by Beth Ciotta
A few seconds later, someone knocked on the door.
Engrossed in her display Kylie shouted, “Not open until twelve!”
Another, more insistent knock. “It’s Jessica Lynn. Jessie. Jack’s sister.”
Kylie sprung into action and unlocked the door. The vulnerability in the woman’s voice shook her. The sight of her was nearly as troubling. She looked like a living China doll. Beautiful, but fragile. When had she gotten so thin? She was wearing a periwinkle-blue pencil skirt and matching cropped jacket. She’d brushed her straight black hair to a high gloss, and her makeup was celebrity perfect. Still, for all she appeared put together, Kylie sensed the woman was ten seconds from falling apart. “What’s wrong?”
“My heel broke.”
Looking down, Kylie saw the woman balancing on her right pointy-toed Jimmy Choo. The left was indeed minus a heel. She also saw Shy sitting on the sidewalk, just a few inches from Jessica. That dog sure seemed to have a thing for women in distress. “Uh. So, where’s the heel?”
Jessica held out her hand, displaying the detached three-inch spike. “I dropped Madeline off at school,” she said in a brittle voice. “Shy jumped out the open window and tried to follow her inside. I chased after the dog and…I’m not sure what I did, but my heel broke. I can’t go into court like this. I need to look my best when I face Frank. I need to feel confident when I…” Her pale skin flushed. “I know you’re not open yet, but…”
Kylie gently gripped the bright-eyed woman’s bony elbow and urged her and the sad-eyed dog inside. She noted the squad car parked across the street. Blushed when Andy waved. She just knew he was thinking about her in her birthday suit.
Dang.
“I’m not sure if I can fix your heel, Jessica Lynn,” Kylie said as she closed the door and turned. “Shoe repair isn’t my strong point.”
“Can you sell me a new pair?”
So her first customer was going to be the snappiest dresser in town? Great. “Uh. Sure.”
Shy curled up on one of Kylie’s new shaggy throw rugs.
Jessica kicked off her broken heels and padded straight to the new display of designer shoes intended to seduce the wealthy ladies of the Garden Club circle. She picked up a classy pair of sleek Prada pumps. “These are ideal. Do you have a similar style in a more conservative price range?”
Kylie blinked. A woman who favored top-shelf shoes searching for rock-bottom prices? Then she remembered the former pageant queen had taken a job as a waitress and, according to Jack, was determined to make her own way financially. Naturally, she couldn’t afford to blow three hundred bucks on one pair of shoes. Still, there was Jessica’s designer taste to consider. “I have a killer pair of Steve Maddens. Moderately priced.”
“How moderate?”
Well, jeez. Was she seriously that strapped? Concerned about Jessica’s pride, Kylie considered an alternative. “It just occurred to me that you must have dozens of awesome shoes in your closest. Are you worried that you don’t have time to run home before your court hearing? If you loan me your house key, maybe I could zip over and—”
“That’s sweet, but…” Jessica stiffened and gestured to her broken Jimmy Choos. “I won those as part of a clothing package in one of the pageants. The shoes in my closet were bought with Frank’s money. I’d rather not.”
Kylie started to say she understood, but she wasn’t sure she did. “I’ll get the Steve Maddens.” She hurried into the storage room and nabbed the appropriate shoe box, heart aching for Jessica Lynn. Suddenly, Kylie’s own life seemed like a veritable party. Her best friend was dealing with a troubled marriage and a seriously injured parent. Her new friend was apparently running for his life. And this woman had been raked over the emotional coals by her sleazebag husband.
Instead of resenting all the things she’d never experienced, Kylie counted her blessings. When she returned to the main room, Jack’s sister was padding around in her bare feet, eyeing all the changes. The vibrant walls and ceiling. The hip lighting and vintage shelving, the eclectic mix of shoes. Knowing Jessica Lynn Cortez was a woman with exquisite taste, Kylie had to ask. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s…unique. An impressive blend of old and new. Stylish and practical. I think you reinvented the family business.”
Kylie nearly wilted with relief. “You know my brother. Think he’ll kick my ass?”
“If he’s smart, he’ll kiss it.”
Kylie smiled. “Coming from you that means a lot, Jessica Lynn.”
“Please call me Jessie. The apple sneakers are cute,” she said as she sat in a zebra-painted chair and allowed Kylie to fit her with a new shoe.
“Custom-made by a woman named Dixie,” Kylie said. “She runs a Web-based store called Bada-Bling!”
“A one-woman show?”
“As far as I know.”
“Like you.” She sighed. “I really admire you for running your family’s business, Kylie.”
Embarrassed, she shrugged off the compliment. “It’s easy when you love what you do.”
“I’ve never had to work before, and though serving beer and wings is honest work, I don’t plan to do it forever. Unfortunately, I can’t think beyond today. I just have to get through this morning and then…” She trailed off as if realizing suddenly that she was rambling on about herself and her life—sort of like the old Jessica. She cleared her throat, flexed her foot and admired the pointy-toed black pumps. “Perfect, Kylie. Thank you.” She glanced at her watch, then, hands trembling, opened her small designer handbag. “How much do I owe you?”
The woman was on her way to get divorced from a jerk who’d repeatedly cheated on her. A man who’d deserted her and their daughter. Kylie felt guilty about taking money from someone whose life was falling apart, especially the sister of the man she loved. “You know what’s even better than moderately priced? Free. Which is what these heels would be if you were an employee of McGraw’s Shoe Shoppe.”
Jessica licked her pink-glossed lips. “I don’t understand.”
Kylie stood and pushed her new flower-power glasses up her nose. “You know that thing about me being a one-woman show? Well, I’m sort of over that. I want a life. I mean, more of a life. Outside of work, that is. Your brother and I, well, we clash a little but mostly we click.”
Jessica quirked her first smile. “I think you’re a good match.”
“You do? Well, that’s good. Great, actually. Hopefully, Spenser will feel the same. Anyway, I’m hoping the renovations and new stock will boost business. I need help and you know shoes.”
Jessica stood, her fingers gripped tight on her handbag. “You’re offering me a job?”
“It doesn’t pay much. Actually, I don’t know what it pays. I need to figure that out. Hopefully, I can make it worth your while. I think you’re a perfect fit, pardon the pun.”
Shy barked, startling both women. The door creaked open and Kylie’s heart raced. She’d forgotten to lock it!
Get a grip, McGraw. Andy’s just outside.
Then she saw it was Jack and her pulse fluttered. Yay! Except Skully was with him. Dang.
“Three out of four of my favorite ladies.” Jack bent over to pat the eager dog’s head as she leaned into him. “The blonde here is Shy. You met Kylie,” he said with a warm look in her direction. “And this is my sister, Jessica Lynn Cortez. Ladies, this is U.S. Marshal Noah Skully.”
“Pleasure,” Skully said, looking directly at Jessica.
Kylie didn’t mind being invisible where that man was concerned.
Jessica looked mortified by his regard. Was it because she was self-conscious about her frail state, Kylie wondered, or because she hated all men just now? Frank, the bastard, had really done a number on her head.
“I need to go,” Jessica blurted. She looked at her new shoes, at Kylie. “I…”
“Catch up with me later. You know, after. We’ll grab a drink, chat.”
Jack looked at his watch. “The hearing’s in a half hour,
right?” he asked as Jessica bolted for the door in her shiny new heels.
She nodded. “But I’m meeting with my lawyer beforehand. If you’ve got business with Marshal Skully…”
Jack nabbed his sister’s hand and squeezed. “I’ll be there. Just need to speak with Kylie first.”
Jessica split and both men turned their attention to Kylie.
Dang.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
KYLIE’S OFFICE SUDDENLY seemed the size of a toddler’s oxford heel. Partly because Jack and Skully were so dang imposing. Partly because an ugly truth was closing in.
After urging her to sit, Jack crossed his arms and leaned back against the file cabinet. Noah Skully perched on the corner of her desk. Shy hid under it. Apparently the dog sensed trouble. Smart dog. Kylie felt trapped, smothered, and as the U.S. marshal shared a sordid, albeit sketchy, tale about Travis’s background and the events leading up to his entering the program, her lungs squeezed tighter and tighter.
“Poor Travis,” she rasped. “And all because he’s gay?” She was incensed, stunned. How could his brother disown him just because he was…different? And because the judgmental bastard had vented and outed Travis, a pair of homophobe past associates had beaten him within an inch of his life? Her stomach turned at the thought.
Jack frowned. “Did you miss the part about Travis being the lawyer for a major mob family? An organization run by his brother?”
Needled by his sarcasm, Kylie leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her churning stomach. “No, I didn’t miss that part. It’s shocking and disappointing, but not nearly as shocking as what happened to him all because he didn’t live up to other people’s expectations. It’s not like he wanted to be a lawyer. He wanted to be an interior decorator. And so what if he preferred men? So what if he was different? That didn’t make him bad.”
“No,” Jack said. “Manipulating officials, bending the law so his family could get away with an array of crimes made him bad.”
“But he didn’t kill anyone,” she blurted. “Not even the man he stabbed in self-defense. Marshal Skully said that goon got away and that someone else killed him later.”
“We’re pretty sure it was Travis’s brother or someone designated by his brother,” said Skully. “Retaliation.”
“Which doesn’t make sense,” Kylie said, “since his brother disowned him.”
“It doesn’t have to make sense,” Jack said. “We’re talking about the mob and you’re missing the point.”
“Criminal behavior is not exclusive to homicide, Miss McGraw,” said Skully. “The man you’re defending may not have participated in acts of violence, but he enabled them to happen.”
Kylie resisted the urge to cover her ears. She didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t want to taint the memory of the man who’d boosted her confidence and encouraged her to trust her instincts. The man whose artistic spirit soared throughout the new and improved McGraw’s. Her gut cried that Travis had sacrificed his own dreams for the sake of family, and boy, could she empathize with that. Granted, his family was shady and dangerous, but it’s not as if you get to pick your parents. Or your brother. The way she saw it, between sacrificing his passions, being beaten so badly that he had to get a new face, giving up his identity and then losing his wife to cancer, Travis Martin had paid for his sins. And for some reason, Kylie needed Jack to believe that, too.
“Travis associated with bad men,” she said evenly. “Was…is…related to bad men. But he also did a good thing. He cooperated with the feds to protect his wife. He testified against that rival mob family. Because he had all that inside information, the government was able to incarcerate seven mobsters. Seven dangerous criminals. Five of them guilty of murder!”
She felt as if she was talking in code. A code she didn’t have the key to. Marshal Skully had revealed a portion of Travis’s past without revealing his true identity or the identity of his brother or his attackers. He’d said it was to protect her as well as Travis—if he was still alive. Which he was, not that she was inclined to share that knowledge at this moment. Would the long arm of the law stretch all the way across the Atlantic Ocean to drag Travis back? And to what end?
Jack rubbed a hand over his face, clearly struggling for patience. “Looking at this through your eyes,” he said to Kylie, “yes, Martin was a stand-up guy for the reasons you stated. But his actions weren’t selfless. By ratting on made men he broke omertà, an offense punishable by death.”
“By testifying, Martin not only protected his wife, but himself,” said Skully. “And as a bonus, he got revenge on the family who disfigured him.”
Kylie stood to pace off her mounting anxiety. Too much information. I don’t want this stuff in my head, she wanted to say. But then Jack would think she was a wimp, and he’d go out of his way to shield her from the bad stuff in his life, his work, even at the expense of bottling up his own angst. She wanted to break that habit, not encourage it.
Her caretaker instincts kicked in. Forget sticking her head in a hole. She’d suck it up, get the facts and deal—a skill she had down to an art.
“Why are you telling me this?” she asked Skully. “Especially when you specified up front that this was against policy and that I couldn’t repeat a word of this conversation to anyone.”
“Because I asked him to,” Jack said. He caught Kylie as she paced past and pulled her into his arms. “Because I know you consider Martin a friend. I thought you’d grieve his death less if I shattered your illusion of the man.”
Kylie felt her calm slipping. Guilt stabbed at her conscience. Jack was trying to protect her, to comfort her, but because she’d been secretive, his efforts were misguided. “It’s not an illusion,” she said in a small voice. “He’s a good man who did bad things, but he’s changed.”
“You keep referring to Martin in the present tense,” Skully said from behind. “Based on his history, the crime you reported, and the fact that he’s missing—”
“I’m sorry I doubted you, Tiger,” said Jack, his gaze full of remorse. “If I hadn’t dragged my feet because of my own issues, the trail wouldn’t have grown this cold. But with the help of County and now the Marshal’s Service—”
“Stop.” The reality of the situation was crushing. By buying Travis some time, she’d caused countless others, including Jack, precious effort and frustration. She placed a trembling hand to Jack’s chest. “I don’t exactly regret withholding pertinent information, because I didn’t know it would cause so much trouble. Plus, I didn’t know about the mob stuff. I just thought…I thought Travis was a good guy who’d been at the wrong place at the wrong time. He seemed so sad and I thought he deserved a shot at happiness, so I didn’t tell you about the letter, although I had every intention to today. At some point. When the time was right, which doesn’t feel like now, but the longer I wait the madder you’ll be, right?”
Jack didn’t answer, but his eyes said, What fucking letter? If Skully hadn’t been there, he’d probably have backed her against the wall and lectured her on the perils of withholding evidence. Then he’d have made it personal. Why did you lie to me?
“I’m sorry.” Throat tight, Kylie backed away from Jack’s tense body and hurried toward the store’s safe. Her brain buzzed as she dialed the combo. She’d been on a roller coaster the past few days experiencing multitudes of emotional highs and lows. Just now she felt as though she was hurtling through space in a downward spiral. Falling off the water tower would have been less painful. Splat, you’re dead. Instead, she could feel the heart-wrenching demise of Jack’s trust.
“I know what I said I saw,” she rambled as she grasped the bulky envelope, “and I wasn’t lying, but I’m thinking, hoping, it was that role-playing thing, and whoever they were stuffing in the trunk wasn’t really dead, just playing dead. All I know,” she said as she straightened and faced the two somber lawmen, “is that it wasn’t Travis. It couldn’t be. He was already long gone.” And with that she plucked the handwrit
ten letter from the envelope and passed it to Jack.
He read the note, then passed it to Skully, who read it, then glanced at Kylie. “Mind if I hang on to this?”
What was she supposed to say? No doubt he considered it evidence. “I guess you’ll want the ticket and money, too,” she said, handing the U.S. marshal the rest of the goods.
“You sound disappointed,” Jack said. “Were you planning on using them?”
His flat tone and expression broke Kylie’s heart. She knew he could be cynical, but this was cold. What had he said last night? Numb was my comfort zone. Was he in the zone now? It was…disconcerting.
“He wouldn’t have flown under Travis Martin,” Skully said, breaking the tense silence. “Nor under his real name. If anyone knew how to get around legalities, it was the Artful Dodger. He’d purchase a false passport, credit cards. According to that letter,” Skully said to Jack, “he could afford it. Like I said before, I was only recently assigned to T.M., but I read his files and poked around. There were rumors he’d stolen a hefty amount of cash from his brother.”
“Dirty money,” Jack said, still staring down Kylie.
I get it, she fired back with a hot gaze.
“Wonder why he didn’t use it to take off before now?” Skully mused.
“Maybe he was worried about putting his wife at risk,” said Kylie. “No matter his sexual inclinations, it’s obvious he loved her. Now Mona’s gone and…” She trailed off, realizing she was once again defending Travis and that her efforts weren’t appreciated, especially by Jack.
“Think he made the flight?” he asked Skully.
“I think they intercepted him before he even made it out of town.”
“That’s my guess, too. How did they know he was here, dammit?”
“There’s only one explanation,” said Skully. “He broke the number one rule of the program by contacting a former associate or unprotected family member.”
Kylie snorted at the marshal’s arrogance. “How do you know one of your people didn’t screw up?”
