The idea was appealing. So was the possibility that it might appeal to him, too. But sooner or later he’d have to know the truth. While he would be relieved that she’d never had a relationship with his brother, he would be put off by her lies. He would wonder what had been real and what had been calculated to find out Josh’s whereabouts. His trust would be damaged.
Or she could stick to her plan: find Josh, drag his butt into court, then return to her job, her reputation restored, her energy directed toward her next assignment. She could try to forget that Joe existed. Try to forget that kiss. To forget the something more that was pretty much destined no matter how they fought it.
The something more that could destroy them.
Or maybe save them.
Chapter 8
Joe was pushing his bike out the rear door of the coffee shop a few minutes past five when Raven appeared in the storeroom door. “Hey, Joe, there’s a guy here who wants to talk to you.”
Stopping short, he muttered a curse. Two years in this town, and no one had ever come looking for him, and now people were crawling out from under rocks. Thanks a whole hell of a lot, Josh.
So far, he’d heard from the ex-girlfriend, the U.S. Attorney’s office and the marshals service. Was there another federal office involved, or would this guy be from the Mulroneys? And did he really want to know? Why not just have Raven tell him Joe was already gone?
Because whoever the guy was, it would take him about three minutes to get directions to Joe’s house, if not from Raven, then from anyone else in town who knew him. And he did not want anyone who worked for the Mulroneys showing up at the house, not with Liz across the yard and Natalia next door.
Griping, he pushed the bike back into the storeroom, locked the door and returned to the dining room. “Nice clothes he’s wearing, huh?” Raven murmured as he passed her.
Very nice clothes. Probably five grand for the suit and another thousand for the shoes. Hell, the tie alone could have paid her salary for a month. Yeah, Joe’s money would be on the Mulroneys this time.
The man was standing near the wall, studying the foil packs of coffee beans for sale. He picked up one and gave it a sniff before turning it over to read the back.
“You wanted to talk to me?”
He turned and his eyes widened in surprise. “Jeez, when they said identical, I didn’t really think identical.” He extended his hand. “Daniel Wallace. And you’re Joe Saldana…right?”
“Yeah. I’m thinking about getting that printed on my shirts.”
“Not that anyone would take it as proof.” Wallace was black, looked about forty and had a friendly gaze and very good taste in clothes and watches—a Rolex—and even coffee. The bag of Kona he held sold for $42 a pound. “I’m with the firm representing Sean and Patrick Mulroney in their upcoming trial.”
“I figured.” Though, if he’d really expected someone from the defense side, it would have been some tough guys to intimidate Josh’s location from him.
“Everyone’s wanting to talk to your brother, aren’t they?”
“Everyone but me.”
“I can understand that. After all, whoever shot you was aiming for him. But he is still your brother.”
“And I still haven’t seen him since then. Sorry I can’t help you.”
He pivoted and took a few steps before Wallace spoke again. “Of course, we’d be happy to help you in return.”
Slowly Joe turned and backtracked. Marshal Ashe had theorized that the Mulroneys had paid Josh to disappear, or had used the promise of money to lure him to his death. They probably considered payoffs a necessary cost of doing business, just like coffee and mugs were for him. How much would they be willing to pay him for ratting out his brother?
“Help me with what?”
Wallace shrugged. “You have a nice place here, but with only two part-time employees, it must keep you pretty busy. We could assist you with staffing and expenses.”
“How much staffing? How many expenses?”
“You want to retire and let someone else run the business for you, we could make that possible. We could see that you get a nice annual income without having to work at all, unless you wanted to.”
Retire before thirty-five, live comfortably, and all he had to do was supply information that would get Josh killed.
It was a good thing they’d made this offer to him rather than Josh, because Josh probably would have sold Joe out in a heartbeat.
“I tell you where my brother is, and you take on the expenses of running my business while I reap the profits?” Joe frowned as if concentrating. “Granted, I sell coffee for a living, so I’m not real up on the finer details of law, but there’s got to be something illegal in what you’re proposing.”
“One wouldn’t be connected to the other,” Wallace said smoothly, and with a straight face. “There’s no crime in telling us where your brother is. And there’s no crime in the Mulroneys investing in your shop. Their business interests are diversified. This shop would fit nicely into their portfolio.”
Lawyers could explain anything so it sounded reasonable and legal, Joe reflected as he leaned against the nearest table. But a person would have to be blind to not see the connection between him giving up information and being rewarded with an investment in his business. His vision—as well as the U.S. Attorney’s—was damn near perfect.
“What do you want with Josh? Just to talk to him, I suppose.”
Wallace gestured agreeably.
“To persuade him not to testify or, at least, not to testify truthfully.”
“The information he gave the prosecution wasn’t truthful. We’d just like him to set the record straight. We want him to admit that he was wrong, or perhaps mistaken, about what he reported.”
“What if you found him and he refused to, uh, set the record straight. Then what?”
Wallace’s smile was even and friendly, and it made Joe think of nothing so much as a predator with its prey in sight. “Then we’d face him in court, of course. Provided he chose to show up. My clients aren’t murderers, Mr. Saldana, no matter what the government would have you believe.”
“Someone tried to kill me.”
“But it wasn’t them. Your brother’s been involved in illegal dealings since he was sixteen. He’s made a lot of enemies of the type far more likely to resort to murder than respectable businessmen such as Sean and Patrick Mulroney.”
Joe gazed out the window at the street. There weren’t many cars parked out front because most people had already run their Saturday errands. Kids were at the mall, hanging out, and most other folks were probably at home, thinking about dinner or a date or a lazy night in front of the television. Normal things.
Not talking to some investigator trying to convince them that inside was out, up was down and wrong was right.
“I’ve seen that pretty woman you’ve been hanging out with,” Wallace said, still in that smooth, easy manner. “You can’t convince me you wouldn’t like a little more time away from here to spend with her.”
A chill spread through Joe at the mention of Liz. They’d finished lunch nearly five hours ago, so Wallace must have been in town at least that long; he must have put off coming here for a reason. To find out more about Joe? More about Liz?
If he said no, would they threaten Liz?
Damn, he was tired of this.
Wallace turned serious. “You almost died because of your brother, and I’m willing to bet he never even said he was sorry. You don’t owe him anything.”
“I don’t owe you or the Mulroneys anything either, and I plan to keep it that way.” Joe straightened and gestured toward the door. “Unless you want some coffee, you should leave now.”
Deliberately he walked away, though everything in him protested the act of turning his back on Wallace. He circled behind the counter and went to stand beside Raven, who’d made herself a frozen coffee and was sucking it through a straw while flipping through the pages of People.
�
�You going home now?” she asked without looking up.
“Not until he’s gone. If he comes back, call the police.”
Her gaze jerked up, wide with shock. She looked at Wallace, then at Joe again. “Really? Who is he? What does he want? Are you serious?”
“No, just teasing.” He scowled. “Call me, and I’ll call the police.”
Wallace watched them a moment, clearly hearing their conversation. With a shake of his head, he pivoted and walked out the door, climbing into a Mercedes parked outside. He dressed better than the other people looking for Josh, and definitely had better taste in cars—and the money to indulge it. Blood money.
“He’s not dangerous,” Joe said. Just a go-between for dangerous people. “But for real, if he comes back here tonight, call me. And don’t tell him anything.”
Raven looked almost as pale as she used to when she’d accomplished it with dead-white makeup. “Are you in trouble, Joe?”
A week ago he wouldn’t have touched her hair for fear the spikes would cut or the gunk would latch onto his skin like superglue. Now he mussed it, just like he used to do to his girl cousins when they were kids. Just like Josh used to do to him when he called Joe baby brother. “Not me. Don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll see you Monday.”
He walked the bike into the alley and put on his helmet, but instead of heading straight home, he cruised around town for a while, looking for the unfamiliar Mercedes. He was starting to think Wallace had left town when he rode past The Jasmine, Copper Lake’s most luxurious place to stay, and saw it parked at the rear of the lot.
Swearing, he headed toward Wyndham Hall.
One of the benefits of riding a bike that had never occurred to him before: It was damn near impossible for someone in a vehicle to follow him unnoticed. No one was lagging behind, and no one drove past and circled the block to pass again. The only cars he saw between The Jasmine and his house were neighbors who belonged on the streets.
When he braked the bike in front of his house, the tension between his shoulders eased a bit. He pushed down the kickstand, then went next door, taking the steps in one stride, knocking at the screen door.
Natalia was on the couch, cell phone to her ear. When she saw him, she raised one finger to him to wait, spoke a few words into the phone, then disconnected and came to undo the hook on the screen. He stepped just inside.
“You didn’t have to cut your call short for me,” he said.
She shook her head. “I was just ordering a pizza from Luigi’s. What’s up?”
“Have you seen anyone around here who doesn’t belong?”
“Besides your brother’s girlfriend, you mean?”
“Ex-girlfriend,” he corrected, though there was that damned bit of doubt. At lunch, he’d believed her when she’d said she had no interest in getting back together with Josh, just as he’d believed her when she said she hadn’t committed any crimes.
But he hadn’t believed her when she’d said someday she would tell him what she wanted from Josh. And now that she wasn’t sitting in front of him, looking and sounding so damn sincere, he wasn’t sure about the rest.
Honestly, she wasn’t the one who could convince him that it was over between her and Josh.
He needed to hear it from Josh.
Everyone’s wanting to talk to your brother, Wallace had said, and Joe had responded, Everyone but me.
It hadn’t taken long to make a liar out of him.
“Ex-girlfriend,” Natalia repeated, bringing his attention back to her. Was that skepticism in her voice? Was she just placating him, or was he reading deeper meanings where there were none?
“Have you seen anyone?” he asked again.
She shook her head. “Why?”
He gazed at the television, muted for her pizza order, and recognized the movie playing as a thriller featuring U.S. marshals in search of a fugitive. He’d always thought the suspense and danger were nothing more than the stuff of movies, but here he was, getting visits from marshals and corrupt lawyers and almost run down on the street, and he wasn’t even the fugitive.
Maybe Liz had had a taste for danger and excitement, but he never had. He didn’t like looking over his shoulder or being suspicious of every unfamiliar face. He especially didn’t like that simply being seen with him might have placed Liz—or Natalia—at risk.
He turned to stare out the door and, of course, his gaze went straight to Liz’s house. There was no sign of her, but her car was in its parking space and the front door stood open. He could walk over there, climb the steps, knock at the door, and she would invite him in, and they could…
They could do all kinds of things, some of them very wrong. But they would feel so damn right.
“My brother’s in trouble,” he said at last, “and a lot of people are looking for him—the U.S. Attorney’s office, the U.S. Marshals, and I just finished talking to a lawyer working for the people he’s supposed to testify against. These guys have already tried to kill him once, but they shot me instead.”
He’d rarely said those words to anyone, so he wasn’t sure what reaction he expected, but Natalia’s was underwhelming. No shock, no murmurs of sympathy. Getting shot probably wasn’t an unusual occurrence in the world she’d come from.
Instead, she moved to stand beside him, her shirt sleeve barely brushing his. Her voice was quiet, controlled. “Do you know where he is?”
He hesitated, then shook his head. After another moment’s silence, he murmured, “But I might be able to get in touch with him.”
He didn’t want to. Truly did not want to talk to Josh ever again. Didn’t want to do anything that might lead the feds or the Mulroneys to him. He didn’t want any of the responsibility for his brother’s fate to fall on him, and he damn sure didn’t want to get Josh and Liz together again.
But he could warn Josh to stay away from him and their parents unless he wanted to get caught.
And he could ask him about Liz.
Beside him, Natalia reached out, her fingers resting lightly on the mesh of the screen door. Her nails weren’t polished, and her hand looked very small, delicate. “You should do that.”
But he really didn’t want to. “He knows people are looking for him. That’s why he’s hiding.”
“How long do you think he can hide on his own?”
Not long. Joe knew that. So did Liz. Standing on his own two feet was a short-term venture for Josh, at best.
“Get in touch with him, Joe. Find out if he’s all right. Convince him to turn himself in.” She paused before finishing in a whisper. “He’s the only brother you’ve got.”
Convince Josh to turn himself in? He’d have a better shot at making the sun rise in the west. But find out if he was all right…if he was still alive and kicking…And get the okay to go ahead with Liz—or not…
He looked down at Natalia, getting a perfect side profile as she stared ahead. “Do you think his being my brother still matters to me?”
She lifted her gaze to meet his. “Yes, I do. Just like my sisters still matter to me.”
Another intimate detail about her. He was surprised by her honesty, and compelled to be just as honest in return. “Yeah. I guess he does.”
Although she’d never invited physical contact, on impulse he hugged her, kissed the top of her head, then pushed open the door. “Be careful, Nat. If anything happened to you because of Josh, I’d have to kill him myself.” He stepped outside, then closed the door so it didn’t bang before finishing.
“And that would probably be a hard thing to live with.”
Liz had wasted too much time after her visit with Natalia watching the clock, waiting for Joe to come home, anticipating…
Him. Seeing him. Talking to him. Being with him.
Anything with him.
It was so juvenile…though if her girlish crushes had ever felt anything like this, she might have stopped beating up boys sooner. She had so crossed the line on this one. She shouldn’t have a single personal feeling fo
r Joe whatsoever. She shouldn’t have let him kiss her. Shouldn’t let him set one foot inside this house if he came knocking. Shouldn’t let herself cross the lawn and knock at his door if he didn’t.
She shouldn’t care.
But she did. Way too much.
In the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator, then stopped in the act of reaching for a bottle of water. It was wasteful, going through four or five of those a day, then tossing the plastic into the trash without a second thought. And she hadn’t even tried the tap water since she’d come here. She’d just assumed bottled had to be better when, truth was, a lot of the time, bottled just came from someone else’s tap.
But she’d already bought this case. Not drinking it would be just as wasteful as drinking it, right? As long as she didn’t buy more, wouldn’t it be more responsible to finish off what was already there?
Taking a bottle, she twisted off the cap and swallowed a big gulp. As she returned to the living room, her cell phone rang from its place on the sofa cushion. She picked it up as she dropped down, making the wicker creak. “Hello, Mika.”
“Guess who’s in Copper Lake? Daniel Wallace.”
“Lawyer to Chicago’s rich and indicted?”
“That’s him. He paid a visit to Joe at the coffee shop.”
“How do you know that?” As far as she knew, she was the only good guy in town keeping an eye on Joe, and obviously, the information hadn’t come from her. “Is Ashe still in town?”
“Yeah, coincidentally. He stuck around a while after talking to you guys to meet up with a friend from Augusta. He was leaving a restaurant after a late lunch when he saw Wallace and recognized him from the file photos.”
“Is Ashe headed back to Atlanta?”
“Yes, but before leaving, he followed Wallace to a B & B called The Jasmine. You know it?”
“I’ve seen it. I can’t afford it on what I get paid.” It was a gorgeous mansion a few blocks from downtown, restored to its prewar glory. Only people with money stayed at The Jasmine. Everyone else hit one of the cheaper motels.
Criminal Deception Page 14
