by Rebecca Deel
“You and Sophie know each other?” Mrs. Graham’s gaze fluttered between the two.
“We’ve met. Ms. Valero’s had some trouble.” His obvious skepticism left no doubt as to his opinion about the legitimacy of her problems. “When did you notice the jewelry switch?”
“Right before I called to report the theft.”
Abbott dragged a notebook and pen from his coat pocket. “And when was the last time you handled the necklace?”
After an apologetic glance at Sophie, Mrs. Graham said, “About eight months ago when I commissioned Sierra to paint my portrait.”
The detective frowned. “Did she take the necklace with her, claim to need it to finish the painting?” Another hard glance, this time in Sophie’s direction. “Maybe allowed someone else to handle it?”
Mrs. Graham sat in the chair Micah had just vacated. “I have no knowledge of that.”
Micah firmed his mouth to keep from grinning. The old gal was pretty cagey. And he owed her for trying to protect Sierra and, by extension, Sophie.
“Was Sierra Valero ever alone with the necklace?”
“Winter,” Micah said. “Sierra Winter.”
“New name doesn’t mean new personality, Winter. That broad was a common thief, just like all her relatives.”
Sophie’s hand trembled in Micah’s.
“You’re crossing the line, Abbott.”
“My job is the same as yours, to find the truth no matter how ugly.” He shifted his attention to Sophie. “What about you, Ms. Valero? Were you ever alone with the necklace?”
“Mrs. Graham retrieved the necklace from her safe and showed it to us,” Micah said. “Sophie is the one who told her the jewels had been replaced and before you ask, I never left her side.”
“And just how do you know the jewels are fake, Ms. Valero?” Abbott asked. He inclined his head toward the necklace in Mrs. Graham’s hand. “Looks real enough to me.”
“I had her look at it with a loupe,” Mrs. Graham said.
Micah had to hand it to her. The woman knew how to deflect questions. Of course, knowing her husband’s habit of picking up glitters himself explained her finesse in handling interrogations.
“And you just happened to have one handy?” Sarcasm laced Abbott’s tone.
“My husband appreciates fine jewelry. He collects, so yes, he has a loupe.”
Micah’s lips twitched. Nicely done.
Abbott’s pointed glare focused on Sophie again. “So you used this loupe to examine the jewels. Are you an expert in fine gems?”
“As you said, Detective Abbott, jewelry is a family business.”
“Trained by the best thieves in the business, huh?”
Micah’s eyes narrowed. “Detective,” he said, his voice soft. “Don’t go there or this interview ends right here, right now.” He knew where this line of questioning was headed, needed Abbott distracted for a minute. He was just about to suggest it was time for Sophie to walk around a minute or maybe visit the restroom when the detective’s cell phone chirped.
He stalked out of the room, phone to his ear.
After Abbott rounded the corner, Micah whispered in Sophie’s ear. “Give me the loupe.”
To her credit, she dug the instrument out of her purse and slipped it into his hand in seconds with no questions. The detective’s footsteps heralded his return. Micah shoved the loupe deep into his pocket and once again clasped Sophie’s hand. He glanced at Mrs. Graham and winked. Her lips curved in a wide smile.
Abbott returned to stand in front of Sophie. “Your purse, Ms. Valero. I’d like to examine it. “
Sophie’s chin went up as she handed over her bag. Abbott wasted no time dumping the contents of her purse on the granite coffee table.
Micah’s eyebrows rose. Unlike his mother and sisters, Sophie didn’t keep much in her bag. Wallet, pocket calculator, a couple pens, cell phone, pack of tissues, lip balm, bottle of Valerian. His throat tightened as he recognized another ultrasound picture of Nathan.
Abbott’s perusal stopped on the picture, lip curled. He shoved his hand back into the empty bag, no doubt feeling for concealed compartments.
“You tear up her bag, Abbott, and you’ll replace it. I’ll make sure you buy the most expensive purse on the market.”
After another moment searching and coming up empty, Abbott tossed the bag on the table with its contents. He turned to Sophie, a speculative gleam in his eyes.
“No.” Micah surged to his feet, moved in front of Sophie. “Not without a search warrant.” And Abbott wouldn’t get one if Micah had his way. No one was touching her but him. He glanced over his shoulder. “Do you have any pockets, sweetheart?”
She nodded.
“Turn them out for the detective so he knows you’re not hiding anything.” With his help, she stood and emptied her pockets. A tissue, another lip balm. Nothing else. Sophie liked lip balm. Another tidbit about her to add to his growing collection.
Frustration bloomed on the detective’s face. “What about you, Winter?”
Yeah, he should have figured Abbott would turn to him next. He spread his arms, palms out. “Does it look like I have a diamond and sapphire necklace on me? Doesn’t match my colors.” Micah shoved his hands into his pockets. The detective wouldn’t be able to resist searching him as well. He needed to get rid of the loupe.
“Micah.” Sophie angled herself toward him, her stomach pressed against his hip. “Nathan’s moving. Feel.” She placed the hand closest to Abbott on her belly.
Seconds later, his son kicked the palm of his hand. Her small hand patted his pocket. She’d positioned her stomach to block Abbott’s view. Micah grasped the loupe and transferred it to her pocket under the guise of caressing her hip. Unable to help himself, Micah kissed her, but not as deep or long as he wanted. He sighed, pleasure swirling through his body at the feel of this beautiful woman in his arms, his son nestled safely in her womb, kicking against his stomach.
“Can we get on with this?” Abbott sounded exasperated.
A final soft kiss and he moved away from Sophie. He emptied his pockets, adding to the booty on the table.
Abbott eyed his weapon.
“My sidearm is off limits.”
The detective grunted. He turned to Mrs. Graham. “The necklace is evidence, ma’am. We’ll print it, but I doubt we’ll find useable prints. At least none I don’t expect to find. Show me the safe. I’ll check for fingerprints, but if the gems were switched as long as eight months ago, I doubt there will be anything useful to lift.”
“This way, Detective.” Nelda Graham led the way from the room.
Abbott paused in the entryway. “I’ll be in touch, Winter.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
#
Abbott aimed a cold gleam her direction just before he left the living room on Nelda’s heels. Sophie shuddered. “Micah, what . . .”
He placed a finger over her lips. “Wait,” he whispered, nodding toward the foyer.
She retrieved her belongings and dropped them into her bag, eager for distance between her and Abbott. Another glance to be sure the police weren’t lurking nearby and Sophie transferred the loupe to the special velvet-lined pocket in her bag.
Bundled in coats again, they left the mansion in silence. The shadows had begun to lengthen while she and Micah were inside with Nelda, temperature once more plunging enough their breath misted in front of them.
She kept silent until the SUV accelerated on the interstate. “How soon will I end up in jail?”
Micah shot her a dark look. “Never if I have anything to do with it. He has no proof, Sophie. You didn’t steal the necklace and replace it with a fake.”
“He’s not interested in looking for a different answer. Abbott’s positive I’m guilty.”
“Then we’ll do his job for him. He can’t refute concrete evidence of someone else’s guilt. There’s a trail. We just have to find it.”
She didn’t doubt Micah’s abilities as a cop. The
question was whether he could reel in the true thief before Abbott convinced a judge of her guilt. Sophie swallowed against the knot in her throat. She didn’t want her son born while she was cuffed to a hospital bed or, even worse, a prison infirmary bed.
“What’s our next move?”
“Finish delivering those portraits tomorrow and stir the pot a little. See what Brent turns up. We’ll go from there. Right now, we need to get you home and off your feet.”
“What about you?” Her gaze dropped to his hand massaging his thigh. “You look like you’re hurting. I knew that close call with the Escalade hurt you.”
He grunted.
“How about a trade? You rub my feet and ankles and I’ll work on your leg.”
“Deal. Should I pick up dinner?”
Sophie grinned at his hopeful expression. Anything to avoid green. “I tossed some chicken breasts in a slow cooker this morning before we left.” She paused. “I threw in vegetables. One pot cooking. Dinner should be ready when we walk in the door.”
“Vegetables, huh? What kind?”
“Don’t you mean what color?”
“Yeah, okay. What color?”
“Orange, white, and green.”
He shuddered. “Sounds great,” he muttered.
Sophie laughed. “Liar.” She snuggled deeper into the leather seat. Before many miles passed, her eyes grew so heavy she quit fighting to keep them open.
After what seemed a quick nap, Micah rubbed her arm with soft strokes. “We’re here, beautiful. We need to go inside.”
Sophie forced her eyelids open and sat up. The Cole house windows glimmered in the moonlight. “I must have been more tired than I realized. It’s good I planned ahead for dinner.”
Micah scowled at the mention of food which included vegetables. “Right.”
Another reminder to let him help her inside and Micah came around to her door. He checked the house and walked with her into the kitchen. Sophie dished dinner and set a plate in front of him.
He eyed the steaming chicken, potatoes, and carrots and sighed. “Thank you.”
Sophie grinned. Not a green vegetable in sight though she’d given him a hard time earlier. “I don’t like green vegetables cooked in a slow cooker.”
“You won’t get any arguments from me. We should cook all meals in that contraption.”
They kept the dinner conversation light. After clearing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen, they settled on the couch with a crackling fire in the fireplace.
Micah patted his uninjured thigh. “Feet up here.”
For long minutes, he massaged her feet and calves. His massage should be considered illegal. Pure pleasure from his warm, strong hands.
“Good?”
“I may never let you stop.”
Micah chuckled at her wide yawn. “Tired, love?”
Another shiver from that sweet endearment. “Exhausted.”
“Why don’t we turn in? We’ll get an early start in the morning. It may take us a while to track down the other woman on our list. Most people will head to work since it’s Monday.”
“I promised you a leg massage.” If she could offer one. Her arms felt like mush at the moment.
He shrugged. “You’ll owe me one.” Micah shifted her feet to the floor and rose, hand out to pull her up. “Go on and get ready for bed while I check the windows and doors.”
Sophie pulled on her pajamas. She barely had the energy to wash her face and brush her teeth. Only the knowledge she would worry Micah made her push herself to finish her night routine before crawling under the covers.
She listened to him prowl around the house, grateful to have him in her life for however long it lasted. Maybe she was fooling herself, but she wished for a lifetime.
Micah limped into the bedroom. “Everything is locked down.”
“Good.” Sophie burrowed deeper under the covers. “Brr. I’m freezing.”
A moment later, Micah draped another quilt over her. “Better?”
“Mmm. Thanks.”
He kissed her behind the ear. “Sleep well, baby.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Late in the night, Micah’s cell phone chirped. He grabbed his cell and checked the readout. Brent. A quick trip to the guest room showed him Sophie still slept.
Micah limped down the hall to the living room and punched his speed dial. Brent answered before the first ring finished. “What’s up?”
“Activity at Sophie’s place. Apprehend, call the cops, or follow?”
“How many?”
“One male.”
“Wrap him up. I want answers before we turn him over to the cops.”
“Roger that.”
Micah returned to the bedroom. As soon as he cleared the door, Sophie raised her head. “What’s going on?”
“Get dressed. Brent’s people are watching someone prowl around your place. I told them to bag and hold him until we get there.”
Sophie threw off the covers and sat on the side of the bed. “Do you think the thug returned to pressure me? He must be very frustrated because you’ve kept me out of his reach.” She rose, grabbed a change of clothes, and waddled toward the bathroom.
“If it is him, he’ll regret the day he came after you.” Micah wanted the prowler to be Sophie’s thug. One less enemy to evade would reduce his stress level. He was used to wearing an invisible target. Came with the job. The thought of someone gunning for Sophie made him break into a cold sweat.
He grabbed clothes for himself and trekked to the main bathroom to change. He hated dragging Sophie out into the cold, but he couldn’t leave her unprotected.
Ten minutes later, Micah lifted Sophie into his SUV and wrapped a warm blanket around her. Sparse traffic at three o’clock in the morning allowed him to drive a few miles over the speed limit. Neither bothered to break the silence. No point speculating until he obtained more information.
He turned onto Sophie’s street, her home the only one on the block lit on the inside. No cops, so the takedown must have been quiet. Grim satisfaction flooded his gut. He wanted time with the prowler and answers. He hoped this guy wasn’t a bottom feeder cashing in on electronics. If so, he’d be second guessing his career choice before this night was finished.
Micah pulled into the cleared driveway, wondered if Brent’s team had cleared the snow and ice. He shut off the engine and hurried around the hood to Sophie’s door. “Ready?” he asked, watching her gaze dart to her front door. “If this is your thug, he can’t hurt you. Brent’s men immobilized him. If he manages to break free, he’d have to go through me to get to you.”
“Let’s go. Not knowing who’s in there is driving me crazy.”
A grin on his face, he helped her to the pavement. A moment later, the front door swung open. Micah recognized Brent’s outline.
They mounted the front steps. Brent murmured, “Kitchen. He refuses to talk. Wolfe is running his prints as we speak.”
Micah turned, lifted Sophie’s chin and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “Sure you want to do this? You could pack more of your clothes while I talk to him. You don’t need to involve yourself. We can do this without you.”
“Don’t I have to identify him?”
“I can send his picture to your cell phone.”
She thought a moment, shook her head. “I’m not running away. I can do this.”
“Follow my lead. No names. We don’t want him to trace Brent’s team. Don’t volunteer any information or let him trick information from you. Under no circumstances are you to interfere with the interrogation. No matter what happens, stay out of his reach.” He eyed her a minute, noting the faintly nauseated expression. “Last chance to back out,” he murmured.
She straightened her shoulders and shook her head.
“We’ll keep you safe, Sophie. Trust us to do our jobs,” Brent said. The security specialist stepped back. “Let’s do this.”
Micah moved ahead of Sophie, blocking the perp’s view of her, and left Brent to
watch their backs. If the prowler broke free and managed to score a weapon from one of Brent’s team, Micah’s body would take a bullet meant for her. Grim thoughts on this early morning fishing expedition. Chances of this guy breaking loose were zero to slim. Even now, he spotted half a dozen ways to free himself if he’d been in this situation himself. But most of the security team were former special forces. They didn’t often make mistakes that led to escape.
Though his leg hurt, he suppressed the limp. Brent and his men had secured the man’s hands behind the back of a chair. His body remained still though his gaze roamed the room, resembling a snake, watching its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
He studied the captive. Big guy. Dark hair, cold black eyes, swarthy complexion. Not someone he knew. But he recognized Sophie. His eyes glittered as his gaze locked on her, raking her body until landing on her stomach.
Micah shifted to conceal Sophie and glanced at Wolfe, eyebrow raised. He nodded. Micah said, “Name?”
“Meet Antonio Garza, two-bit thug for hire. Cheap.”
Fury reddened Antonio’s face.
“Did some time in the state pen,” Wolfe continued. “Likes to play with knives and brass knuckles. Isn’t particular about his jobs. Pay him, he’ll get the job done, no matter who he hurts.”
Message received. This piece of work didn’t mind hurting women if the price was right. Micah waited, continued to memorize the man’s face. He noted the crooked nose and varied scars on his face, one large slice across his throat, near the carotid artery. One of his jobs tried to fight back? Too bad the victim failed.
He needed this guy to break his silence. Though Sophie couldn’t identify her attacker by sight, she would recognize his voice. His threats on her answering machine provided enough corroboration for law enforcement to act and take at least one threat to Sophie and the baby from their immediate orbit.
