An Unsuspecting Heart

by Linda Turner

  She slid between the sheets and switched off the bedside light, sighing as exhaustion claimed her once again. Maybe now she'd be able to get some sleep, she thought, punching her pillow into position. Just five seconds of uninterrupted mindlessness. That's all she needed.

  Out in the hallway, Ryan made his way to his room and quietly shut his door behind him. A heartbeat later, Grant followed, his tread heavier on the stairs. Katie's breath lodged somewhere in her throat, all thought of sleep vanishing as she waited for him to pass her room to reach his own. Long moments later, she heard the soft click of his door. Her fingers, aching from their unconscious grip on the sheet, relaxed.

  An hour later, the house was quiet, dark. The phone rang, an abrupt, unexpected cry in the stillness. Startled, her heart tripping in her breast, Katie snatched it up in mid-ring. "Hello?"

  "Katie MacDonald?"

  The man's voice was hoarse and rough—like the suspicious growl of a Doberman—and totally unfamiliar. Katie shivered and switched on the bedside lamp. "Yes," she managed calmly. "Who is this?"

  "Leo."

  Stunned, she almost dropped the phone as she scrambled to sit up. Excitement set her blood thundering in her ears. He'd called, she thought wildly, and they hadn't even been sure they were on the right track!

  "What do you want?" he demanded when she didn't say anything. "How did you get my name?"

  She'd have had to have been deaf to miss the wariness, the fear, in his voice. He was waiting for just one wrong word from her to hang up. Taking a deep breath, she waited for her nerves to settle before she said quietly, "I'm a friend of Sam Bradford's, Leo. I work for the Examiner."

  "I don't know nothing about his death," he blurted out. "I swear it! I talked to him one afternoon and that night he was dead. So if that's what you want to talk about, you're wasting your time. I don't know nothing."

  He was hanging up! "Leo, wait!" she cried. She couldn't lose him now, not when she was so close. "I didn't track you down to talk about Sam's death," she said quickly. "Well, not directly anyway. I was hoping you could help me with something Sam was working on when he died. If we could just meet somewhere … anywhere you want, you name it. Any time." Her fingers bit into the phone. "Please. This is very important."

  The silence that answered her plea seemed to last forever. Katie held her breath, waiting for the click that would cut her off, when he said, "I don't want to end up like Sam. I got kids—"

  "No one has to know you're helping me," she assured him. "We'll meet on your turf, wherever you feel safe. I'll never mention your name to anyone. You have my word on it."

  Her sincerity must have reached him. "Meet me in the alley next to the Blue Parrot in thirty minutes. Alone."

  "If that's the way you want it." Grant wouldn't like it, but he wouldn't know where she'd gone until morning. The Blue Parrot was a former Cuban nightclub located in a deserted warehouse in Little Havana. Five years ago, it had been all the rage, but then the owner was arrested for tax evasion and it had been closed down ever since. It was in one of the roughest parts of town.

  "And be careful. If someone should see you—"

  They could both end up like Sam. She paled. "Don't worry, no one will. I'll see you there."

  She was out of her gown and reaching for her jeans and a navy-blue T-shirt the minute she hung up. It would take her at least twenty minutes to reach the nightclub, and she didn't have any time to spare. Tugging on tennis shoes, she quickly tied them, then moved to her dresser to secure her hair at the nape of her neck with a rubber band. Seconds later, her heart knocking wildly against her ribs, she soundlessly opened her door and stepped out into the dark hall.

  The stairs were twenty feet away, and she knew the location of every creaking board. She cautiously found her way in the dark. Her hand touched the banister, her foot silently searched for the first step, when a door opened behind her and light spilled out into the hallway. She glanced over her shoulder and froze.

  Grant stood in the doorway of his bedroom, his chest and feet bare, a faded pair of jeans riding low on his hips. He took one look at her guilty face and dark clothes and strode down the hall to her. "Just where the hell do you think you're going?" he demanded, grabbing her arm before she could descend the stairs. "Who was that on the phone?"

  Katie felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of his hard, naked chest. Annoyed, she tried to focus on her earlier anger, but her eyes kept straying to his broad shoulders back-lighted by the light from his bedroom. Damn the man, why did he have to be so attractive?

  Jerking her arm free, she glared at him. "It was Leo. I'm meeting him in half an hour. Alone," she stressed.

  "Where?"

  The single terse word told her more clearly than a string of oaths would have just how tenuous his hold on his temper was. She edged slightly away from him, waiting for the explosion she was sure would come. "An alley next to an abandoned nightclub in Little Havana," she said defensively. "Damn it, Grant, don't try to talk me out of it. I'm going! This is the only lead we've got, and I'd be a fool to pass it up."

  He knew her well enough now to know that he'd have to hog-tie her and lock her in her room to keep her from going. "Let me get my shirt and shoes. I'm going with you."

  "But Leo said to come alone!"

  The fierce look he threw her dared her to argue. "I don't care what he said. I either go with you or you don't go. And standing here arguing about it is only wasting time you haven't got."

  Even in the dim light that filtered down the hall from his room, he could see the flare of anger in her eyes. But he had her and they both knew it. Without a word, he turned back to his room to finish dressing.

  Less than a minute later, he joined her outside next to her car, his shirt unbuttoned and beige boat shoes on his bare feet. He motioned her toward the driver's side. "You drive. You know where you're going and it'll save time."

  Katie slid behind the wheel and within seconds they were once again headed for Little Havana. The bars were all closed now, the streets almost empty. Traffic lights still changed at regular intervals at the major intersections, without regard to the lack of cars on the road. Katie resisted the urge to race through the red lights, her thoughts already leaping ahead to the meeting with Leo.

  Beside her, Grant stretched his arm across her seat-back and glanced casually behind them. Three blocks away, another car traveled in the same direction at a sedate pace. Uneasiness stirred in him, but his voice was calm as he quietly told Katie, "Take the next left."

  She shot him a quick look, her brows knit together in a frown. "But that's the wrong way. We want to go to the right."

  "I know, but I think we're being followed."

  "What!" Her eyes flew to the rearview mirror. The car was so far back she couldn't even see what make it was, but she didn't doubt for a moment that Grant was right. Her fingers clutched at the wheel before she made herself relax. "What do I do to lose them?"

  Grant's eyes glinted with admiration. He had to give her credit. She didn't rattle easily. "First we've got to be sure we're really being tailed. Turn left, but don't use your signal. Then turn again at the next left."

  She did as he instructed, then she watched in the mirror with growing dread as the other car speeded up to keep her in sight. It followed her turn for turn. She glanced at Grant. "Guilty as charged," she said huskily.

  "Damn!" he muttered. "That's what I was afraid of." Facing front abruptly, he scanned their surroundings with narrowed eyes. The street they were on was a main thoroughfare, lined with shopping centers, businesses and fast-food joints. Crossroads led to apartment complexes and subdivisions that were no doubt a mass of winding streets that would be as confusing as a maze. If they took a wrong turn, they could be trapped in a cul-de-sac and end up being another statistic on a police blotter—or they could get lucky.

  Grant's eyes glinted. He'd always believed in gambling on luck. "Hit the gas and take a right at the next corner," he said decisively. "Floor it if you have to
, but let's lose that sucker, whoever he is."

  Her heart in her throat, Katie flattened the accelerator and shot forward like a bat out of hell. Tires squealed behind them, but all her attention was on the curve coming up. Her pulse was racing as fast as the motor as she took the corner. She half expected the tires to leave the ground. They didn't.

  Grant gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You're doing great! A couple more turns and we're bound to lose him."

  They raced into the night, engine roaring, tires screeching in protest, taking corners at a speed that would have daunted a race driver. The other car was losing ground fast, when Katie looked up and blanched at the traffic light that suddenly appeared before her. It was red.

  "Grant!"

  His head snapped around. "Go through it," he ordered. But her fingers only tightened on the wheel. "Damn it, Katie! Go through it!"

  Resisting the urge to close her eyes and brace herself, she did.

  The siren she was unconsciously waiting for never came. She almost went limp with relief, but the man who was following them was still back there, his headlights shining in her rearview mirror to taunt her. Tension knotted the muscles at the nape of her neck. What did it take to lose this guy?

  As if he read her mind, Grant leaned forward suddenly. "You see that strip of shops in the next block? It looks like there's an alley behind it. Turn the corner next to it and whip into the alley and cut your lights. If we're lucky, the building will block us when we make the second turn."

  It was a slim chance, but the only one they had. Taking the curve as fast as she dared, Katie turned back almost immediately into the dark, narrow alley behind the stores and killed the lights. Twenty seconds later, the other car raced around the corner and streaked past the alley without slowing down.

  Katie sat rigidly behind the wheel, listening as the angry growl of tires gradually faded in the distance. They had won, but the realization did nothing to ease the sense of foreboding that threatened to choke her. Tracking down Sam's murderer was going to be every bit as dangerous as Grant had warned her it would be. How long would luck continue to stay on their side?

  "That was damn good driving," Grant said in satisfaction, turning to her with a quick grin. "Nothing like a car chase to really get the blood circulating."

  She snorted at that. "Thanks, but if it's all the same to you, my blood's circulating just fine. I don't know if I can stand any more excitement."

  "There's only one way to find out," he chuckled. "Let's go find Leo."

  * * *

  The Blue Parrot was located in a warehouse district that had fallen on hard times. A few of the buildings were still in use, but most were empty, with broken windows and doors, home to rats and vagrants. The club itself was dark and gloomy, its doors barricaded shut. The only indication of its glamorous past was the faded parrot sign that stuck out from the building like an old-fashioned theater marquee.

  Shadows filled every doorway and alley. The only illumination came from a streetlight on the far corner. Katie took one look at the narrow black alley that ran alongside the old club and knew why Leo had chosen it as their meeting place. From there, he could disappear into one of a dozen cavernous buildings without her even knowing which way he had gone.

  Grant's eyes followed hers. When he thought of how she had almost come here alone, he wanted to throttle her. Without a word, he reached for his door handle. If she thought he was going to let her go in there by herself, she was in for a fight.

  But Katie had no intention of objecting. If Grant hadn't been with her, she seriously doubted that she would have had the nerve to step into the dark void alone. She stiffened her spine, fighting back the need to edge closer to him. "Well, here goes nothing," she whispered as she moved into the alley. "We're ten minutes late. Let's see if he's still here."

  Their footsteps made only a suggestion of sound in the echoing silence. Somewhere off to the left, a rat scurried for protection in the all-consuming blackness. Katie tried not to think what else might be hiding in the night and called out softly, "Leo? Are you there? I'm Katie MacDonald."

  The quiet remained unbroken. Her heart sank. Then suddenly, from the back of the alley, a nervous voice said accusingly, "I told you to come alone!"

  "I'm a friend of Sam's, too," Grant spoke up. "You have nothing to be afraid of. My name is Grant Elliot, and we just want to talk to you."

  "No one will hurt you, Leo," Katie promised, taking another step toward him. Now that her eyes were adjusting to the darkness, she could just make him out at the end of the alley. The thin man with an angular face and deep set eyes took a long drag on a cigarette, then pitched it down and jerkily ground it out. He was as nervous as a cat.

  "We know what Sam was working on when he died, Leo. All we want is a little information and we'll never bother you again," she continued in a soothing voice. "It'll only take a few minutes. Okay?"

  A match hissed and flared, brightening the darkness for only a second. Katie saw Leo's flat, plain face before he raised his hand to light another cigarette. He blew out a stream of smoke. "What do you want to know?"

  "You said you saw Sam the day he died. Do you know what he was doing out in the swamps? Where he was going?"

  He nodded. "There was a meeting between the roller and Cantu and a Colombian."

  Katie stiffened, alarm bells ringing in her head. Dear God, she thought, no wonder Cantu was so cocky! He had the backing of one of the city's most powerful businessmen and he knew no one could touch him. "Who's the roller?" she asked suddenly.

  "The head of the Barracudas."

  Grant swore impatiently. This was getting them nowhere. "What's his name? You must know his real name."

  "No," he claimed innocently. "I've never seen him."

  "Then how did you know about the meeting?" Katie pressed, frowning. "How did you know the roller even exists? It's not common knowledge on the street."

  Leo took another drag on his cigarette. "I work for him," he reluctantly admitted. "I'm a truck driver. But I don't know who he is," he insisted. "I wouldn't know him if he passed me on the street. He calls me whenever he needs me to pick up or deliver something for him."

  Grant didn't need to ask to know that that something was drugs. "All right, so you're just a driver and don't know anything," he conceded flatly. "How did you first make contact with the roller? He didn't just dial your number at random."

  "My supervisor at my day job asked me if I wanted to make some extra money on the side. He told me to take one of the sugar trucks home and wait for a call." Even in the darkness, he could see they weren't happy with his answers. "Look, I just did what I was told and kept my mouth shut. People who ask questions wind up dead."

  "Like Sam," Katie whispered. "Oh, God, was Cantu the one who killed him?"

  Leo backed away as if she had struck him. "I didn't say that!" he cried. "I don't know who—"

  Suddenly, from the street that ran in front of the club, the soft purring of a car's motor set the night air vibrating. Cursing, Grant pulled Katie into a dark, recessed doorway just as a police car slowly cruised by, its spotlight searching out the black corners of the alley. Katie sucked in a startled breath and shrank against Grant's hard chest, waiting in horror for the path of light to find Leo. But he, too, had jumped into a concealing doorway somewhere.

  Seconds passed like hours. When the patrol car finally continued on its rounds, Katie's legs were shaking. "All right, Leo, it's safe," she choked huskily.

  Silence was her only answer. Leo was gone.

  * * *

  Chapter 5

  « ^ »

  They returned home with nothing but jagged bits of information that teased and confused them and refused to fit together into a cohesive picture. Under normal circumstances, Katie would have been grinding her teeth in frustration at the lack of details, but as the last few hours of the night dragged on, she was thankful she had them to occupy her mind. They kept her from thinking of Grant, lying in his own bed just a
few doors down the hall. She fell asleep with the informant's voice echoing in her head.

  She awoke late the next morning convinced that she had her emotions firmly in control. Her response to Grant on the porch had been a result of the lateness of the hour and the beer that had clouded her thinking. She'd make sure it didn't happen again. As for the investigation, a little sleep had helped to clear her thinking there, too. Whether he'd realized it or not, Leo had dropped some valuable information into their laps. He might not know the roller directly, but he received calls telling him when and where to pick up and deliver the cocaine. In company trucks. Sugar trucks.

  In south Florida, that meant only one thing—Glade Sugar, Incorporated.

  It was the only solid piece of information they had, and when she and Grant drew up across the street from the refinery early the following afternoon to check it out, Katie still found it hard to believe they were on the right track. Leaning back in the passenger seat of Grant's plain rental car, she pushed her sunglasses up her nose and studied the compound. A frown wrinkled her brow.

  "It just doesn't make sense. Why would a company like Glade Sugar get mixed up in drugs? Look at the place! Business is booming, and why wouldn't it be? Their sugar is in every grocery store and restaurant in the state."

  Grant slouched in the seat, his attention also on the activity across the street. She was right. Glade Sugar's corporate headquarters was every entrepreneur's idea of success. The main offices were housed in a flamingo-pink stucco building of art deco design, surrounded by a garden of palm trees, bougainvillea and hibiscus. A dozen trucks carrying the company logo were being loaded at the refinery, while other trucks delivered raw sugarcane to the mill. A stucco wall that matched the main building in color surrounded the entire compound.

  "Appearances don't mean a thing," Grant replied cynically. "For all we know, the company may be in debt up to its smokestacks."