by Rita Herron
“Then I’ll flip it over,” she said quickly recovering.
“At least let me help you do that,” he said.
She hesitated a moment, then threw up her hands. “All right, help me flip it and then get out.”
He took a step closer, his gaze resting on the top of her towel where it was knotted above her breasts. “Don’t you think you should put some clothes on first?”
The moment he said it, he regretted it. He’d love to see that towel hit the floor, get a peek at the curves beneath it.
Marci shivered. “Of course.”
But she didn’t move, and a sliver of sexual tension rippled between them.
“Marci, I really want to help you,” he murmured. “Let me.”
She gestured toward the bed. “Then grab that end of the mattress.”
“I’m not talking about the damn mattress.” The temptation to touch her was too much. He tucked a strand of that wild hair behind her ear. Her lips parted, her breath whispering out.
“Detective?”
Desire bolted through him, making him yearn to pull her in his arms. Her eyes flickered with the same kind of heat that burned within him. She licked her lips, drawing his gaze to her pouty mouth, and he couldn’t resist. He traced a finger along her jaw, angling her face up as he imagined closing his mouth over hers. One taste.
That was all he needed.
Only one taste might not be enough. And that would be dangerous.
Still she looked so vulnerable, sweet even.
He remembered how Georgia had badgered her about her sister. He’d always come in second behind his own big brother, especially in his father’s eyes.
Had those insecurities driven Marci into Pendergrass’s arms?
Even if they had, had she known about his scheme?
Her earlier phone conversation taunted him.
No…he didn’t think she had.
“If you know anything about Pendergrass,” he murmured. “If you know where he is, tell me, Marci.”
For a brief moment, she almost looked as if she was going to talk. That she trusted him.
Then she shook her head. “You think I’m stupid just like that woman detective said, and now you’re trying to seduce me into a confession.”
Cade’s jaw hardened at her accusation. But hurt flared in her eyes making him feel like a jerk.
He hadn’t been trying to seduce her for a confession.
Had he?
No, dammit, he’d simply lost his head when he’d seen her in that towel.
But he couldn’t admit that.
And he couldn’t stay here and not want her.
So he backed toward the door. “Think what you want, Marci. But my offer stands. If you’re in trouble, I’ll do whatever I can to clear you.”
Marci released a shaky sigh. “You’ve done enough, Detective Muller. Now please leave me alone.”
He rolled his hands into balls.
Was she rushing him out so she could sneak out to meet Pendergrass?
The idea stirred irrational anger and …jealousy. No, he wasn’t jealous. He just didn’t know why she’d help that asshole. Pendergrass had been the one to use her, not him.
But he couldn’t tip his hand by revealing that he’d overheard her conversation. So he removed his card and dropped it on the coffee table. “If you change your mind, call me.”
She simply stared at the card, then him, and watched as he walked out the door. Irritation knotted his shoulders as he hiked down the cheap metal steps and walked to his car.
He’d given her a chance to come clean, but she’d dismissed him. Maybe she wasn’t innocent after all.
He turned and studied her front door and the layout of her building.
He had to focus on his job.
If the creep who’d broken in returned tonight, he’d be watching and nab his ass.
And if Marci went after that money so she could run with Pendergrass. he’d slap them both in jail where they belonged.
*~*~*~*
Marci’s head swirled with confusion as she slammed the door. She had almost kissed Detective Muller.
Or had he almost kissed her?
Good heavens. What was wrong with her? He’d looked at her with those dark passion-glazed eyes and she’d felt hypnotized.
How could she dislike him so much and be attracted to him at the same time?
Well, maybe she didn’t exactly dislike him…
He had only been doing his job.
No…he was a hardass who’d humiliated her in front of hundreds of people, interrogated her, thrown her past in her face, and left her to rot all night in that cell for a crime she hadn’t committed.
Worse, he thought she was stupid. His partner had pointed that out over and over.
He wasn’t attracted to you, Marci. He only wanted you to spill your guts about Paul.
Paul.
What was she going to do about him?
She would find that money, take it to him and force him to look her in the eyes. Then she’d see for sure if he was telling her the truth, if he’d been set up.
Or if he’d used her to help him run his con game.
Her stomach lurched at the thought, guilt suffusing her.
Sunshine peeked through the window, and she grimaced. It was hours until dark.
She glanced around the apartment, sickened at the sight. Yesterday her life had looked like a rose garden, but today it looked like she’d slipped in shit and was buried in it.
She turned on the television for background noise while she straightened the den, but when another clip showing her arrest was broadcast (the bridal gown had definitely caught the attention of the media), she sank onto the couch in despair.
Apparently she was a celebrity now. The story had gone nationwide. Oh, yes, and viral on the Internet. The clip on YouTube had several million hits already and was the number one story in China.
Instead of The Runaway Bride though, they’d dubbed her story The Runaway Groom.
A series of short interviews at the reception she’d missed followed on screen -- groups of seniors crying and complaining about their loss. Others were toasting the cops for arresting her.
Apparently the pissed off guests had decided to stay and enjoy the free food and drinks. They’d even managed to scrape enough of the ruined wedding cake together to hand out slices.
She sighed wearily. It had taken her hours to pick out that menu, to decide on the chicken skewers and shrimp toast, to choose between the buttercream frosting or the Kahlua chocolate cake…
A photograph of the mug shot she’d had taken when she’d stolen those panties years ago flashed next, then her new mug shot appeared beside it.
“It seems Miss Turner started her criminal path early on when she was caught stealing underwear at Victoria’s Secret,” the reporter said with a chuckle.
Marci fumed. Had Detective Muller given them that shot?
“Once a thief, always a thief,” the reporter continued.
Marci choked back a scream.
It was bad enough she’d been dragged from her wedding in handcuffs then falsely arrested. But now everyone in Atlanta and across the world knew about her juvy record.
Stupid dickhead reporter. He didn’t even have the decency to show her good side.
She’d told that cop that her left side made her look like she had a double chin.
Not that anyone would care what she looked like if she ended up doing hard time in the pokey.
But a girl did have to have a little pride…
*~*~*~*
Cade spent the day in his car watching Marci’s apartment. He’d parked by some bushes near the corner so he was half hidden, but had a good vantage point of the staircase.
Knowing she didn’t plan to make a move until dark gave him enough time for bathroom and food breaks, but he didn’t stray too far for fear she’d change her mind and slip out early.
But her little VW bug was still sitting in the parking lot when
he returned from grabbing a burger from the take-out joint a block over.
His phone buzzed and he punched connect. “Hey, Georgia. You have anything new on the shooter?”
Georgia released a disgusted moan. “I’m afraid not. So far, everyone I’ve interviewed had no idea they’d been duped until we busted the wedding.”
Cade muttered a sound of frustration. “Then it has to be someone he conned in another state before. Maybe they got wind of his new identity and con game.”
“It’s possible. Any one of them could have hired a PI to track him down.”
Cade wadded up the empty burger wrapper and stuffed it into the trash bag. “Keep digging. Did tech ever locate where Pendergrass was calling from?”
“No. He’s a pro, used another burner phone. He probably picked up a handful so he could keep changing them across states.”
Cade had expected the bastard to already be out of Georgia, but the greedy prick was waiting around until he finagled a way to pick up his cash.
And Marci was helping him, which would make her an accomplice.
Unless he persuaded her to take a deal and turn against Pendergrass.
“What’s going on there?” Georgia asked.
The afternoon sun had sunk behind the building, dusk settling in, painting the building in shadows. “Nothing yet. But I have a feeling Marci will be on the move soon.”
“Good. When we lock them up, maybe he’ll tell us where he’s hidden the money, and we can find justice for some of the people they hurt.”
Cade glanced up at Marci’s window and thought he saw her looking out the window, so he slid lower in his seat. “I’m beginning to think she was just as much a victim as the others.”
“Don’t think with your dick, Muller.”
Irritation nagged at him. “I’m not. I’m trying to find the truth.” The memory of Marci’s wounded eyes flashed back. “You know you were pretty hard on her, Georgia.”
“I was just doing my job, which you need to do, too.”
“I am,” he snapped. “But you seem to have something personal against Marci.”
“I hate dumb girls who skate by on their pretty looks,” Georgia muttered.
“Just because she didn’t excel in school like her sister doesn’t mean she’s dumb,” Cade said.
“Oh, my god,” Georgia said. “You are getting soft, Muller.”
“No, I’m not.” It was just that he’d heard the same thing from his old man all his life. Mitch was always smarter, more athletic, more driven…
Marci’s front door opened, and Cade gripped the steering wheel. “I have to go. She’s headed to her car.”
“Good, now play it smart, Muller.”
Cade snapped the phone off with a curse. He was not thinking with his dick.
He was just trying to be objective.
Marci clutched the gym bag to her, scanning the parking lot as she hurried to her car. He grimaced. She’d thrown on a pair of jeans and a hooded sweatshirt and wore sunglasses as if she was trying to disguise herself.
Jesus. He wanted to defend her, but her actions made her look guilty as hell.
She nearly stumbled down the steps, and he literally leaned forward as if to catch her. “Take off the sunglasses before you kill yourself,” he muttered.
She caught herself just before she fell, her shoulders hunched as she dashed to her car. Still, that bright red bug stuck out as she cranked the engine and peeled from the parking lot.
He followed at a safe distance, weaving through traffic as she maneuvered the busy intersection. Two streets over, she parked at the gym and climbed out.
The way she tilted her sunglasses down to scan the parking lot and street for anything suspicious reminded him of a cheesy movie.
But the fact that someone had shot at her and Pendergrass sobered him quickly. This case was not funny.
Only Marci’s clandestine behavior looked so rooky-like that it was obvious she wasn’t a pro. Not like her fiancé who had three different aliases, had left behind a string of women he’d abandoned and countless seniors without their retirements.
Cade fiddled with the door handle. He itched to go inside, but reminded himself that this wasn’t the meeting place. Marci was simply picking up Pendergrass’s cash here.
She still had to meet him for the drop.
He retrieved his camera from the console and snapped a photo of her as she rushed inside the gym. Georgia was wrong. He wasn’t thinking with his dick.
He was committed to the job.
But for the first time in his life, he hoped his suspect was innocent instead of guilty.
*~*~*~*
Marci kept looking over her shoulder as she slipped into the gym. She had sensed all day that someone was watching her. As if eyes were following her everywhere she went.
What if they were? The cops might be staking her out. And the man who’d shot at her…what if he came after her to get to Paul?
A nervous laugh bubbled in her throat, but she swallowed it back. Paul had said the money was in his locker. But how was she going to sneak into the men’s locker room without being noticed?
With the press flashing her picture all over the news, someone might spot her.
She tugged the ball cap down, made sure her hair was firmly tucked in place beneath it, then adopted a male swagger. Thankfully the gym was nearly empty, but when she stepped inside the locker room a young man, probably early twenties, was stripping out of his sweaty t-shirt and shorts.
She tried not to gape, but she was a hot-blooded female, and he had a nice body, especially his butt. He noticed her though and shot her an evil look.
A nervous laugh bubbled in her throat as she realized he thought she was gay.
She started to explain, then caught herself. What difference did it make? She was here to retrieve Paul’s money and get the hell out.
Quickly jerking her gaze back to the row of lockers, she checked the numbers. An older man who had to weigh at least three-hundred pounds with Dumbo ears lumbered in and started undressing.
She angled herself away with a shiver. Now that man desperately needed the gym.
Although an image of Detective Muller flashed in her mind, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he’d look like naked. He had such nice olive skin, and big arms. His legs were probably muscular, too, and she could almost feel her fingers raking across that black hair that would dust his torso.
The door whacked open again and two more men entered, then out of the corner of her eye she saw the heavyset man’s pants drop to the floor. Beefy fleshy rolls fell everywhere. She nearly groaned in disgust.
But reality interceded. What if one of these men had been the shooter? What if they’d followed her here and planned to stick a gun to her throat?
She had to hurry.
Her hand shook as she jammed the key into the lock. She angled herself so the men couldn’t see inside the locker as she spotted the small duffel bag of cash and grabbed it.
Her phone began to buzz, and she glanced down and read the text from Paul.
Meet me at Varsity.
Marci almost grinned at his choice. She loved the fast food place which was literally a landmark to natives, but Paul had been too snobbish to eat there. No wonder he’d chosen it as their meeting place. No one who knew him would think to look for him there.
Maybe she should have told the detective.
No…she understood what it was like to be falsely accused of something she hadn’t done. She had to find out the truth herself.
Then she’d decide whether to go to the police or call a lawyer before she wound up back in the pokey.
*~*~*~*
Cade drummed his fingers on his thigh as he waited on Marci. Ten minutes after she entered the gym, she rushed out, her head ducked as she gripped the duffel bag in her hand. She looked nervous, and constantly checked over her shoulder and glanced around the street and parking lot as she tossed the bag in the back seat and jumped in the car.
&n
bsp; He gritted his teeth. It certainly appeared as if she was running away with Pendergrass.
Clenching the steering wheel with a white-knuckle grip, he punched the gas and wove into traffic to follow her. A few quick turns and they ended up at the Varsity. He couldn’t help but wonder if Pendergrass had chosen the meeting spot or if Marci had.
The parking lot was almost full, the drive-up humming with traffic. His mouth watered for a chilidog and a frosted orange, and he wished he was here for pleasure, not on a stakeout.
Checking his gun to make sure it was in place, he tugged his jacket around him and followed Marci. She darted inside the restaurant, weaving between the rows and lines of people waiting to order their food.
The scent of fried onion rings and French Fries wafted around him, the hum of voices and kids’ laughter filling the space. A mother with two toddlers tried to put Varsity hats on the boys while the teenager across the aisle wolfed down a chilidog as he texted vigorously. A homeless woman parked her buggy outside and situated herself by a pole begging for money.
Marci glanced back once, and he ducked behind a family, then watched as she checked her phone again.
Dammit. Pendergrass must be texting her directions.
She looked irritated as she passed the ladies’ room, then she walked to the other exit and headed outside.
He kept at a distance until he reached the door, then he saw her heading toward a black Explorer parked in a take-out spot.
Suddenly a shot rang out, and people in the parking lot scattered, shouting and ducking for cover. He gripped his gun and raced outside just as another shot pinged off the Explorer.
Marci screamed, and he vaulted forward, grabbed her and hauled her behind another car as the Explorer screeched away.
CHAPTER NINE
Marci stumbled forward, grappling for control as Detective Muller slammed into her. A second later, she realized a gunshot had nearly taken off her head.
She scanned the area for Paul, but he was racing away again.
Her knees hit the pavement as the detective shoved her behind an SUV. Other cars fired up and careened from the parking lot, and the wait staff ran inside for cover. The couple in the SUV must have dove to the floor, because she didn’t see them.
