A Done Deal

by Jenna Bennett

  “I haven’t had the car looked at for a while. No money. Maybe if I had this wouldn’t have happened.”

  That was three times today I’d narrowly cheated death. The almost-accident on the interstate, which could have gone badly wrong. Then the run-in with Hector, and now this. It was almost as if someone was gunning for me. Although it hadn’t been Hector in the white compact; he hadn’t known I existed then. And I doubted he’d gone outside to rig my car while I was unconscious in the warehouse. Why would he? He’d planned to kill me, so it wasn’t like I’d be driving home afterwards. Unless he hoped that Rafe might be the one to drive my car after I was dead, but that was an awfully big chance to take. He might end up killing some totally innocent grease monkey who worked for Bailey’s Towing instead. And whatever else I may have thought about Hector, he wasn’t stupid.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Rafe hesitated. “Looks like one of the fuel injection lines came loose.”

  “Wouldn’t we have smelled gas leaking?”

  He shook his head. “See, the gas starts out in the gas tank. When the fuel pump starts working, the gas goes through the fuel injection lines into the fuel distributor. If there’s a loose connection, some of the gas is gonna splash on the engine. When the engine temperature gets high enough, the gas can ignite. But none of it’s gonna happen until the car’s running. And by then it’s too late to notice any smell at all.”

  I blinked. “How big a deal is that? A loose fuel injection line? Is it a big deal?”

  “Depends,” Rafe said. “If you know what you’re doing, not that big.”

  I nodded. He’d taken care of it quickly enough, anyway. “But you know a lot more about cars than I do. If I’d been alone...”

  “Don’t think about it.”

  “I have to think about it. Could it have been an accident?”

  He shot me a look. “You think it wasn’t?”

  “It’s the third time today I almost died.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Hector. And what else?”

  I told him what had happened on the interstate earlier. “It could have been an accident. But maybe not. The guy behind me, who stopped to check on me, said that the other car was a white Toyota. And...”

  He nodded. “We saw a white Toyota the other night.”

  “That’s why I went to see Heather in the first place. I thought maybe it was her car.”

  “But it wasn’t?”

  I shook my head. And then qualified it. “Not unless she has two. She pointed to a Dodge van. She said a sedan wouldn’t be big enough for her staging supplies.”

  “But she might have another car. One she doesn’t drive to work.”

  I nodded. She might. And she would have had time to mess with the Volvo while I was inside the warehouse with Hector. Maybe she thought that if I survived, I’d call the police and implicate her, and she was trying to avoid going to jail.

  “Damn.” Rafe looked around. “What the hell is taking Tammy so long? I wanna get you outta here and home. And then I wanna go find Heather Price and beat some answers out of her!”

  “You don’t know that it was her,” I said.

  His eyes were black with anger. “Maybe not. But by the time I’m done with her, we’ll have some answers one way or the other.”

  He glanced over his shoulder again as a car came up the street. “Here she is. Let’s get you home and warmed up.”

  “Can’t I come with you to look for Heather? I’d feel safer with you.” And my presence might keep him from losing it completely. I’d never thought he’d be the type to hit a woman, but he’d sounded serious about taking his fists to her to get answers.

  “No,” Rafe said and opened the back door of the unmarked police car for me, “you can’t. You’re going home, and you’re going to bed, and you’re gonna stay there. Where I won’t have to worry about anything else happening to you.”

  He slammed the door and got in the front next to Tamara Grimaldi, who was watching me in the rearview mirror. I made a face. He could at least have stayed in the back with me.

  “How are you?” Grimaldi asked, and I focused on her instead of my disappointment.

  “Fine. I wasn’t the one who threw myself on a burning car.”

  She shifted her gaze to Rafe. “You did that?”

  He shot her same kind of look he’d given me. “Someone had to.”

  “You could have just let it burn,” I said.

  “No, I couldn’t,” Rafe said.

  Grimaldi added, after a quick glance at him. “If someone didn’t put the fire out, the car could have blown up.”

  For a second I was speechless. Then—

  “You told me it was no big deal.” My voice was at least an octave higher than usual, and could probably be heard by dogs in a wide area. Grimaldi winced. Rafe, of course, didn’t. That didn’t stop me. “You said it wasn’t dangerous. And now it turns out the car could have exploded? And instead of leaving it alone and getting us both away from it, you threw yourself on the engine?!”

  “Someone had to,” Rafe said.

  I huffed and sat back, folding my arms across my chest.

  “So what happened?” Grimaldi wanted to know. I listened as the two of them, both obviously more knowledgeable about cars than I, discussed the mechanical ins and outs of what had just taken place.

  “Well, could it have been an accident?” the detective asked.

  Rafe shrugged. “Call the Volvo dealer and they’ll tell you one of their fuel lines could never, ever work itself loose. But I’m sure it’s happened. No way to know if it did this time.”

  “When was the car serviced last?”

  I didn’t bother answering, since I’d already told Rafe the answer. “She says it’s been a while. But that don’t matter. You call the mechanic and ask if he checked the connection, he’s gonna say he did. Doesn’t mean shit.”

  “Who’d know how to do this?” Grimaldi asked. “Anyone? Or does it take special knowledge?”

  “More knowledge than some people have.” I don’t think I imagined the glance into the back seat. No, I would have no idea how to sabotage a fuel injector. In my world, women drive cars, men work on them. Rafe added, “Anyone with a basic understanding of how a combustion engine works woulda known what to do.”

  “Does it take much strength?”

  He shook his head. “Wrench and the knowledge of where the fuel lines are located. And a few minutes of privacy.”

  Which he or she had had while I’d been tied up inside the warehouse.

  It’s just a mile or two from River Road over to Fifth and Main, so we were there within a few minutes. The conversation wasn’t even over when Grimaldi pulled up to the curb outside the condo complex and moved the gearshift into park. “I’ll wait. You take her upstairs and get her settled.”

  “It could take a few minutes,” Rafe warned.

  “No doubt. Just get back as quick as you can. The more time we lose, the more likely it is we’ll miss Heather.”

  Rafe nodded and opened his door.

  “You can come upstairs,” I told Detective Grimaldi while I waited for him to open mine. Not only have I been brought up to wait, but it was a police car, so the inside back door handles were missing. “It’s not like we’ll be doing anything you can’t see.” Not with the way he was chomping at the bit to go after Heather Price.

  The detective’s lips twitched in the mirror. “Thanks, but I have a few phone calls to make. I want to see if Spicer and Truman have dug up any information on the accident the other day. Whether there’s any connection to you.”

  God, yes. Aislynn and Kylie. Whom I had promised to drive home from the hospital tomorrow.

  “When can I have my car back?”

  “Not sure,” Grimaldi said, as my door opened, and Rafe extended a hand to help me out.

  I ignored it for the moment. “I promised Kylie Mitchell I’d drive her home from the hospital tomorrow.”

  “I’ll send Spicer
and Truman to do it,” Grimaldi said. “Safer that way, anyway. For all of you. Until we figure this out, I want you to go inside and stay there. No wandering around on your own. No investigating anything.”

  “You’re as bad as he is,” I muttered, and took the hand Rafe offered. I did my best not to let the warmth and feel of his skin against mine affect me, although I didn’t do a very good job. I could feel myself melting just from the brief touch. Since I didn’t want him to know—as if there was any chance that he didn’t already—I told him, snippily, “You don’t have to walk me up. I can find my own way.”

  “Sure.” He headed for the gate. “Yeah, I’m gonna leave you down here and drive off with Tammy. And when you get upstairs, Heather’ll be there, waiting for you.”

  “Heather won’t be there.” But I didn’t tell him again that he didn’t have to walk me up. Not because I thought Heather might be there, but because I was afraid he might believe me and actually leave. And in spite of being miffed at him, and at his habitual need to put himself in danger, I didn’t want him to go any sooner than he had to. Every minute was precious, and I didn’t want to miss any.

  We walked up the stairs in silence, and just like last time, Rafe made his way through the apartment room by room and closet by closet before declaring that it was safe. I followed him, three steps behind, and we ended up in the middle of the floor of the bedroom, facing one another.

  I’d been unforgivably lax in getting up and out this morning. After Tim’s call—and all the other phone calls, but especially Tim’s—I’d been so excited about getting to the hospital to tell Aislynn and Kylie the good news that I hadn’t bothered to make the bed. A horrible faux pas in mother’s book of proper behavior, especially if there was a chance someone might stop by and notice my lack of housewifely instincts. Double strike if it was a man.

  This man didn’t seem to mind. The bed looked rumpled and inviting, and all I wanted to do was crawl under the covers, close my eyes, and sleep my headache away. Judging from the look on Rafe’s face, he seemed to share the sentiment. His gaze snagged on the bed for a moment, and when he looked back at me, his eyes were darker than usual, filled with heat but also with something softer, something almost like longing. Like he too just wanted to crawl in, get close together, and rest. Whatever it was, it made the breath catch in my throat.

  Of course, it could just have been a while since he’d had a decent night’s sleep, but I wanted to believe he wanted what I wanted.

  “You could join me,” I said.

  He smiled. “No, I couldn’t. Tammy’s waiting, and if I join you, I won’t be leaving again today.”

  “You could come back after you catch Heather.”

  He shook his head. “I gotta go to Atlanta, darlin’. I’d stay if I could, but we’ll all sleep better when Hector’s back where he belongs.”

  True. “I guess this is it, then.”

  “Guess so.” But he glanced at the bed again.

  “Want to tuck me in?” I suggested. His lips curved at that, but he shook his head no.

  “Better not. Tammy’s waiting.”

  I nodded. “You should go. Make the world a safer place. And come back when you’re done. I’ll still be here. So will the bed.”

  He didn’t say anything, just looked at me. So I took a couple of steps forward and went up on my tippy toes to press my lips against his for a second. I was on my way back down when he snagged me around the waist and kept me there, plastered against him, stomach to stomach and chest to chest.

  “Thought for a minute I lost you, darlin’.” The words were spoken into my hair; his cheek against the top of my head, as if he wanted to make sure I couldn’t look at him when he spoke.

  My heart was beating too hard to make answering comfortable. Although I did manage to utter a few words. “I thought so too.” And not just for a minute. For weeks.

  He lifted his head, and used a finger under my chin to tilt my face up toward him. “I ain’t gonna come back and learn that you’ve gotten yourself engaged to Satterfield, am I?”

  I shook my head. “But just in case, maybe you’d better give me something to remember you by.”

  He arched a brow. Just one. “You afraid you’re gonna forget me?”

  Never. But of course I didn’t tell him that. “Better safe than sorry, right?”

  “Damn right,” Rafe said, and kissed me.

  As always, it was an out-of-body experience. I floated, oblivious to anything but his arms around me and his mouth on mine. And when he lifted his head, after what could have been an eternity but which probably was just a minute or so, the dizziness from earlier had returned, full force. The room spun, and I swayed.

  Rafe chuckled. “Lie down before you fall down, darlin’.” He gave me a gentle push toward the bed.

  I righted myself and did my best to gather the shreds of my dignity. “I’ll see you out first. And make sure the door’s locked.”

  “Fine. But then you go straight to bed. You need to save up your strength. I have plans for when I come back.”

  He grinned. I grinned back. It was nice to flirt again. This was how he used to talk to me, before all the angst of getting pregnant changed things. Maybe we’d be all right after all. Maybe he didn’t love me, the way I loved him. Maybe he did. Maybe one day he’d tell me, one way or the other. But for now he liked me. And wanted me. And that in itself was a start. I could wait for the rest, as long as he stuck around. Or as long as he came back every time he left.

  He passed through the apartment and out the door and stopped in the hallway outside. “I wanna hear locks and bolts before I leave.”

  “You will. Just promise me you’ll be careful out there.”

  “I’m always careful,” Rafe said.

  No, he wasn’t. But he also wasn’t going to change. “Don’t wait too long before you come back.”

  “A week. At most.”

  I could live with that. “And if you change your mind on your way down the stairs, just come back up. Tammy can handle Heather. I’d be happier to have you stay here.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Rafe said. “Bye, darlin’.”

  “Goodbye.” I closed the door. Slowly. To give him time to change his mind.

  “Lock it,” his voice said from outside.

  “I know, I know.” I flipped the lock closed and then slid the deadbolt. “Happy now?”

  There was no answer. I put my eye to the peephole and saw nothing but empty space. He was already gone.

  But he’d be back. And as I made my slow way toward the bedroom, shedding layers as I went, I thought about those plans he had for me when he got back. I’d been on the receiving end of Rafe’s plans for me before, and the occasions had been memorable. I left my boots in the hallway, my skirt in the living room, and my blouse on the floor in the bedroom, and by the time I was ready to crawl under the covers in bra and panties, I was smiling. And that’s when there was a knock on the door.

  Chapter 20

  My heart jumped. He’d had just enough time to run downstairs, tell Tamara Grimaldi that he’d changed his mind about Heather, and hustle back up the stairs again.

  I practically ran into the hall, all tiredness forgotten, without bothering to wrap anything around myself. He’d have me out of my lingerie in no time flat, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it all before anyway. My hands fumbled over the locks and deadbolts, and I pulled the door open with a big smile. “I knew you’d—!”

  Only to stop when I found myself looking into the muzzle of a gun.

  My first thought was, not again!

  Over the past couple of months, I’d seen more than my fair share of firearms. I wasn’t as used to them as Rafe, who—frankly—acts like being faced with another gun doesn’t bother him in the least, but it wasn’t my first stick-up. There’s something about it that never gets old, though. Each time is like the first time. Probably because each time can kill you.

  I don’t think what went on in my head could be cal
led ‘thinking’ precisely, but a lot of things flashed through in rapid succession. Processing, forming theories and discarding them at the speed of light.

  First of all, it obviously wasn’t Rafe coming back for an interlude between the sheets. My second flash of insight, that Hector was back, came and went in a nano-second. I’d seen him driven off in the ambulance and there was no way he’d be upright and mobile so soon. Then Heather flashed into my mind: maybe she hadn’t gone home, maybe she’d come here instead, to kill me if Hector didn’t. Maybe she’d shot Rafe already; maybe he’d never made it back outside. He could be lying on the stairs, his blood soaking through the gray industrial carpeting. And I was here, at gunpoint, and couldn’t help him, while Grimaldi was outside in the car, with no idea that anything was wrong. Unless Heather had killed her, too.

  It was at that point that I managed to pull my attention from the gun up to the face of the person holding it, and my mind tilted again. “What—?”

  “You’re a lot harder to get rid of than I thought,” Maybelle Driscoll said.

  For a second I just stared. Then— “Where’s Rafe?”

  First things first, after all. And not only because I was worried for his health and well-being, but because I was worried for mine. If he was hurt, he wouldn’t be able to come to my rescue.

  “That young man who was here?” She wrinkled her nose. “Hardly the kind of man a young lady like you should be associating with, is he?”

  “You sound like my mother.” And there was something almost calming about it. “Where is he?”

  “He drove off.” She huffed. “I thought he never would.”

  So at least he wasn’t bleeding to death in the hallway downstairs. That was the good news. The bad news was that he was gone, and I couldn’t count on him or on Tamara Grimaldi to come to my rescue.

  “He was only here a couple of minutes,” I said. “Nowhere near as long as I wanted him to be.”

  Maybelle took a step forward, into the apartment. Since she had the gun, I didn’t try to stop her. Maybe I should have. I could have tried to slam the door in her face, or on her arm, but I was afraid she’d shoot me if I did. So I just stepped back and let her walk inside.