I watched her for a second and thought, Go get him, Angel. It was time for her to let go of Hugh. If Bob could help her do that, I hoped he would unroll his fire hose and go to work.
The interview room door behind me opened. “Boss?”
“I’m coming, Blaine.” I turned and went inside. We had set up twelve folding chairs for people who wanted to watch the video. The oak table was pushed into a corner and had wine, cheese, and coffee on it. Blaine indicated a seat up front next to him. I passed several people I knew, including Linda, Dom, Grandpa, TJ, and Joel. Blaine turned on the tape.
I sat back and watched. Blaine had done a fabulous job. I was in some shots, but mostly he showed clients and couples happy with Heart Mates. It was a fast-moving six-minute video, complete with music. As the music faded, I felt so proud I nearly cried. Blaine and me, we were a hell of a team. We were going to succeed with Heart Mates. I had to look down to regain my composure. Then I looked back up to the TV screen.
Omigod! My heart tripped so that a second of air locked in my lungs.
There I was in full color—the picture that Dee had taken of me. Caught snooping in Gabe’s office, holding that envelope, and my clothes rumpled and stained from the fight with Zack in Angel’s house. My face was a frozen shot of guilt.
The caption read: Samantha Shaw caught red-handed while pursuing her beloved hobby of snooping.
Laughter broke out. Hard, gut-rolling, can’t-breathe laughter.
I looked over to my ex-assistant sitting smugly on my right. “You are so dead.” I stood up and had to fight back a smile. OK, damn it, it was funny. Gabe had gotten his revenge.
And where was Gabe?
I didn’t care how injured he was, that man was going down. I looked at Blaine. “Where is he?”
Blaine stopped laughing and reached into the breast pocket of his shirt. “He’s next door.” He held out a key.
I frowned at the key. “Next door where?” I took the key. “What’s this?” I already had Gabe’s house key.
Blaine looked bored. “He’s in the office that was just leased.”
I looked down at the key, then to the picture of me on the TV screen. The one where I was holding that envelope. There was supposed to be a lease agreement inside that envelope. Then I looked at Blaine. “Gabe leased that suite. And you knew it.”
A pleased smile cracked his face.
“Men.” I stalked out of the interview room, passing a few stragglers who hadn’t left yet, and went out the front door. Turning left, I stopped at the door of the suite next to mine, stuck the key in, and opened it.
Inside, it smelled of musty air scented with warm vanilla. “Gabe?” Fear tickled the back of my neck. I’d just walked into a dark building the night before and nearly lost both Gabe and Angel.
“In here, babe.”
The fear left at the sound of his deep voice. I went in. There were two candles burning on top of a card table, and a bottle of wine and two filled glasses. Underneath the card table was a lantern set on low. Next to the card table was a brown leather couch—just like Angel’s. Gabe sat on the couch. He had his right arm in the sling cradled in his lap. His left arm was stretched out on the back of the couch. I stopped a few feet from him. “That looks like Angel’s couch.”
“Angel had it repaired for you. We figured it would be too crowded in Heart Mates to bring it in for the open house so we left it here for now.”
I fought down a smile. That sounded like Angel. But I was here to yell at Gabe for publicly humiliating me at my open house. And leasing the suite next to mine in secret. “Really? Then get off my couch, Pulizzi.” If he thought that the sling was going to save his butt, he didn’t know me very well.
Gabe rolled up to his feet and towered over me. “What’s the matter, Sam? You look upset.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I look better than I did in that picture.”
He did a slow search with his eyes, down and back up my red halter dress.
“Stop that.” It pissed me off that he could turn me on when I was trying to be mad. And maybe I was a little scared. What was Gabe up to? “Let’s talk about why you leased this suite without talking to me.”
He quirked up his eyebrow. “You saw the envelope with the lease agreement inside it.”
“I didn’t open it.”
He grinned. “Only because my assistant showed up before you could figure out how to open it without me finding out. Then you ran off my assistant.”
“You fired her,” I pointed out.
Gabe’s eyes hardened, his nose flared, and his mouth thinned. He reached out, picked up a glass of wine, and polished off half of it. Then he looked at me. “No one gets between me and you when you are in danger. Dee knew the rules.”
I shivered. For a flash, I saw the primitive man in Gabe, the street fighter with his own brand of justice. I stuck my hand out and snagged the remaining glass of wine. Taking a sip, I knew I wasn’t afraid of Gabe. It wasn’t fear of him that trembled through me, but fear of the depth of our feelings for each other. It wasn’t supposed to be like this—the soccer mom and the dangerous ex-cop.
But it was. And I knew what he meant. I’d felt the exact same thing when I realized Mitch had shot him and was going to finish him off. My brain had slid into a kill-or-be-killed gear that I thought only existed for my two sons.
Gabe settled his gaze on me. “The end result is the same—I need an assistant.”
I looked over my wineglass. “You’re not making sense, Pulizzi.”
“You have an excellent assistant.”
Outrage reared up in my head. “You leased the suite next to me to steal Blaine? That’s low!” A stab of guilt tore into my stomach. I couldn’t afford to pay Blaine what he was worth. Gabe could.
“Jesus, babe, you are looking a little bloodthirsty. I’m not going to steal Blaine.” He set his wineglass down, then reached out to cup my cheek. “He wouldn’t leave you, you know.”
I did know that. “Then how would you get my assistant? Do you think he’s going to work for both of us? Run back and forth between suites? Use call forwarding?”
He caressed my cheek. “It’d be easier if we removed the wall separating the offices. Put Blaine in the middle and hire him help when the time comes that he needs it. I’ll match what you pay him.”
Stunned, I stood there trying to make sense of it.
Gabe took the glass from my hand and set it down. Then he reached out and pulled me to him with his good arm. “Is it that hard to trust me, babe? Take the leap—I swear I’ll catch you if you stumble.”
Oh, hell. My mouth was dry. I was taking a bigger step into Gabe’s world, a world that fascinated me as much as the world of romance. I loved Heart Mates, but I wanted more. “You want me to train for my PI license.”
He said softly, “It’s not a matter of what I want. It’s what you want. We already know you are going to make a success of Heart Mates, but is that enough for you?”
I reached up, touching his face. He had shaved before the open house. His face was smooth and taut. I could feel the tension in him. He was asking me to take a risk, but he was taking just as big a risk. “I want to do it.”
The tension drained from him. He kissed me, a soft and gentle kiss. He broke the kiss and stepped back. “We’ll start right now with some basic training.” He reached to the small of his back.
And brought out a pair of silver handcuffs.
I backed up. “You wouldn’t dare! Besides your arm is hurt. You have stitches.” But he would, and I damn well knew it. I had to think fast.
Gabe kept my stare while dropping the cuffs on the table. Then he used his good arm and he pulled me into his hard body. “I won’t have to fight with you, sweetheart. We’re going home, and you are going to be very cooperative when I cuff you to my bed.” He slid his hand over my hip. “Then show you my surprise.”
I blinked, the heat of his hand making me hot enough to want to be at his sexual mercy. “What surprise?”
Against my mouth, he whispered, “Sex toys. And I have extra batteries.”
His kiss didn’t need batteries.
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I watched Gabe stride out of the office, noticing the way the tool belt was slung low over his hips and emphasized his tight butt. My phone rang and ruined the moment. Since my assistant was over on Gabe’s side, I grabbed the phone, “Heart Mates Dating Service.”
“Sam! It’s Rosy.”
Rosy Malone was a long time friend of my grandparents and one of the seniors who gather every morning for coffee and gossip at Jack-in-the-Box. Rosy was retired from the University of Riverside where she had taught literature. “Hi Rosy, how are you?”
“I’m mad as hell, that’s what I am. You have to do something, Sam!”
I sat down in my chair. “I’ll try, Rosy, tell me what’s wrong?” Rosy wasn’t typically the hysterical or dramatic type. Had Grandpa broken into her hospital files again? Last time Rosy claimed she was having gall bladder surgery, Grandpa broke into the files to find out she was having a face lift.
“It’s Barney, Sam. He’s been arrested!”
I shot up out of my chair. “What?”
Rosy kept right on going. “That upstart young detective marched in here and hauled Barney off to the slammer!”
“Vance,” I hissed through gritted teeth and squeezed my fingers around the handset of the phone. That sounded just like Detective Logan Vance. The man was so damned arrogant. And sun-god handsome. Not that I cared how handsome he was. Vance and I never saw eye to eye on anything.
Rosy demanded in my ear, “What are you going to do about it, Sam?”
Kick some detective-bootie, that’s what I was going to do. “Don’t you worry, Rosy. I’m on my way right now to straighten this out.” I hung up and thought, Grandpa, what have you done?
The Lake Elsinore Police and Sheriff station was housed in a red brick building with green trim that looked more like a corporate office than a police station.
I went through the glass doors to the receptionist behind the window on the left. “I’m Samantha Shaw. I understand that my grandfather, Barney Webb, has been arrested by Detective Vance.” I took a breath and tried to clamp down on the urge to say that Vance had better get his sorry ass out here and explain himself. “I’d like to speak to Detective Vance and see my grandfather, please.”
The receptionist listened, touched some numbers on a phone, spoke into her headset, then looked up at me. “If you’ll take a seat, someone will be right with you.”
I went to the glass case holding photos of the local soccer and Little League teams. Okay, I was pissed at Vance. I thought we’d gotten past some of our animosity. Why hadn’t he let me know if Grandpa was in trouble?
“Took you longer than I expected.”
I turned around. Vance wore a light gray suit that fell in excellent lines around his swimmer’s shoulders. He had on a shimmering black button down shirt, no tie. Beneath his short-cropped dark blond hair he zeroed-in his light brown gaze on me. “It was a little hard to get the story from Grandpa’s friends.” I put my hands on my hips. “Why did you arrest him?”
Vance’s cop face softened and his dimples winked as he grinned. “I didn’t arrest him. He came down to the station voluntarily.”
“Oh.” The heat leaked out of my outrage. I sucked in my lips, thinking about those old gossips. Now I started off looking like a fool in front of Vance. Again. Nothing to be done now but brazen it out. “Where is my grandfather?”
“In my office. Come on,” he held the door wide open for me to walk through.
I passed by him, catching a whiff of his faint coconut and sun scent. Vance shut the door and led the way to his office, which was really a cubicle off a long hallway. Grandpa sat in the corner with a Styrofoam cup of coffee.
“Hi Sam. Guess the gang blabbed, huh?”
I went into the cubicle and kissed Grandpa’s weathered check. “Rosy called me. In her version, you were arrested and dragged off to jail.”
“Sammy, no handcuffs can hold me. I came because Detective Vance asked me to.”
I didn’t like this. I turned so I could see both men. “What’s going on?”
Vance sat in his chair with wheels. “A serious accusation has been made against your grandfather. It appears that someone broke into the place where Shane Masters was staying last night. Mr. Masters says the man had a gun and intended to kill him. But one of Mr. Masters’ two dogs attacked and bit the right hand of the man. He ran off.”
I gaped at Vance. “Shane Masters is accusing my grandfather of breaking in and trying to kill him?” What planet was Vance from? “Grandpa doesn’t even have a gun!” He had a switchblade, but I figured this wouldn’t be a good time to mention that. I turned to Grandpa. “Why would Shane Masters accuse you of trying to kill him?” It didn’t make a lick of sense.
“To clarify,” Vance said in his high brow voice, “Shane Masters said Barney hired a hit man to kill him. There’s no dog bite on Barney’s hand so I’m pretty sure he wasn’t the one who actually broke into Shane Masters’ place.”
I swung my head back to Vance. “What? A hit man? That’s crazy! What do you think? That Grandpa hired a hit man at Jack-in-the-Box over coffee and a Breakfast Jack?” Where does one go to hire a hit man? This was insane!
Vance reached for a piece of paper carefully tucked into a protective plastic sleeve and slid it across the desk to me.
I looked down at it. It was an e-mail, and it read, “Spoiler magicians are not welcome in Lake Elsinore.” A spear of hot dread hit my stomach. I looked up at the return e-mail address.
It belonged to Grandpa.
Damn. Fighting to keep my face blank, maybe confused, I said to Vance, “So? No legitimate magician likes these guys. What’s the big deal?”
Vance had a square cut face with a strong chin; he met my stare. “It could be interpreted as a threat, particularly when Mr. Masters received hundreds of these. After contacting a few people who sent e-mails like this, they all said Barney Webb was behind the campaign to keep Shane Masters from performing his show in Lake Elsinore.”
Dark, sweaty fear arrowed deep into my gut. “Grandpa, what did you do?”
He shrugged. “Just had some friends make their opinions of Masters’s spoiler magic show known. There’s no crime in freedom of speech.”
Oh God. I should have called Gabe. He would know what to do. I turned back to Vance. “See? It’s all innocent. Can we leave?”
Vance looked past me to Grandpa. “Where did you say you were last night between nine and eleven PM?”
Grandpa fixed his milky-blue eyes on Vance. “I didn’t say.” He took a breath, then added, “Am I under arrest? If you have any more questions, I want a lawyer.”
Cripes. “Grandpa, just tell him where you were!” Where had he been? He’d gone out and come home late. I just assumed he went to play cards with his friends. Seeing the stubborn set of Grandpa’s face, I shifted back to Vance. “What does it matter anyway? You know Grandpa wasn’t the one who tried to kill Shane Masters.” I could barely keep up with the situation or my own rattled thoughts.
“The attacker went somewhere when he left Mr. Masters’ place. So far there’s no report of adult males with dog bites at local hospitals. So maybe whoever hired him was waiting for a report, and helped the attacker doctor up the dog bite.”
Tension pulsed behind my eyes and wrapped around my neck and shoulders.
Grandpa set his Styrofoam cup on the desk and stood. “Am I under arrest?”
Vance stood too. “Not as of yet, but I’m working on it.” He started out of his cubicle.
I caught Vance in the hallway and put my hand on his arm. The muscles clenched into granite. I ignored the warning signs and said, “Vance, you can’t
believe my grandfather’s involved in this!”
He glared down at me. It looked like it hurt to unclamp his jaw. “Shane Masters is famous. He came to Lake Elsinore expecting to be welcomed, not attacked by a hit man. And your grandfather is involved in this, Shaw. Masters believes your grandfather hired a hit man, and he has thinly veiled e-mail threats to back up his claim. All your grandfather needs to do is answer a simple question about where he was!” He wrenched his arm from my hold and stalked off.
Probably to kick a kitten.
Damn, Vance was in a rare fury. Grandpa was in trouble, serious trouble.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2005 by Jennifer Apodaca
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ISBN: 978-0-7582-9120-2
Jennifer Apodaca - Samantha Shaw 04 - Batteries Required Page 27
