Framed For Love

by Rachel Ann Nunes

“They are. But this just isn’t the way I’d planned on spending my honeymoon. Three is definitely a crowd.”

  She gave him a wry smile. “Well, me either, but here we are.”

  Jared kissed her, but a disgusted grunt near the front window cut short the fun. “I guess I’ll go get ready,” Jared said. “The sooner we get rid of our chaperone here, the better.”

  “He’s just a kid. I’ll bet he’s had a hard life.”

  “With Big Tommy as a father, it’s no wonder.”

  Cassi’s dark eyes grew thoughtful. “Quentin loves his son, but I don’t know what kind of father he’s been. I suspect Sampson’s been lonely since his mother died. Quentin told me she died from a tumor three years ago.”

  For a moment, Jared had forgotten that Big Tommy, a.k.a. Quentin Thomas Holbrooke, had any other name. “I’m wondering if old Big Tommy’s motive for sending his son isn’t twofold. I suspect he had a bit of a thing for you.”

  Cassi rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. After meeting me only twice. That must be why he almost killed both of us.”

  She had a point, but Jared was too irritated to admit it. He loved Cassi more than he had ever loved anyone, and these two weeks had been their time to be alone. He looked across the kitchen at Sampson. “Don’t worry, I’ll be nice. I like children, remember?”

  “I know you do. And you’re good with them. But this little boy doesn’t seem to like you too much.”

  Jared left her at the sink and went to stand with Sampson in front of the window. “It’s pretty in the daylight.”

  Sampson gave a noncommittal grunt.

  “Have you ever been in France?”

  “Tons of times.”

  “Ever been fishing?”

  Bored eyes focused on Jared. “Yeah, all over. My dad has more yachts than he has cars.”

  “Impressive.” Jared had seen the huge garage on the Holbrooke estate. It could have easily held twenty automobiles.

  “Well, have you been hiking?”

  “In just about every country in the world. I like the Amazon jungle the best.”

  Maybe it was time to try a different approach. “Ever been to church?”

  “Sure. I go to Mass sometimes.”

  Jared laughed. “Why am I not surprised? Look, I’m going to grab some clothes. We need to go into town.”

  The boy’s eyes followed Jared as he entered the small bathroom. “Eleven going on forty,” Jared muttered. “What’s this world coming to?”

  * * *

  SUPERVISORY SPECIAL AGENT FRED SCHULTE hadn’t expected the press would care much about Big Tommy’s capture and pending sentencing. He was right. There had been a few flashy articles in the paper when the initial information was released, and then nothing more as either Big Tommy’s employees bribed the media into silence or other more pressing issues hit the headlines. Either way, it was all the same to Fred.

  In light of the evidence against him, Big Tommy had agreed to discuss a plea bargain to kindly save taxpayers the expense of a lengthy trial. Hah! Fred knew that more than likely Big Tommy was simply trying to save himself from extra time in prison. An honest jury would have sent the mobster away for life. Now, if they were lucky, he might serve ten years. At least for the time being, he was out of Fred’s hair.

  For this reason, Fred wondered why Brooke Erickson of the San Diego Union-Tribune wanted to meet with him to discuss Big Tommy’s case. She arrived promptly at five o’clock on Tuesday afternoon, the time Fred would have left for his apartment if he had ever gone home on time. He didn’t know what he’d imagined from her crisp, no-nonsense voice on the phone, but she wasn’t what he expected. Brooke Erickson was beautiful. She had short-cropped golden blond hair, striking pale blue eyes, and a figure that made men look twice. Or even stare. But like her voice on the phone, her manner was all business.

  “How long do you think he’ll be sentenced for?” she asked after hearing his brief, over-rehearsed statement on the events leading up to Big Tommy’s capture.

  Fred sighed, thinking of the stack of unsolved cases in his files that he could be working on. “It’s hard to say. He deserves three or four life sentences with all the dirt we have on him—forgery, fraud, murder, and kidnapping, to name a few. But he’s got money and expensive lawyers who don’t care who they hurt as long as they get paid. I hear they’re working out a plea bargain. Just what it is we’ll find out at the sentencing—whenever that finally rolls around.”

  “That’s partly why I’m here. I’m amazed they didn’t stall the idea of a plea longer. I mean, I’ve seen these types of characters living months in freedom while their lawyers cause all sorts of delays.”

  “Well, part of that was because Big Tommy was denied bail. Our guys proved that he’d skip town. He could work his brand of sordid magic just as well from some European country.”

  “Still, I’m surprised his lawyers didn’t come up with something to get him freed.”

  Fred tensed, experiencing an ache from the week-old bullet wound in his upper right arm, suffered at the last showdown with Laranda Garrettson and Big Tommy. Or was the ache coming from his heart? “Big Tommy was recently responsible for the death of a very good friend of mine.”

  “An agent?”

  “No. A guy who worked with us sometimes: Linden Johansen. But Big Tommy has killed several of our agents over the past few years, and we all pushed to get the ball rolling on him. And go figure, this time it worked. Or started to, until this plea bargain stuff came up. I doubt Big Tommy will get half of what he deserves.”

  “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

  “Well, you’ll still see a lot of stalling, I’ll bet,” Fred continued. “Big Tommy’s an expert at deals. No, this thing is far from over. We got him, and he’ll have to serve some time, but before long he’ll be my problem again.”

  “I’ve heard you’ve had a lot of success working with people who aren’t FBI agents. That’s amazing. I guess what really fascinates me is hearing about the two people who were primarily responsible for putting Big Tommy in prison.”

  “Oh, and why does that interest you?” But he knew before she answered. “You’re not going to find any dirt on them. They’re good people.” What these newspaper reporters will do for a story, he thought. It rankled him that she would try to inflict damage on the reputation of those he considered his friends, albeit not very close friends.

  She gave an embarrassed laugh. “That’s not it at all. I—well, if it happened to them, it could happen to anyone, I guess. It’s kind of exciting.” Brooke blushed, and for the first time her voice wasn’t crisp and precise.

  Fred felt himself warming to her. He was suddenly glad that last month he had quit smoking after a fifteen-year addiction. It was a dirty, smelly habit anyway, one that wouldn’t impress this fine lady. “So how can I help you?” he asked.

  “I want to know a little about Jared Landine and Cassi Mason.”

  “Both Landine now. They’re married.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize that.” Brooke glanced at the tape recorder on the desk to be sure it was recording. “Interesting. Did they know each other before their run-in with Big Tommy?”

  “They met at an art auction when they were both bidding for a forged Buddha containing smuggled diamonds. Both Laranda Garrettson, who was Jared’s boss then, and Big Tommy were after the Buddha, but Jared and Cassi had no idea of its importance.”

  “Wow, what a story.”

  She asked a few more questions Fred was able to answer, but when the questions became more personal, he shook his head. “I’d feel more comfortable if you got your answers from them. They’re on their honeymoon right now, but when they get back, I’ll give them your card. Maybe they’ll agree to let you do a story.”

  “Okay, thank you.” But she didn’t leave. “Do you think Big Tommy’s in danger?”

  “I hope so. That would keep him out of my hair. Do you really care?”

  She laughed. “Well, without Big Tommy there w
ouldn’t really be a story.”

  “I guess not.” Fred certainly admired her persistence. “Well, the real answer is that of course he’s in danger. He’s a mobster. There’s no telling how many people he’s responsible for killing over the years, or how many fortunes he’s stolen. Then there’s the question of the plea bargaining—who’s he planning to give up? It has to be somebody big. Yep, in all, I’d say there has to be a ton of people out there who’d be happy to see Big Tommy dead.”

  “So you think he’ll be killed.”

  “No, I didn’t say that.” He leaned back in his chair and studied her, enjoying the puzzlement on her face. It wasn’t often that he was alone with such an attractive woman.

  “Then what are you saying?”

  Was she married? Involuntarily, Fred’s gaze dropped to her left hand, where a simple gold band circled the ring finger. He felt a keen sense of disappointment. To cover the unexpected feeling, he pretended to smooth his short moustache in deep thought. “I’m saying, Ms. Erickson, that someone might try to kill him but probably wouldn’t succeed. There will be just as many people trying to earn money by protecting him. Then there are the guards, of course, who try to watch both sides and keep order.”

  “So it’s like a game.”

  “Right.” He rubbed gently at his sore arm. “A deadly game. And anyone could win.”

  “Or lose.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed, liking her even more. “Or lose.”

  “What about the rumor of a billion dollars in paintings and other art objects that Laranda Garrettson supposedly has stashed in another location—apart from those found in Portugal?”

  “I’ve heard the rumors, but I haven’t been able to substantiate them. Big Tommy, of course, would be the one to verify any of this, but if they do exist, he’ll probably go after them himself once he’s out of prison. After all, any money that was used in acquiring the paintings had to have come from him originally.”

  “None of them could be stolen?”

  “Well, yes. But he still would have paid someone to steal them. Garrettson had a lot of resources, but not that many.”

  Brooke’s next question was lost in the buzzing of Fred’s intercom. “Excuse me,” he said. “It must be important. I asked the secretary not to be disturbed.” He pressed the black button. “What is it, Cherral? Jared Landine? You’ve got to be kidding. No, put him through immediately. Thank you.”

  Brooke’s eyes grew more interested, but Fred scarcely paid attention. Why would Jared be calling him? Certainly he had better things to be doing on a honeymoon than calling an FBI Supervisory Special Agent. It could mean only one thing: trouble.

  END OF SNEAK PEEK. If you would like to purchase Love on the Run, please click here. Don’t miss the bonus preview of House Without Lies coming up next! To learn more about the author and her books, please continue to the About the Author section following the bonus preview.

  Bonus Preview

  1

  I looked both ways as I headed into the back alley behind the store, not because I was embarrassed, but because I didn’t want to get Payden in trouble for slipping out to meet me there. The boy was going to a lot of effort to help me, and my runaway girls always needed the food he donated. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my car today, and I was already balancing two bags of groceries I’d purchased when I’d gone inside the store to signal Payden that I was here. So whatever he had for us would make my walk home that much more difficult.

  He was already outside in the alley, waiting at the back door by the green Dumpster, his round, heavily-freckled face grinning as always. The roundness made him look younger than his seventeen years, and rather innocent.

  “Hey, Lily,” he greeted me, shifting the large box in his arms so he could give a friendly wave. His blue apron was splashed with something that had turned it purple, and the sagging material made him look chubby. He puffed a breath upward to blow away the straight-cut brown hair that hung like a shield over his brown eyes.

  “Hey, Payden.” I hooked the grocery bags over my wrists and pushed them toward my elbows, freeing up my hands so I could take the box from him. “Thank you so much.”

  “Got bread, bagels, muffins, and cookies today. Should last if you freeze them.”

  I could also see dented cans, a few vegetables that would make a fabulous soup, and a gallon of expiring milk. “This is great. Are you sure you won’t get into trouble? That other clerk in there was looking at me kind of strange.”

  He shrugged. “Makes no sense to throw it in the trash if you’re right here.” He laughed. “I can always say you wrestled me for it.” His smile dimmed slightly, and he waited only a second to add, “How is she?”

  “Elsie’s doing great. Really. The bruising is almost gone. I’ll try to bring her next time, if she’ll come.”

  His smile returned. “Then she didn’t run away again.”

  “Nope. She still thinks whoever she’s running from is looking for her, but no one’s tracked her down yet. Plus, she’s worried child services will find her and make her go back.”

  He folded his arms, looking for all the world as if he wanted to do battle for her. The expression sat oddly on his young face. “They probably would. She’s better off with you.”

  If going back to her family or staying with me were the only options, I was the better choice—one glance at the picture I’d taken of Elsie after finding her in this very alley three weeks ago was proof of that.

  I’d heard Elsie’s pitiful sobs from the main street and hurried to find her collapsed on the ground near the Dumpster, which she’d apparently been trying to open to find food. Her numerous cuts were old, but not healing, and a deep black and green bruise mottled most of her feverish face. When I’d lifted Elsie up, her battered ribs showed through a gaping rip in her shirt.

  That’s when Payden had found us and given me that first box of expired groceries. He was a kindred spirit. Too bad he wasn’t five years older. But then, even men my age seemed too young these days. All they cared about was partying, scraping by in their university courses, and more partying.

  “Thanks again.” I didn’t tell him Elsie hadn’t gone outside at all since last week when our neighbor on the second floor had seen her in the stairwell and questioned her about where she lived. Knowing would only make Payden feel bad, and it wasn’t something he could change.

  “You’re welcome.” He turned to go inside but hesitated at the door. “Hey, you should really talk to my cousin. I told you he’s working at a place here in Phoenix that helps troubled kids. Teen Remake, or something. He’s got connections, you know? He’s dropping some stuff off for me soon. If you wait just a minute, I could introduce you.”

  “I don’t think so. I can’t betray Elsie’s trust. She’s been through enough.” I could probably be charged for harboring a minor, and if my own family found out, I suspected they would come down on the side of the law. Well, all but my sister, Tessa, who had helped me out more than once in the past few months. Anyway, it wasn’t likely Payden’s cousin could do anything more than I could about helping Elsie.

  “Think about it,” Payden urged.

  “I will.”

  I trudged up the alley, tripping once on an old tire someone had left in the way but catching myself before I fell. Lugging the groceries all the way back to my apartment on foot wasn’t something I was looking forward to. Saffron, the oldest of the runaways who lived with me, had chosen a rotten day to borrow my car, but her job interview this morning had to come first.

  Cars honked and whizzed past as I reached the main street. Downtown Phoenix was never quiet, it seemed, and today was particularly busy. The air already felt hot and dry on my face.

  “Lily!”

  I turned at the voice and saw Payden, but this time he stood in the front doorway of the small grocery store. A man I’d never seen before was with him, and I hoped Payden wasn’t in trouble for helping me. Would they take back the groceries?

  As I watched, th
e man pushed past Payden and stepped out onto the wide sidewalk. My heart stopped. He was a good two heads taller than Payden and handsome enough that I remembered I wasn’t wearing makeup, and that my messy ponytail had to be more mess than ponytail.

  “My cousin’s going to help you get those to your car,” Payden said, nodding encouragingly. He jerked his head to the side, as if listening to someone from behind him. “Gotta go.”

  The relief inside me that Payden wasn’t in trouble was canceled out by the amused smile on the man’s face. Without introducing himself, he reached for the box. “So, where’s your car?”

  His black hair was short except on top in the front, where it partially waved, arching up and then down in a way that I found compelling. His eyes, also dark, spoke of something exotic. Up close, not even one freckle marred his face, but there was a bit of a five o’clock shadow, as if he’d missed shaving today.

  This was Payden’s cousin? If I’d known he was this attractive, I might have hit him up for help a long time ago.

  I kept hold of the box. “I didn’t bring it. Sorry. But it’s okay. I don’t need help.”

  “I don’t mind walking to your place. Where do you live?” He tugged again gently on the box, his bronzed arms brushing mine. I couldn’t tell if his skin color came from heredity or the sun.

  “Are you sure you’re Payden’s cousin? Because you don’t look like him.”

  He laughed, a sound that warmed me clear through to my stomach. “People say that a lot. But we are cousins—our mothers are sisters. I just have a bit more variety in my gene pool from my dad’s side.”

  Definitely a combination that was working for him. “Well, I’m used to carrying the boxes Payden gives me. But thank you.”

  He lifted the box from my arms anyway. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t walk you home?”

  “Maybe you just want to know where I live.”

  Again the laugh. “Actually, I do want to know. That way I’ll know where to pick you up when we go out.”

  When we go out? A thousand butterflies took flight in my stomach. “Who said I’m going out with you?”