look crossed his face. “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “And I meant what I said about that bail. I know you’re good for it. I know you didn’t kill that man.”
“We have the bail handled.” He heard the abruptness of his tone, an insolence Martin didn’t deserve. “But thanks for the vote of confidence,” he added as he turned away.
Kaz’s boots rang hollow on the tiles of the marble-floored foyer as he strode out of the house. He hadn’t considered that Martin and Stacy were an item. Or at least that Martin wanted for them to be. Kaz might not like him, but Martin struck him as a man with the strength to help Stacy destroy her demons. God knew she probably needed the help.
He’d grown up since high school, grown up and moved on. Stacy still had some growing up to do.
The sun was just clearing the mountains when he turned his car onto the road that led to Stacy’s cabin. Maybe he could talk her into telling Greg whatever she was up to. Maybe it would help his case. Maybe he could stop her from doing something stupid, something risky. Stacy had always considered herself invincible. It was a trait he begrudgingly had loved.
Chapter Twenty-one
Sabrina leaped out of bed. She grabbed her phone. Seven fifteen. She threw on her clothes and tiptoed down the hall. The door to Kaz’s room was open. She peered in. No Kaz.
As quietly as she could, she descended the stairs. Kaz’s grandmother was sitting at the kitchen table.
“He’s gone off,” Obaa said. “I heard the car about half an hour ago.”
“I need to find him. I had a dream. And not a good one.” The reality of the dream had shocked her. Maybe the ritual she’d participated in had ramped up the mystical in her. In the dream she could touch people, feel the heat of them, catch their scents as they moved.
“I put the baku spread on your bed. Usually it works. The baku elephants eat nightmares.”
“It wasn’t a nightmare, not really. This was different. I saw a man in a small house. It had potted flowers lining a cement patio, with horses and a new barn nearby. His sister—I think he said sister, but I’m not sure and her back was turned to me—was being attacked and tortured, maybe drugged. I don’t know these people, but I saw them.” She pressed her palms to the table. “They seemed real. Too real.”
Kaz’s grandmother stood as a clouded look came into her eyes. “I know this place you dreamed of. It’s Roberto’s house, Kazi’s foreman. I should go to them.”
The morning dew glistened in the grasses as Sabrina sped out of the drive with Obaa in the seat beside her. Neither of them brought up the murder.
When they arrived, Obaa knocked at Roberto’
s door. Introductions were brief. Yolanda, Roberto’s wife, seemed to appreciate the urgency that Sabrina’s dream cast.
Inside, Sabrina told Roberto of her dream. “The woman had blond hair,” she said, adding a detail she’d just remembered.
A pained look pinched into his face. “It’s not my sister you saw, though it could’ve been. I think the woman in your dream was Stacy Kingston.”
It made no sense that she’d dream of Stacy. But as she remembered the shock of her reaction to seeing Kaz with her, maybe it did make sense. Maybe the image had lodged in her, festered, and risen as a dream.
Roberto looked to Kaz’s grandmother.
Obaa nodded.
“She may need help,” Roberto said. “Maybe we can change the outcome.”
“Wait.” Sabrina wrestled with the embarrassment riddling her. “Perhaps it’s nothing. I’ve had strange dreams lately. Lots of them.”
Obaa patted her arm. “You saw; I can feel it. We would be wrong to do nothing.”
“Take this,” Yolanda said as she handed Roberto a red scarf. “Tie away the spirits.”
He took the scarf. And then he opened a drawer next to the refrigerator and took out a gun. Yolanda wrapped her fingers around his arm.
“In case,” he said. “Just in case.”
Yolanda lowered her eyes and didn’t say anything as they hurried to Sabrina’s car. At the car, she kissed her husband.
“You remember what’s important, querido.”
“Yes,” he said, hugging Yolanda. “Of course.” He pressed her scarf to his chest. “This may be all we’ll need.”
Sabrina backed out of the drive and hoped he was right. Just in case he wasn’t, she called the sheriff.
Chapter Twenty-two
The gnawing unease Kaz had felt at Martin’s morphed into dread as he drove the last half mile to Stacy’s. If she had dealings with Ortega as Martin had indicated, she was in danger. He might not be able to wangle out of her whatever harebrained plan she’d cooked up, but he could warn her to be careful, maybe even convince her to leave the region until Ortega was behind bars. Maybe she’d listen. But she’d always been impulsive. And he’d once liked that wild quality in her. But dealing with extortionists and drug dealers was way out of her league.