by Adrianne Lee
Nanette’s professionalism spoke volumes. Whatever Mark had told his partners about them, the private stuff was still private. Between her and Mark. Her mother’s words about spending her life with the right man came back to her and she knew she’d been fortunate to realize that Reese was not that man, but she was terrified of losing the one who was.
She heard voices in the kitchen and knew she could probably sneak up to his private living quarters without chance of interruption, but decided she didn’t want Mark searching for her. She moved toward the fireplace, gazing at the love seats, her mind reeling with sensuous memories that quickened her pulse.
Mark came through the swinging door, wiping his hands on a towel. The sight of him spread warmth through her and eased her anxiety, despite the fact that his expression was tight, worried. She knew her showing up unexpectedly had alarmed him.
He rushed to her. “Is something wrong with Josh?”
“No.”
“Did someone come after you?”
“No. I’m fine.” She lowered her voice. “It’s Reese. He wants to meet with me this morning and I left my engagement ring in your bathroom.”
“Oh, God.” Relief broke the tension in his face, and he caught her by the upper arms, grinning. “I’d hug you, but you’re clean and as you can see, I’ve been cooking and sloppy with it, distracted by thoughts of you.”
“Mark, listen to me, there’s more—” But he cut her off, holding her slightly away from him, his lips finding hers, possessing hers. The hourglass heated against her breastbone. She sighed, every other thought slipping from her head as he released her. She murmured, “As much as I’d like to follow that kiss to its natural conclusion, I haven’t time. I need the ring.”
“Oh, yeah, Reese’s ring.” He scowled.
“Mark, he didn’t go to the Sonics’ game last night. He called around six and left a message with my mother about changing his plans and being free to take Josh and me to dinner.”
Mark arched an eyebrow. “So, he has no alibi for the time we were shot at?”
“No.”
“What about Jay-Ray?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I haven’t returned any of Reese’s calls yet. But I’ll find out over breakfast.”
The distress returned to Mark’s face, and he grazed her cheek with his knuckles. “Be careful what you say to him.”
“Don’t worry.”
“I can’t help but worry about you. Now, where did you say you left that ring?”
“On the toilet tank. On a piece of gauze like the one on your head.” She walked with him to the stairs, touching the edges of his bandage making sure they were secure. “How is your wound, by the way?”
“I haven’t looked.” He stopped, his grip on the banister, gazing down at her. “Maybe you should come upstairs with me and check it.”
His smoldering gaze caressed her, and her mind and body responded in kind. She sighed. “I know exactly where that suggestion is meant to lead…right back to your bed.”
He grinned his sinfully inviting grin.
She moaned, fighting the temptation swirling through her. “Oh, Mark, we can’t… Not right now…”
She nodded toward the kitchen, silently telling him that she wouldn’t want Candee or Nanette coming upstairs to investigate strange noises issuing from his bedroom.
“Coward.” He chuckled, kissing her nose. “I’ll get the ring and bring it right down.”
As she waited, Livia paced from the sitting area through the foyer and back to the staircase. What was taking so long? The nerves in her stomach seemed to be playing tetherball, and she kept pondering the fact that Reese had phoned so many times. It was unlike him. He’d called only three times during the whole week she’d spent in bed with the flu. But last night he’d called and called, as though it were urgent that he reach her. Truly odd. The only people who got that “urgent treatment” from him were clients.
So, why the urgency?
Was he the killer? The one who’d shot at them in the warehouse? If so, then he’d known where she was, who she was with. So why was he trying to reach her? Had he wanted to find out whether or not he’d managed to wound either or both of them?
Or had he been trying to reach her at all? Perhaps he intended the calls only to establish an alibi.
The thought sent shivers through her and she couldn’t forget how cold the hourglass had felt. How very very cold.
A warning.
The door to Mark’s private suite opened and she rushed to the bottom of the stairs. He shook his head. “I can’t find it.”
“What?” Disbelief drove her up the stairs toward him. “What do you mean, you can’t find it?”
“It’s not where you said. In fact, it’s nowhere. Look for yourself.”
She took the stairs two at a time. In the bathroom, she noted the things she’d used to attend to his wounds were in exactly the same places she’d left them. Everything but the ring. There was nothing on the gauze cloth. She shoved down a rising panic and dropped to her knees, searching around the base of the toilet, checking the back of the tank. No ring.
She rose and looked at him, puzzled. “I left it right on this piece of gauze. But it’s not here anywhere.”
“I swear I didn’t touch it.”
She shook her head at the idea that he would take it and hide it from her. He understood this wasn’t a game they were playing. “I know that.”
“I swear I didn’t see it there this morning when I was in here, either.”
“Well, if you didn’t take it, and I didn’t take it, who did? It couldn’t have gotten up and walked away.”
He scowled, puzzling the problem. “No one’s been here but Candee and Nanette, and neither of them has been upstairs.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
Livia felt the hourglass turn icy again, as cold as the brick forming in her stomach. “Someone was here, Mark. While we were here. Someone took my ring.”
“No way. The house was locked.”
“Are you sure of that? You didn’t check when we came in last night.” She gazed at him pointedly. “I managed to get into this ‘locked’ house. Why couldn’t someone else?”
“Maybe one of us knocked the ring into the toilet bowl during the night and didn’t notice.”
As much as she wanted to believe his explanation, she knew in her gut that it wasn’t the right one. “If we had done that, the items on the tank would be disturbed, but everything is just as I left it and the gauze was at the back next to the wall. The ring would have had to slip past the tape and scissors and Mercurochrome to fall into the bowl. Someone had to have taken it or it would be here.”
He wasn’t convinced. He looked through the bathroom again.
She said, “Maybe we should check downstairs for signs of an intruder.”
He gave her a that-would-be-a-waste-of-time look, but followed her downstairs without comment. The door to the washroom was ajar.
“Look,” she whispered, her heart hammering.
Mark shook his head. “Candee or Nanette might have been in there this morning and forgotten to close the door tightly.”
“But that’s against policy,” she reminded him, arguing further, “It has to be second nature to them to shut it all the way.”
The door bumped against the jamb.
Livia started and stumbled back, her eyes rounding.
Mark stepped gingerly to the door and shoved it inward.
Damp winter wind blew in through the wide-open window.
Chapter Fifteen
RED HERRING GUMBO
Dice a Confusion of Clues
Into Heavy Speculation
Spice With a Fact or Two
Simmer All Day
Mark stalked to the window, lowered the sash, then swore. A circle had been cut from the glass right above the latch. He choked on the anger climbing his throat. He felt violated in a way he’d not thought possible. In prison he’d been
subjected to every kind of humiliating experience man could inflict on man, but someone stealing into the house while he and Livia made love, spying on them, invading his private space, his privacy, his most intimate moments—that was the ultimate violation.
He barely restrained the urge to put his fist through what was left of the window as he turned to her. “I owe you an apology, Livia. We definitely had company last night.”
She was the color of whipped egg whites. “Why didn’t we hear anything?”
The answer to that was obvious and fueled his blazing resentment. But he gave her face a gentle caress. “We were otherwise engaged, darlin’.”
She nuzzled his hand and blew out a shaky breath.
He glanced at the window again and stifled another curse. Entry had been simple enough, requiring little expertise. Remove the glass, reach in and undo the lock. “Candee and Nanette begged me to put in a hi-tech alarm system, but I wouldn’t do it. I didn’t want to deal with cops of any kind, not even rent-a-cops. Hell, I figured the worst intruder we’d get was some teenager after something to sell for drug money. I mean, sure the kitchen equipment is worth big bucks, but anyone wanting that would be specialized, and career thieves would come with a big truck and clean us out in minutes, with or without an alarm system.”
A blast of wind howled eerily through the hole in the glass.
Livia lifted the collar of her jacket, framing that angelic face he loved to kiss. She said, “I’d have thought after being shot at you’d rethink your stance on electronic alarms.”
“I didn’t have to. My partners took a dim view of the bullet hole in the kitchen window. We’ve arranged for one of the best systems on the market, but the installation had to be fit into the schedule. It should be installed by this time next week.” He plowed his fingers through his hair. “If I’d listened to them to begin with instead of being pigheaded, whoever did this last night might be in lockup this morning.”
“Stop beating yourself up.”
“I can’t help it. Every minute this goes on, people I care about are in jeopardy.”
She caught his hand and made him look at her, speaking low, “But were we in jeopardy last night? Were we really?”
He locked gazes with her, glad to see color returning to her face. “What do you mean?”
“If the person who shot at us in the warehouse was here last night, why are we still walking around?”
“I don’t know.” He considered that, then shook his head. “It doesn’t follow, does it?”
She worried her lower lip, glancing pointedly at the window. “Is there any clue as to whom it might have been, Mark?”
He studied the frame with renewed interest. “Just a scrape on the sill that seems to have been made by a heavy heel.”
“A man.” She hugged herself.
“Probably.”
The tetherball game restarted in her stomach with the fever of an overtime playoff. “You think it was Reese?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged, his black brows coming together in a frown. “I don’t understand why, if it was Reese, he didn’t confront us, or kill us.”
She thought about that a moment. “Remember what you said about prime suspects?”
He nodded. “Sort of.”
She hugged herself against another blast of chilly air, and continued, “If we were found together murdered in your bed, Reese would be the first one the police would suspect and if he didn’t have an airtight alibi, he’d be arrested and charged as fast as you were. In other words, if he did kill Wendy and framed you, he wouldn’t commit a murder that pointed to himself.”
Mark motioned for her to leave the bathroom and closed the door, cutting off the damp breeze. “After failing to kill us in the freezer in what would likely have appeared to be some sort of tragic accident, why didn’t the person firing at us in the warehouse finish us off there and then? I mean, he shot out the lights and fired a few bullets over our heads, but was he trying to hit us? Or kill us? He had a flashlight and a gun. He could have found us and finished us off. Instead, he ran.”
She considered this. “You think he was showing us he can take us out whenever he wants?”
“And wherever he wants.”
“So, he’s also striving to avoid a homicide investigation?”
“This time, yes. Certainly one that leads to Rayburn Grocers.”
Livia reached to touch the hourglass through the layers of clothing, the solid lump of it somehow reassuring. Something still didn’t make sense. I was shot with a bullet meant for Mark. The Processor said as much. Said if I was shot again, instead of Mark, I’d have to be processed into Heaven even if it wasn’t my time.
But if the killer didn’t intend for Mark to die by gunshot, how had she come to be shot in his place? Did that mean they would push the killer to such desperation he or she would use a gun even though it would stir an investigation? Or had the method of murder, as well as the time frame, been altered as she’d feared by her falling in love with Mark, leaving them totally clueless and vulnerable to whatever vile accident awaited them?
Mark intruded on her dark thoughts. “So, if murder wasn’t the motive for breaking in here last night, what was? Surely not robbery. Whoever took your ring couldn’t have known it wouldn’t be on your finger.”
The question sent her thoughts scurrying and her gaze winging to his. Was he wrong? Could theft have been the motive? “Is anything missing besides my ring?”
“Nothing obvious, that’s for damn sure—or my partners or I would have noticed it this morning.”
Livia inhaled deeply, catching the delicious aromas of baking pastries, something with strawberries and— An awful thought struck her. She caught Mark’s arm.
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“Last night when I came down here and got the cider, chocolate and strawberries, I noticed one of the knives was missing from the oak butcher block. It looked like a large one.”
“A knife? You think someone took one of my knives?” Alarm lit his golden eyes. “Dear God, you think he intends to frame me for another murder?”
“Is that so farfetched?”
“Hell, I hope so.” He spun away from her and into the kitchen.
Livia followed. Here the wonderful scents smashed together in a delight of fragrances, treats for Valentine’s Day. But instead of making her mouth water, the sweet aromas tightened the knot in her stomach. Candee was extracting a sheet of heart-shaped cookies from the oven as Nanette sat on a tall stool rolling out dough. Both glanced up, but neither seemed surprised to see one of their customers barging in on them while they worked.
Mark went to the counter where the butcher block stood. It was empty. A pulse throbbed in his neck as he pointed at it. “Are all of the knives in the dishwasher?”
“I suppose.” Candee set the cookie sheet down beside a bowl of red frosting and glittery sprinkles. “I ran a load earlier. Should be done by now.”
Mark opened the dishwasher, grabbed the silverware catcher free, then began jamming each knife into its respective slot, stabbing the blades to the hilt, a sure sign of the tangle of emotions she knew he was fighting.
He cursed. “It’s not here.”
“What’s not there?” Nanette scowled, alarmed at Mark’s behavior.
“Yes,” Candee agreed. “What’s up, Big E?”
Mark filled them in on the break-in and the possible reason for it.
“That’s it,” Nanette said, brushing her small hands together and sending flour flying as she stood. “I’m calling the police and reporting this.”
“Please, don’t.” Mark stood with one hand gripping the solid chrome handle of the largest knife.
Candee shook his head. “We respect that you don’t want to be questioned by law enforcement officers, Big E, but do you not see the wisdom of having some sort of report on record should it later be necessary?”
Mark exchanged glances with Livia, and she knew exactly what he was wrestling with. She nodd
ed for him to go ahead and tell them. He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t alone last night. And if the police come they’ll want a statement from both Livia and me. That could cause us more problems than it solves.”
Livia felt her cheeks warm, but she lifted her chin. She wasn’t ashamed of the way she felt about Mark, didn’t mind that his partners knew. She wished she could tell the whole world. Could break off her engagement with Reese and stop sneaking around. But that might never happen.
Neither Candee nor Nanette seemed shocked by Mark’s revelation, or judgmental, either.
They shared a look, shrugged and nodded. Candee said, “We won’t call the police.”
“This time,” Nanette added.
“Thank you.” Livia realized she was trembling. “I have to go, Mark.”
He followed her to the foyer.
She said, “Reese expects me to meet him for breakfast. He’ll wonder why I’m not returning his calls.”
Mark caught her by the upper arms and kissed her hard and long, then he gazed into her eyes, and she knew he was as reluctant to release her as she was to be released.
He said, “I wish you wouldn’t meet him.”
She breathed in his vanilla scent and memories of the night before flooded her, threatening to rob her resolve to go. “I have to. If he’s not the killer, he’ll wonder why I’m avoiding him. I don’t want to stir up trouble where none exists.”
“If he is the killer, you’re at risk every time you’re alone with him.”
The concern in his eyes fed her own worries. But she refused to give in to the paranoia. “He won’t try anything in a public restaurant.”
“What are you going to tell him about the ring?”
She rubbed at her naked finger. “I don’t know. I’ll think of something like…like…like it’s at the jeweler’s…that one of the prongs broke and had to be replaced.”
“That’s good. Believable.” He nodded. “Unless he stole it.”
She tightened her hold on her hand. “Why would he steal the ring? Why not leave it where it was?”
