Hot SEAL, Midnight Magic (SEALs In Paradise)

by Teresa J. Reasor

  “I need to go to my captain about this. And if you hadn’t gotten rid of the evidence, I might have been able to do something about the drugs as well.”

  “Why doesn’t NOPD try searching something that belongs to Mason Blanchard for a change?”

  Jules stared at him, his dark gaze piercing.

  Gage raised a brow. Jules was a smart guy and would figure it out.

  Jules tilted his head back against the headrest and stared at the car roof. Gage could almost hear him praying for patience.

  “Who were the officers who responded to the break-in?”

  “They were lackeys. Probably new on the job. Patrol officers Cliburn and Jackson. They were very blatant about it, so I read it as a warning more than anything else.”

  “Fuck!” The disgust in Jules’s voice was palpable.

  “Have you had time to look into any of the things I told you about?”

  “Yeah. Six years ago there was a big drug bust on a ship that came into port. Nearly a million in cocaine was stored in the evidence locker at headquarters. On August twentieth one of the assistant DAs signed out a brick of it, saying he was going to have it sent to a lab for testing. The only thing is, the drugs were only gone a few hours and then returned to lockup. Plus, the testing had already been done right after the bust. And no extra testing was ever added to the evidence.”

  “Do you have a picture of this guy?”

  “No. I’m going to do a photo lineup with you later to see if you can identify all of them.”

  “I’m ready.”

  “I’ll drop you at Mia’s apartment. Are you going to tell her about Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb?”

  “Yeah. Just in case they show up at her business.”

  “They won’t. But it’s good if she’s on the lookout.”

  “What’s their names?”

  “Dwight Williams and Tony Richards.” Jules raised a brow. You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?”

  “No. But the next time they show up, I’m going to call them out in front of witnesses so everyone will be able to identify them. That should make it harder for them to do something stupid.”

  Jules started to smile, then seemed to catch himself. He started the car. “I could almost like you if you hadn’t run out on Mia.”

  Gage dragged in a deep breath, holding onto his temper by a gnat’s ass. As soon as Jules reached the block where Mia’s shop was located, he said, “You can stop here.”

  The car came to a halt, and he turned to Jules. “The other night, right after the cops left, I called in to report a suspicious car and person in the neighborhood and gave dispatch the car tag number. You might want to check that out, too.” He bailed out and jogged away, entering the business at the main entrance and passing several shoppers on his way upstairs.

  “You didn’t run all the way here from Mama’s, did you?” Jessica asked with a smile.

  “No. I ran into a friend, and he wanted to go for coffee.” He’d kill for a cup right now. “He dropped me off here so I can talk to Mia before I go home to shower and visit the hospital.”

  “She’s in her office.”

  “Thanks.” He brushed past her, went to the door, and knocked.

  CHAPTER 13

  ‡

  Mia breathed a sigh of relief. It had to be Gage.

  His note about the run had triggered all sorts of worrisome imaginings. He was taking unnecessary risks jogging around the city unprotected, and his call about running into Jules hadn’t done a thing to relieve those feelings.

  Not least because Jules didn’t just run into anybody. He usually had a purpose for hunting them down.

  When she opened the door, she was met with the sight of Gage’s chest in a sleeveless muscle shirt.

  She forced herself to look up at his face. His dark hair, damp from his exertion and the humidity, curled across his forehead, around his ears, and against his neck, reminding her how she raked her fingers through those curls when he took her nipple into his mouth, and her body quickened with need.

  “Come in,” she managed. As Gage moved past her into the office, she caught a glimpse of Jessica’s mischievous grin while she blew on her hand, then shook it. Mia covered her smile with a hand and closed the door.

  She turned to find Gage was so close the heat of his body reached out to her. He braced his hands on the door on either side of her while his mouth swooped down and took hers in a kiss both carnal and hot. He groaned, then broke the kiss. “I’m sweaty and I’ll ruin your clothes. You could slip out and go upstairs with me.”

  “I can’t. I have an interview with a new artist in twenty minutes.” She couldn’t keep her hands off him and ran them up under his shirt to caress his damp chest.

  “I guess we’ll have to take this up later, then. Or we could do it right here.” He nipped at her bottom lip, and it echoed in intimate places that made her want to shimmy out of her panties.

  She dragged her hands away from him and leaned back against the door. She couldn’t meet a potential client worked up like this. “What did Jules say?”

  Gage grinned. “Your cheeks are flushed.” He brushed a kiss across her cheekbone. “He’s making progress on the original problem. And I told him what happened at the house last night.” He pulled out his phone, opened it, and turned the screen to show her. “If you see these guys, keep your distance and call Jules. I just emailed the pictures to your phone.” He handed her his phone.

  She enlarged the picture. “How did you get this picture?”

  “I took the photo outside the World War II Museum. I was standing with a family, and when I started taking pictures these two assholes turned and left. I think they were following me.”

  He wasn’t telling her the whole story. “Gage…”

  “It wasn’t anything important. They never got close to me, and when they saw the family, they turned tail.”

  She hoped he was telling her the truth, but Jules’s arrival on the scene afterwards worried her.

  “I need to go upstairs and take a shower before I go to the hospital. After that I’ll be at the house part of the day, replacing the attic window. Do you want to meet for a meal later?”

  “I have that interview with a new artist, and one for a new employee, so I’ll have to eat at my desk. What if I cook a meal tonight so we can stay in?”

  “Okay…” He eyed her with a teasing half-smile. “Since when did you take up cooking?”

  He was trying to distract her and, to be honest, she wanted him to. Worrying about what her brother might do next was making her miserable. She just wanted to enjoy Gage while she had him. “I started cooking when I got to college.” It wasn’t her fault that her family always had a cook. “And even I can follow a recipe.”

  “My brother wants me to come over for a barbecue on Sunday. Will you come with me?”

  She wondered how his family might feel about her. “Do they know?”

  “Yeah. But Roman knows you weren’t responsible for what happened, Mia.”

  “How can you be certain?”

  He gripped her arms with gentle pressure. “Trust me. He and I talked about it.”

  “Okay. I’ll take you upstairs on the elevator and get the key to my car so you can drive it to the hospital.”

  “Good, thanks! Then I’ll drop the car back by and take an Uber to Mama’s. I’ll have to get a new window to put in, or order one.”

  “Just keep the car until you’re finished. I’ll be here all day working, and I haven’t any plans to go anywhere. Mason wouldn’t dare plant drugs in my car. If you have any trouble, call me.”

  “Thanks.”

  She took him upstairs and left him to get cleaned up and go to the hospital.

  The interview with the artist went well, and she had just walked out of the office with the woman and was saying goodbye when Will Abney appeared at the top of the stairs. He walked toward her with a smile while she struggled to hide her revulsion and uneasiness.

  “Hell
o, Mia. I hope you’re feeling better since dinner the other night.”

  “I’m fine, thank you. It was just a sudden migraine.”

  “I was curious about your business and decided to stop by so you can give me a tour.” His gaze traveled around the space. “If you have time.”

  “Certainly.” she gestured around the space. “Why don’t I show you some of my favorite pieces and tell you about some of our artists?” She walked toward the stained-glass section of the display space. “This is a Westley Cramer original.” She stopped before the large window hung so it could be seen from below. The blue-green glass shimmered with streaks of gold threaded through them. “He has a glass studio on his property and creates glass sculptures and windows for us. Some of his pieces are hanging in homes in the area you might frequent.”

  “It’s quite dramatic and beautiful. Like many of the pieces you have.”

  “His wife Mary has quilted pieces downstairs as well. She’s created quilts for years, and when she studied the history of New Orleans, she decided to create illustrations of some of the more dramatic historic events. We recently sold my favorite of hers, of a riverboat on fire. It was a very dramatic night scene, with people jumping overboard and alligators closing in on them.”

  “Maybe we can look at some of hers before I take you out for lunch,” he commented.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m short-staffed today and one of my employees is out for the latter part of the day. But we can go downstairs to Lottie’s Promises Made and eat.”

  “How many employees do you have in this section?”

  “We actually have eleven, soon to be twelve, I hope.” That was counting herself. “I have four employees per shift who run the floor and wait on customers, and two who work on graphic design for ads and other online promotions for all three of our businesses. It’s important to have a social media presence in today’s business world. And I have an assistant manager who’s kept pretty busy doing the orders and setting up interviews for artists who want their products in our store.”

  “That social media presence is especially important for this kind of business, which is mostly word of mouth.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “And how do you deal with bad reviews on some of the social media platforms?”

  Her skin prickled in warning. “We’ve been very lucky that thus far we’ve only experienced happy customers.”

  “That’s very good.”

  “Yes, we work hard to keep the quality of our products consistent and still offer them a bargain. That way they have no reason to complain.” She purposely touched his arm, hoping to see what it was he planned. But his thoughts were dark and muddy. “Shall we go downstairs so you can take a look at the bookstore and cafè? You can’t get any better food in New Orleans than Lottie’s.”

  “That’s quite a boast.”

  “Well-earned. Lottie is an excellent chef, and her gumbo is a favorite of our customers.”

  She took him around the floor, giving him the tour he requested. Then they browsed through the bookstore and wandered on to Lottie’s.

  Abney was charming and sharply observant. They settled at a table for a beignet, he with coffee and she with tea. When he turned his observant eye on her, her stomach cramped with nerves.

  “I have a weakness for beignets,” she said to distract him.

  “It doesn’t show. You’re as slender as a reed.”

  “I’ve been blessed with a fast metabolism.”

  “I think it’s because you work way too much. You should hire someone to take over the daily running of the gallery so you can have time to be more social and enjoy your standing in the community.”

  She kept her tone light with an effort. “I would never be satisfied sitting by while someone else did all the work, Mr. Abney. That’s why I went to school. I’ve worked since I was sixteen, and I prefer to have a purpose rather than to be dead weight or fluff.”

  He raised one gray brow. “Really?”

  “Yes.” No one got a free ride with Camille. If they did, it was because she had some other purpose in mind for them. “I prefer to run my own business and stand apart from the rest of my family.”

  “Yet you hold a quarter share of the family business.”

  She set aside her tea and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Yes. My father put the stock in trust until I turned twenty-one.”

  “Who controls the last twenty-five percent?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “I was hoping to buy into your mother’s company.”

  She didn’t believe that for a minute. “We own controlling interest as a family. No one will sell you stock in the company, Mr. Abney. It’s a family business, hasn’t gone public, and never will.”

  “But you used yours as collateral for this business.”

  Heat rushed up her throat and into her cheeks. “And you shouldn’t have that kind of information. I’ll be calling my bank to report that someone there has been talking out of turn.”

  He leaned forward. “You don’t want to do that.”

  She leaned back to avoid his touch. “Actually, I do.”

  He caught her arm. “I don’t want to cause you any trouble, Mia.”

  Her heart hammered hard against her ribs and her breathing turned uneven. The face of one of the loan officers came to mind. But that wasn’t all. She suddenly felt cold to the marrow of her bones. “I have a contract with them, and if they try to break it, I’ll report them to FDIC.”

  She rose from her seat, as did he. “I really need to get back to work.” She signed her name to the bill and beckoned to one of the waitresses to take it.

  “I’m a sitting member of the board, Mia. I can make things very difficult for you.”

  “As I can for you. I’m not a helpless sixteen-year-old child like Angelique Webster, Mr. Abney.”

  His eyes widened and he lunged closer. his hand extended like a claw.

  Mia backed away from him.

  “Mia, you have an important phone call upstairs,” Lottie came around the counter. “Do you want to take it down here?”

  “Thank you, Lottie. Yes, I’ll take it down here.”

  Abney seemed to pull himself together, but his forehead was beaded with sweat, and his gray eyes held a light that sent a shiver down her entire body.

  Angry at him and the fact that he could frighten her, she went on the defensive. “I’ll be sure to pass on what we’ve discussed here to Camille and Mason. They’ll be very interested. As for the bank, my entire family has accounts and other business at the same bank. Now you’ve made me aware of how easy it is for you to access information about our business there, I’ll have to discuss this with my grandmother and father as well. I don’t think the rest of the bank’s board will be happy if we all transfer our business elsewhere.” She took another step back.

  “I need to get my phone call.” She walked around the counter and followed Lottie through a hallway that led back to the office.

  “Are you okay?” Lottie demanded as soon as they were out of sight of Abney.

  “Yes…I think. Your timing was perfect.” She was trembling, and she couldn’t seem to take in a complete breath.

  “What was going on there? You went white.”

  “If he ever comes in again, make certain you’re never alone with him, Lottie. And make certain security follows him. And most of all, don’t let him get too friendly with any of the girls who work here.”

  “Who is he?”

  “His name is Will Abney. He’s gone in with my mother on several building projects.” She’d never expected that he’d be so blatant with his threats. “He’s a dangerous man.” She wished she could say more, but she had no physical proof, and he could sue her.

  Lottie wrapped Mia in her arms, and Mia held on for a moment. The contact steadied her, but the surge of adrenaline storming through her system now left her nauseous.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Lottie asked.

  Mia eased ba
ck and attempted a smile, though she felt very close to tears. “I’m going to make some phone calls and deal with this situation. Hopefully after that we’ll never see him again.”

  Concern still tightened Lottie’s features. “If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”

  “Thanks, I will.”

  Eager for the sanctuary of her office, Mia took the elevator instead of the stairs. Jessica was wrapping something and boxing it for a woman standing at the counter, so Mia would talk to her about Abney after lunch.

  She sat down behind her desk and closed her eyes to try and relax, but the look in Abney’s eyes after she mentioned Angelique kept coming back to her. Still riding the wave of anger and indignation, she reached for her cell phone and punched in the bank’s number. As soon as someone answered she asked to be transferred to Franklin Oliver’s office.

  “This is Franklin Oliver. What can I do for you, Ms. Blanchard?” She remembered a balding man, early forties, obsequious, and eager for her business. When she signed the paperwork, he praised her courage for taking on a business on her own. And now he’d given information to Abney.

  “After we’ve spoken, Mr. Oliver, my next call is going to be to the President of the bank. I hope Will Abney paid you well for the information you supplied him about my loan.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ms. Blanchard.”

  “Yes, you do. He showed up today, threatening me and saying he can have my loan rescinded. After I speak to the president of the bank, I’ll be calling the FDIC and filing a complaint against your bank.”

  “Please don’t do that.” She could hear him hyperventilating.

  She could imagine how Abney manipulated him. And almost felt sorry for him. Almost. But the fear and anger she felt facing off with Abney dulled the brief moment of sympathy.

  “I’m going to tell you what I want you to do. I want you to go to the president yourself and tell him about Abney. Anyone who is going to pump the employees of your institution for information about your customers so they can strong-arm them has no place on the board. And I want you to have the president contact me directly, so I’ll have his personal reassurance that my business with your bank is secure.