by Rita Herron
“I have not,” Reid bellowed.
“Shut up, you pervert,” cop number two growled. “I hate your kind. You probably can’t even get it up.”
Panic mingled with anger making Reid want to spit. But common sense kicked in and warned him that wouldn’t be a good idea.
Then cop one dragged Reid onto the front lawn where blue lights twirled against the darkness. “You’re going to be sorry,” he muttered as the officer shoved his head down and pushed him in the back seat.
“That sounds like a threat,” cop two mumbled.
“Damn right it does,” the other cop said. “Let’s add threatening an officer to the charges.”
Reid gritted his teeth as the officer slammed the car door. Dad blast it, he’d keep his mouth shut until he reached the police station. Then he’d demand his phone call and figure out what the hell was going on.
And why these bozos thought he was stalking Lucy.
Emmet pressed the boa over his mouth to stifle a laugh as the police car roared away.
Did that bastard really think Lucy loved him when she belonged to Emmet?
At least the cops had taken care of the smuck. Obviously hammerhead didn’t know where Lucy was or he would have called her to verify his story.
A stroke of luck for him.
Except he still had no idea where Lucy was.
He slipped from the closet, Lucy’s boa wrapped around his neck.
He had to find her before the cops realized they had the wrong guy.
He grabbed his phone and sprawled on her bed, draping her underwear over him.
“The police must have alerted Lucy,” he told his friend when he answered. “I think she left town. I need a trace on her phone.”
“Are you sure you want to go that route?”
“Just do it,” he said impatiently.
His buddy made a clicking sound with his teeth. “All right. You should know something by tomorrow.”
Emmet ended the call, then found a local reporter’s name from the newspaper on the table and called the number. A young woman named Jewel. She was probably hungry for a story.
“I have an anonymous tip,” he said. “Police just arrested a stalker at the home of Lucy Lane.”
“Who is this?” Jewel asked.
“I don’t want my name mentioned, but I witnessed the arrest myself. The man’s name is Emmet Roach. He escaped prison and broke into Lucy’s house.”
“Thanks,” Jewel said. “I appreciate the information.”
“Good, I’m sure Miss Lane wants to know she can come home for Christmas.”
He dropped the phone in its cradle, then closed his eyes and imagined being with Lucy.
She’d wear the red lace teddy trimmed in white lace, the one he’d put in her stocking. He’d dress like Santa Claus and pretend to come down the chimney, then they’d strip, and he’d dribble eggnog on her belly and lick it off.
Then they’d make love on the floor in front of the fireplace.
Everything would be perfect. They’d get married and welcome the new year as man and wife.
Yep, Santa was finally coming to see him this year. It was going to be a jolly, jolly Christmas and a happy new year!
Chapter Five
Reid struggled to remain calm as he was fingerprinted, processed and tossed into jail.
Lance was going to kill him.
He’d seen the inside of a cell when he was a teenager, but that was half a lifetime ago when he’d been angry and rebellious.
Now he had a business with his brother and was respected in the community. If his arrest got out, it could cause problems for their company.
A prisoner in the next holding cell banged on the bars, ranting about aliens while two drunks in the cell next to him demolished Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall with their slurred singing.
Reid gripped the bars and bellowed his innocence. “Give me my phone call. I’m innocent.”
“Shut up,” the alien guy said.
He yelled again, but no one came. Dammit, why wouldn’t they listen to him?
Did he look like a crazed stalker?
The tattooed skinhead in the cell with him played drums on his legs with his hands while a cross-dresser in a Mrs. Santa outfit whined in the corner, insisting he hadn’t been soliciting in front of the fancy B & B where he’d been picked up.
It was going to be a long damn night.
He stared at the clock and paced the cell. But as the minutes rolled into hours and midnight struck, his mind traveled down a dark path.
If the police thought he was stalking Lucy, they had a reason. The fact that she’d rushed him away added to his anxiety.
Come to think of it, he hadn’t actually seen her leave her apartment.
What if something had happened to her?
He mentally reviewed the facts. She was upset after that phone call the other morning. And tonight, her clothes and shoes had been scattered all over the place as if someone had rifled through them. As if someone was staying there.
Either Lucy was cheating on him, or she was…in trouble.
He gripped the bars of the cell and yelled for the guard. He just couldn’t sit in this cell and rot if Lucy needed him.
“I need my phone call,” he yelled again.
The skinhead next to him laughed. “Good luck with that one, buddy. They usually make you wait twenty-four hours.”
Twenty-four hours?
Reid yelled again and banged on the bars until his voice was hoarse. But the skinhead was right.
No one came.
Finally he sank onto the floor in the corner and closed his eyes. He’d tough it out tonight, but in the morning, they’d better give him his call.
He just hoped something bad hadn’t happened to Lucy.
Lucy laughed as the women gathered around, listening to Ellen read sex tips from a book on sex for seniors that she’d received in her Secret Santa gift bag.
“Do you have a boyfriend, Taylor?” Sue asked.
Lucy polished off her peppermint martini. “Well, yes, I do.”
“What is he like?” DeEtte asked.
“I bet he’s a hunk with a six-pack,” Nelda said.
“Yeah, and not one with Bud’s name on it,” Ellen joked.
“Are you two doing the deed?” Mae asked.
Lucy laughed. “You mean sex?”
Willene narrowed her eyes. “You don’t have to get personal, Mae. Just because getting laid is all you think about doesn’t mean everyone else thinks about it all the time.”
“I wished men thought about it more,” Sue mumbled.
“Of course they’re doing it,” DeEtte said. “All the young folks do it.”
“You know what they say about not buying the cow if you’ve had the milk,” Ellen said.
“That’s just old fashioned,” Mae said.
“Taylor?” DeEtte said. “Is he good to you? I mean does he satisfy you?”
Lucy blushed. “Well, yes, he does,” she said, remembering the wicked things he did with his tongue. “It’s just…I don’t know if he wants to ever get married.”
“Oh, no, one of those commitaholis,” Sue offered.
“Commitaphobics,” Ellen corrected.
“You have to give them a little incentive,” Mae said.
Willene frowned. “I don’t think baking pies works for the young kids.”
“My coconut cake gets me some loving every time, “ Ellen said.
Inez made a tsking sound to Ellen. “But we’re talking about marriage, not getting someone in the sack.”
Nelda raised her eyebrows and winked. “Honey, the secret is to keep him guessing.”
Ellen murmured Amen. “Yep, keep him fed and sexed up, and he’ll be faithful.”
Lucy fidgeted. All this talk about sex only made her ache for Reid. “Thanks for all the advice, ladies, but I’m going to turn in now.” Although she might ask Ellen and Mae for their recipes later. She had conquered the sex thing, but she couldn�
��t cook worth a damn.
“Don’t forget your Secret Santa bag,” Mae said as Lucy stood.
Lucy eyed it as if she thought spiders might crawl out of it any minute, but retrieved it and headed to the door.
The women dispersed, agreeing that Ellen would pass her new book around when she was finished.
The clock struck midnight, and Lucy scanned the Sunset Vista property as she carried the Secret Santa bag back to her unit.
Everyone in the group had a Secret Santa except her.
So who had left her a gift?
She checked over her shoulder again, then let herself inside the condo and flipped on the light. Nerves skittered through her as she scanned the living room/kitchen combination. Everything looked the same. The plain beige walls and sofa, the bowl of fruit Wallace had ordered to be sent to the condo, the painting of the seashore, and the calendar that reminded her how many days she’d been gone.
And how many days until Christmas day.
Frustrated that Wallace hadn’t caught Emmet, she checked the bathroom and bedroom. Her underwear drawer was closed. A good sign Emmet hadn’t been here.
The photo she’d brought with her of Reid stared at her from the bedside table. Tears threatened, but she swallowed them back.
Wallace would catch Emmet soon. He had to. Then she could go home and everything would be all right.
Resigned, she walked back to the kitchen, fixed herself a cosmo, then
pushed the tissue paper in her gift bag aside. Surprise stole through her as she lifted a slinky red halter dress from inside.
A card fluttered to the floor, and she picked it up and read it.
A pretty dress for a beautiful woman.
A shiver rippled through her. It was exactly the type of sexy dress Emmet would have chosen.
Had he found her?
Her finger shook as the punched Wallace’s number. He didn’t answer, so she left a message.
“Call me. I have to know if Emmet’s found me.”
Her hand trembled as she stuffed the dress back inside the bag.
Then she carried her drink to her patio. A cruise boat sailed by, Christmas lights twinkling. Voices and laughter drifted to her in the breeze. A party was on board, Christmas carols wafting through the air.
Lucy had never seen anything so beautiful in her life.
But she had never been so lonely either.
Twice she’d walked along Venetian Drive down to Atlantic and strolled the streets, which were filled with tourists and locals enjoying the coffee shops and restaurants. She’d even gotten a little shopping in.
Yet each step she’d taken, she’d searched the crowd for Emmet, afraid he was watching her.
Even now, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was lurking in one of those small fishing boats docked along the pier.
2 days until Christmas
Reid woke to the sound of a rhinoceroses growling. No, a pack of them.
A symphony of similar sounds roared through the cellblock, reminding him he hadn’t spent the night in his own bed.
That he’d been arrested for stalking the woman he loved.
It was also Christmas Eve, he had no gift for Lucy, and not a clue where she was.
Footsteps clattered, the sound of a baton banging the cell doors echoing, then a guard stopped in front of him. “Reid Summers. Come with me. A federal marshal wants to talk to you.”
Reid’s heart tripped a beat. A federal marshal?
Keys jangled as the guard unlocked the cell door and gestured for Reid to go with him. Reid followed beside the man, reminding himself to remain calm.
If he acted like a crazed person, they’d lock him back up.
Five minutes later he was seated in an interrogation room, his handcuffed hands splayed on the table. A low light hung over the scarred table, the room bare except for the table and three straight chairs.
He tapped his foot on the floor while he waited, straightening when a tall silver-haired man entered. His face looked slightly haggard, his eyes steely gray.
“Mr. Summers,” he said. “My name is Marshal Bannister.”
“What’s going on?” Reid asked.
Marshal Bannister folded his arms. “What were you doing in Lucy Lane’s apartment?”
Frustration knotted every muscle in Reid’s body. “She’s my girlfriend.”
The marshal’s eyes flickered with interest. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” Reid said. “We’ve been dating for the past few months.”
“Hmm.” The marshal studied him. “She didn’t mention you to me.”
“Why would she?” Reid asked. For cripes sake, surely Lucy wasn’t two-timing him with this crusty codger.
Marshal Bannister leaned forward. “Listen, Mr. Summers, this is serious. According to the police, you broke in and Miss Lane’s clothing and shoes had been strewn across her bed and closet.”
“First of all, Lucy showed me where she keeps the spare key,” Reid said. Although come to think of it, why hadn’t she given him a key? Because she didn’t want him catching her with another man? “And second, I didn’t make that mess.”
“When did you last see Lucy?”
Reid mentally counted back the days. “Six days ago. I spent the night with her, then she received a phone call from her agent saying he’d scheduled an audition for Lucy. She packed in a hurry and I left. I haven’t heard from her since.”
“So what were you doing at her place last night?”
He hesitated. If Lucy was trying to dump him, he was going to look like the biggest fool ever.
“Mr. Summers?” Marshal Bannister said tersely.
“I wanted to surprise her with a Christmas tree.”
The man’s mouth tightened, but Reid thought he was fighting a smile. “Was anyone at her apartment when you arrived?”
“No,” Reid answered. “At least I didn’t find anyone there. But the stove was hot as if someone had just used it, and there was a bubble bath waiting in the tub.”
“You didn’t run the bath?” Marshal Bannister asked.
Reid shot up from the table, his anger churning. “Hell, no. When I saw it, I thought maybe…never mind.”
“Maybe what?”
Reid paced to the wall and turned to face the Marshal. “That maybe Lucy lied to me, that she hadn’t left town. That she was seeing someone else.” If the man was seeing Lucy would he fess up now?
Marshal Bannister made a low sound in his throat, then glanced at his phone. A knock sounded at the door, then another officer stepped inside, leaned over and whispered something in the man’s ear. Bannister cursed, then stood.
“Excuse me, I need to make a phone call.”
“Wait just a damn minute,” Reid said. “What the hell is going on? The cops accused me of stalking Lucy. Why would they think I was a stalker?”
Bannister tugged at his tie, indecision on his face.
“I have a right to know,” Reid said. “Did something happen to Lucy?”
“I hope not,” Bannister said. “But you are free to go, Mr. Summers.”
Perspiration beaded on Reid’s neck. “What does that mean? You hope nothing happened to her?”
“Just go home,” Bannister said. “And let the police take care of the situation.”
“Take care of what situation?”
But Bannister didn’t answer. He was already punching a number on his phone as he left the room. The guard gestured for him to follow him, then escorted Reid through security. His handcuffs were removed, and a heavyset woman in a uniform handed him his personal items.
He grabbed his phone and keys, then hurried outside.
Dammit, he didn’t have a way home. He’d have to call Lance.
No, he didn’t want Lance to know what had happened.
He dialed Lucy’s number and prayed she’d answer and tell him that this whole mess was a big misunderstanding. But the phone rang and rang, then a recording clicked on saying her message box was full.
So she hadn’t been picking up her messages?
That was odd. Lucy’s car didn’t crank unless she was on her cell phone.
Worry knotted his insides as he hunted for a taxi. If the police thought he was stalking Lucy, did that mean she actually had a stalker?
If she did, why hadn’t she told him?
Early morning sunlight glinted off the water, signaling another beautiful day in Delray as Lucy stepped onto her patio. She waved to the Silver Sneakers as they headed down to the beach wearing their reindeer antlers. She could hear the jingle bells on their shoes and their chatter all the way down to the jetty.
Still, Lucy felt glum. Two days until Christmas and no word from Marshal Bannister.
Her phone beeped that she had a text, and she read the message from her sister.
Call me asap. Newspaper story this morning said police arrested a man named Emmet Roach for stalking you. What’s going on? Where are you?!
Lucy jumped up and squealed. The sound must have carried in the breeze because the Silver Sneakers turned and looked at her. She waved that she was fine, then covered her mouth to stifle another cheer.
But her relief was short-lived.
If the police had Emmet, why hadn’t Wallace Bannister informed her?
Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Lucy told herself. This means you can go home!
Wallace was probably dealing with the paperwork, making sure Emmet didn’t get out this time.
Knowing her sister was worried, she punched Sophie’s number. Her sister answered on the first ring, her voice strained.
“Where have you been?” Sophie asked. “I’ve been frantic, and Reid has called a hundred times.”
“Slow down, sis, everything’s okay now.”
“What do you mean, it’s okay now? I thought you flew to L.A. for an audition.”
“That was my cover story,” Lucy said, hating that she’d been forced to lie. “I had to leave town.”
“So the story about the stalker is true?”
Lucy noticed a man on the beach and squinted to make out his face, then realized she could stop searching for Emmet everywhere she turned. “Yes, I’m afraid so. But he’s back in jail, so it’s over.”
“You mean you had a stalker and didn’t tell me?”
