He glanced up at Amy and lifted two fingers, then pointed to Cosette. Amy nodded and went to work on their coffees. Cosette took a table away from the window. Completely out of character, but if she felt she was being watched, which was likely, then he understood her need for a barrier. Just couldn’t be Wilder. She’d rather have brick and mortar.
“Can I see the contents of the envelope?” he asked. Cosette handed him the envelope and he perused them. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. “What’s your initial feeling about this?” Because his was screaming all kinds of bad.
Amy brought them their coffees—chicory for Cosette and a café mocha for him. Real men didn’t shy away from handcrafted drinks. They savored them. That was his story and he was sticking to it. She also placed a huge banana-nut muffin in front of Cosette.
“Just a little splurge,” Amy said. “Oh, and the ice-skating with Wheezer the other night... I have bruises in so many places.”
Cosette chuckled and discreetly pushed the plate with the muffin toward Wilder. Cosette had severe nut allergies but was too polite to convey the information to Amy or to stay away from the café. The coffee was too delicious. Wilder would have just said, “No can do. I could die,” and sent it back. But that was Cosette. Considerate to the core.
Cosette grinned at Amy. “I’d say ice them, but that seems wrong, doesn’t it?”
“It totally does.” She glanced at the counter. “Duty calls.” She breezed off. “I’ll be by CCM tonight.”
Wilder rolled his eyes. “Remember when Wheezer didn’t have a girlfriend who holed up in the control room with him every waking moment she had free?” He wolfed down the muffin. “I just saved your life by eating this,” he teased.
“I have an EpiPen.” Cosette snorted. “And I think it’s healthy for Wheezer to be involved with more than his dozen computer screens. He needs sunshine and happiness...a life outside of work.”
Didn’t they all?
“You asked about my initial feeling over this. At first, I thought Jeffrey had somehow gotten into my office, but it doesn’t fit. Why two tickets? He’d want me all to himself.”
Wilder was by no means a stalker, but he could relate to wanting Cosette all to himself. He had to push those feelings down deep. Bury them. “You think it was a legit gift? Like an act of kindness from someone who knows you might need a night out?”
“People buy dinners and coffee for others all the time. What’s the verse about not letting the right hand know what the left hand is doing?” Cosette wiggled her hands. Slender fingers. No polish on her nails. She saved all that color for her lips. “I could use a night out. Maybe God is gifting me a break.”
Wilder didn’t think this gift was from God. Instinct said it was a threat tied with a nice little bow. “Who are you going to ask to go with you?” he asked.
She wanted space. No hovering. She could take whoever she wanted. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t be there watching in obscurity, standing guard. And he wouldn’t tell her because it did half sound like a stalker to someone who’d been stalked before. But she had never let someone down and been responsible for the loss of their life. Cosette didn’t understand that in one moment this crazy man could have her in his clutches. Wilder’s gut was on fire.
He had no choice but to hover in order to stop this killer from getting to Cosette.
And what he hadn’t told her, due to the stress and fear she was already enduring, was that if Jeffrey was as cunning as she said, he might be baiting her. Making her feel there was safety in this gift—that it was a coworker’s random act of kindness, when in fact he was positioning Cosette exactly where he wanted her to be.
But Wilder would be there, too. By her side or in the shadows.
Cosette paused midsip. “You’re not going to make that choice for me?”
“Cosette is human, remember? Wilder is not allowed to hover. I’m keeping within the boundaries.”
An unladylike snort left her nostrils. “You’re pacifying me. You and I both know you’ll be there. In the background.”
Wilder wouldn’t get anything past Cosette. He rarely could and he kind of admired that. “But not hovering. You specifically said ‘hover,’ not lurk.”
“I already feel like I’m being watched, spied on. I’d rather not add one more to the mix. How do you feel about Cary Grant?”
“Who?”
“Fabulous.” She groaned and drained her coffee. “Leave it to you not to know one of the most iconic Hollywood actors in history.” She pushed her cup away. “You wanna be my non-date-date?”
No. He wanted to be her date. So much for pushing down feelings. “That sounds so...mean. How about I be your escort for the night?”
“I never thought I’d have to enlist CCM’s services.”
Wilder never thought he’d be taking Cosette out on a date, even a non-date-date. He might have bitten off more than he could chew. But the seriousness of the situation washed over him, curdling the banana-nut muffin in his gut.
Cosette might be walking into a trap.
And the only way to catch this twisted stalker might be to let her.
THREE
Wilder tapped his pen on his desk and checked the time. Cosette should be coming down any minute. The week had been fairly quiet. No more gifts or messages, but the palpable tension rolled off her in waves and it was clear she was struggling with the fact she wouldn’t be visiting her mother’s grave tomorrow. Instead, the woman put on a brave front and focused on the therapy clinic, as well as her work at CCM. Though it had been pretty calm for her around these fronts—a couple threat assessments and a viewing of security tapes to get a read on an employee who might be stealing from the company.
Wilder had an uneasy feeling Levitts was biding his time, waiting for a prime opportunity to make his move. Over the years, Wilder had honed his ability to sense danger, to feel when something was off or odd. It had saved him time and again—even at a young age. All his senses were on high alert now.
He thumbed through the equine therapy information Cosette had given him, along with her proposal for building on to the stable and constructing office space, as well as a private entrance for patients. The woman was thorough. Another thing he admired about her. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He had no reason to tell her no. It was a good idea. The way she cared about people and helping them hit a deep place in him. Yet no one had been around to help her. Not when she was a child—when her father had been physically abusive. Wilder couldn’t imagine a man putting his hands on a woman to hurt her. Couldn’t imagine hurting a child. If he had a wife and children, he’d cherish them exactly as his father cherished his mother, Wilder and his sisters.
Unfortunately, marriage and children didn’t have a place in Wilder’s life, but he felt the cold vacuum in his heart. Lately more than usual, but that might be from the fact his cousin Jody had married recently and she and Evan were sick in love. Beckett and Aurora had a baby due, and it wouldn’t be long before Caley would come to family dinner sharing the good news that she and Shep were about to have a kiddo.
Well, CCM was Wilder’s family. He would cherish and protect them. Find fulfillment in that. He had to. He didn’t have a whole heart to give. Not to any woman. Not to Cosette—so he needed to get his head in the game and tamp down the spike in his pulse at the thought of accompanying her to dinner and a movie tonight. It wasn’t a date. It was work.
He needed his eyes and ears open in case Jeffrey Levitts was setting a trap. He’d had half a mind to fly to Washington, DC, and put the guy in his place, but if on the off chance it wasn’t Jeffrey raining terror on Cosette, Wilder might trigger him to resume his stalking. But if Jeffrey was as intelligent and cunning as Cosette said, then it wouldn’t be difficult for him to find her here in Atlanta. He could easily have hired a PI years ago like she’d said. So why now? What was the trigger?
Wilder
checked the time again. Almost six. He swung by the control room. Wheezer sat at his desk surrounded by half a dozen monitors. “I’m leaving. You can, too, ya know. Spend Saturday night with your woman.”
Wheezer grinned. “I’m seeing her tomorrow. She’s having a girls’ night tonight. Apparently, they need that, like, once or twice a month.” He shrugged.
Wilder nodded. “Before Meghan and Caley could drive, they’d have girls over on Friday nights once a month or so. I. Wanted. To. Die.” The giggling. The whispering. The excuses to come in his room. “Don’t stay too late. Set extra camera feeds up around the place. Painters will be in early in the morning, so make sure the motion detectors are off by 6:00 a.m. Apparently, they don’t know the meaning of a Sabbath rest.”
Wheezer muttered something about Wilder not knowing, either, but he didn’t respond. Noise on the stairs drew his attention. Wilder did know how to rest, but when people were in trouble, he had a duty to protect them, and that meant even on Sundays. He’d be at church tomorrow, with Cosette and his team, like most Sundays when duty didn’t call. After, Mama would make her famous roast and potatoes for everyone. Nothing tasted better than Sunday lunch at Mama’s.
He rounded the corner and froze as the breath was knocked clean from his lungs.
Cosette stood on the bottom step in a dress that came to just above her knees, the same color as her cherry lips. Her hair hung in waves over her shoulders. She must have used a special lotion or something...her skin shimmered, beckoning to be touched.
Not happening.
He couldn’t find his voice.
“Ready to escort me to dinner and a movie?” she asked.
He’d escort her around the world and back if she asked. “Yes, but I’m starving, so...” He splayed his hands and made light. Had to. This was too much for his heart to take.
Her heels clicked across the floor. “I hope you did your research on Cary Grant. Last we talked, you had no clue who he was.”
“Sometimes, Cosette, I like to be surprised.”
“I.e., you don’t care.” She snickered and looped her arm in his. “And you hate surprises. You say that with every single case we work. ‘No surprises. I hate surprises.’”
“Which is why I just said sometimes. Sometimes I like surprises.” And he didn’t really care about an old dead actor whose movies he’d never watch again.
Unless Cosette asked him to. Then he was terrified he’d watch every Grant movie made. Because telling Cosette no was pretty much impossible, and the reason terrified him even more.
He wanted to please her.
Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he guided her to the SUV and helped her inside, then drove to the new restaurant, where he insisted on a table by an exit. Conversation was as easy as blinking. The food was delicious. Spicy. Satisfying.
“I don’t need a whole dessert, but that bread pudding looks divine. You want to split one, with two café au laits?” Cosette asked.
“Darlin’, I thought you’d never ask.” Wilder waved the server over and ordered. Cosette’s phone buzzed and she glanced down, frowning. “Your dad’s lawyer calling again?”
“Yes. I just can’t do it, Wilder. I can’t hear what he has to say. I can’t talk to him or my dad.”
Wilder didn’t go a week without talking to his dad, but his father wasn’t a drunk who’d abused his family and murdered his wife. Wilder wasn’t sure if Cosette had someone she did couch sessions with and he wasn’t going to bring it up. It would only circle back to him. So all he said was, “Pray about it.”
“I don’t need to pray about it.”
“Pretty sure Paul said pray about everything,” Wilder retorted.
“And do you? Pray about everything?”
He knew she’d bring this back to him. He’d kind of walked into it. “No. Do any of us?”
Bread pudding drowned in rich sauce came with their coffees. But when the server left again, Wilder felt the hairs on his arms rise. He visually swept the place. Cosette was relaxed and enjoying the night. He wanted to keep it that way. But his gut screamed a warning.
“You have to try this, Wilder. It’s magnificent.”
He searched for a utensil. “They didn’t bring two spoons.”
She carved out a giant spoonful, loaded with sauce, and held it out for him.
Something about the gesture set his insides on fire, as intense as any warning signaling danger ahead.
“It won’t bite you,” she teased.
He was afraid he’d already been bitten. He sampled the dessert. She was right. It was magnificent, but not nearly as magnificent as Cosette.
They shared the dessert with one spoon until she gave him the last bite. After paying the bill with the gift card, they exited the restaurant. Wilder paused.
“What is it?” Cosette asked, panic in her voice.
“Nothing to worry that pretty little head. Just precaution. Like I’d do for anyone I’m escorting.” He’d never shared a dessert with one spoon with a client. His heart never jumped in his chest over clients—or his friends. What did that mean? Nothing. It could mean nothing.
Cosette scooted nearer and wrapped her arm around his, clung a little tighter than normally. “You’re sure everything’s okay?”
He patted her hand. “Better than.” But the nagging feeling that someone was out there, lurking, wouldn’t leave him.
They drove to the outdoor amphitheater and found their seats. Wilder surveyed the crowd, put his arm around Cosette, shielding her. The way she fitted next to him...it just seemed right. She leaned into him. For shelter? Or was she feeling what he was? Something absolutely forbidden.
He was guarding her well, but his heart was a different matter altogether.
The night was warm, with a half moon, and stars dotting the dark sky. A breeze blew Cosette’s hair across her face. Wilder reached over and slid it behind her ear. An urge to kiss her was so strong he wasn’t sure he could control it. A ripple of panic shot through him.
He would not lose control.
He reined it in. Shoved it down. Even when Cosette turned to him and peered into his eyes, and something like longing seared him.
Music played and broke the moment. Saving him from making a monstrous mistake.
He diverted his attention to the massive screen until he knew Cosette was engrossed, then he went to work...observing, listening. Waiting for whoever was in the shadows to appear and make his move.
Wilder would be ready for him.
But no one made a move. Not for the entire movie. But he was here. Wilder felt him. And Cosette must have, too. A few times she turned fidgety, glanced behind her. After the movie, they walked to the SUV in silence. Once inside and safely on the road, they talked about the film. Not that Wilder had watched much of it. But he’d kept an ear open.
They turned into the circle drive. A dark sedan was parked there, two men inside. Wilder drew his weapon. “When I get out, slide into the driver’s seat and be ready to get out of here if necessary.”
“And leave you to something horrible?”
He slowly opened the door. “If you don’t, I’ll come after you with a vengeance, Cosette LaCroix. Do what I say.”
Wilder exited the SUV, weapon in hand.
The first man held up a badge. “I’m Detective Monty Chase with Atlanta PD. Mr. Flynn?”
Wilder moved closer to get a better look at the credentials. Legit. He glanced at the man stepping from the passenger side. “Yes, I’m Wilder Flynn.”
“This is Detective Raymond Bodine from New Orleans Police Department. Can we come in and talk to you?”
Wilder motioned for Cosette to exit the vehicle. She strode to his side. “This is Cosette LaCroix. She works here. Come on inside. What can I help you with?”
What was a New Orleans detective doing in Atlanta? He’d let them t
ake the lead. He punched a security code on the panel outside the door and they stepped into the foyer.
“Actually, it’s good that you’re here, too, Miss LaCroix,” Detective Bodine said. “We were heading to your place next.”
“She lives here,” Wilder offered.
Bodine’s eyebrow rose. “I see.”
No. He didn’t. “Temporarily. There’s an apartment upstairs. Come. Sit.” He ushered them into the conference room.
“Why is it good I’m here?” Cosette asked warily.
“When was the last time you saw Beau Chauvert?” Detective Bodine asked.
It hit Wilder. “What kind of detective are you, Detective Bodine?”
Bodine offered a tight-lipped smile, or maybe it was just pursed lips, due to the fact that he hadn’t surprised them like he’d wanted. He was Homicide.
“How did he die?”
“Who said he did?”
“Don’t insult me or Miss LaCroix, Detective.”
Cosette raked her hand over her mouth and chin. “We saw him last Friday night. I attended my fifteenth class reunion and Mr. Flynn accompanied me.”
But they already knew that. Small town. Tight-knit. Wilder’s altercation was bound to have reached their ears. Wilder didn’t offer any further information. Neither did Cosette. She was too smart.
Detective Bodine focused on Wilder. “Witnesses say you threatened to kill him if he came near Miss LaCroix again.”
“That’s not true. I never threatened to kill him. I was defending Cosette. He hauled her into the woods to do who knows what to her. She had bruises on her forearm.”
Detective Bodine opened a small notepad. “Several witnesses heard you say ‘Can one of you spectators come take this jerk home before he gets himself killed?’ Did you not say that?”
Well, this wasn’t looking good. “I did say that, but I didn’t mean I’d actually kill him.”
“Then why say it?”
“People say things in the heat of the moment all the time.”
Cosette laid her hand on the table. “How did Beau die?”
Dangerous Obsession Page 5
