Tempting Target

by Addison Fox

  The back door beckoned and she knew she needed to lock it, but her legs shook, her muscles going to water as she sank to the cool floor. Steven might come back. He wanted the other rubies.

  He would come back.

  So she needed to plan. Needed to figure out a way to keep Cassidy and Violet safe. A plan was all she needed.

  And as the tears rolled down her face, Lilah curled into herself, her arms wrapped around her knees, and desperately tried to think of one.

  * * *

  Reed fielded a series of questions from his lieutenant as he caught the man up to speed. Despite spending the morning with his thoughts full of Lilah, he’d managed to dig deeper into the history of the gem appraiser and had also made time for a conversation with Max Baldwin Senior.

  He’d wrapped up both into his latest report to Granger.

  “Cut brake lines?” His LT eyed him above his laptop. “An oldie but goodie.”

  “Afraid so.”

  “And Miss Castle is okay?”

  “Yes, she’s fine. The hospital cleared her after it happened.”

  “And you?” Granger’s gaze never wavered.

  “I’m fine. A few bruises but I’ve had worse.”

  Granger nodded and exhaled on a small harrumph before returning his focus to Reed’s report. “Weddings?”

  Reed had worked with Tom Granger long enough to know when a question was rhetorical and he was curious to see how the man worked through the meaning that hovered beneath his words.

  “How did three women who plan weddings get in the middle of something like this? It’s a strange juxtaposition, don’t you think?”

  “How so?”

  “Priceless gems in the floor? The secreted crown jewels? And now they won’t give them to you?”

  “They belong to the landlady fair and square. The provenance on the gems is clear about that.” Reed fought the slight sensation that crawled up his spine as he thought about Lilah’s current “storage” of the ruby in her possession. “The women have them secured.”

  “Have you called MI5?” Granger snapped the lid of his laptop. “Let them know what’s possibly hitting the black market.”

  “You want their jurisdiction on this?”

  “I think it’s time.”

  “Tom. With all due respect, this isn’t a smash and grab. Whoever wants these jewels wants them for some personal purpose. Do we really want to involve foreign jurisdiction?”

  “I don’t think we can afford to ignore it. Word gets out on this and the Dallas PD is sitting on its next fifty years of embarrassment.”

  “I don’t follow you.”

  “Hell, Reed. We’ve been known as the city that killed Kennedy for half a century. You want to add the bumbling idiots who messed up major British artifacts to that list?”

  * * *

  Steven turned off Dragon and cut down Cole, the large black SUV idling at the corner, facing Riverfront, exactly where he expected. The whole neighborhood still had several dodgy edges and Steven wondered what Lilah possibly saw in the area.

  Hell, he’d seen himself as a pioneer when he opened Portia in the newly burgeoning Uptown area over a decade ago and that hadn’t been half as seedy as where Lilah and her friends chose to run a wedding business.

  Amateurs.

  Once he’d actually held the ruby—and the damn thing was huge—he’d briefly pondered heading in the opposite direction, but a deal was a deal.

  And a deal with a slimeball like the Duke was only going to end one way if he reneged on his side. Charlie and Robert must have learned that one the hard way and he had no interest in following their footsteps.

  Nope.

  Much as he was enamored of the heavy weight in his pocket, he’d dutifully turn it over and give the Duke instructions on how to secure the other two gems. Lilah had refused to tell him where they were, which meant Cassidy and Violet both had to have them.

  The three of them were freaking inseparable and there was no way they’d not find the beautiful symmetry in splitting the hoard up between them.

  Amateurs.

  The word rang through his mind once more as he snagged the door handle, a blast of cool air hitting him as he hopped up into the SUV.

  The Duke was settled in the plush interior, his black Armani seeming to fade into the car’s rich leather. “Thanks for the ride. I’ve got it.”

  “And?”

  The word hung there and, not for the first time, Steven cursed Charlie and Robert for this asinine plan. He’d known of the Duke, of course. No one who managed a small business in Dallas was above paying the requisite protection to ensure their establishment thrived and flourished.

  But it was virtually impossible to determine who the man was. Hell, it had taken him over a year to even get in the man’s good graces to secure a face-to-face meeting. And had he been surprised to realize the Duke was a well-respected man about town. A regular patron of Portia, as a matter of fact.

  Steven had filed the information away, knowing full well it was idiocy to mention it to anyone. Men like the Duke didn’t get into positions of power by tolerating gossip. Their base of power depended on it.

  “Well, Mr. DeWinter?”

  “Take a look.” He pulled the ruby from his pocket, the surface cool in his hand. He had a flash—nothing more substantial than that—of blood and fire as he handed over the gem.

  A strange sort of half smile lit the Duke’s face as he turned the ruby over in his hands. “It’s magnificent. Legendary.”

  “If you’re into that sort of thing.”

  The Duke lifted his gaze from the stone. “You believe this is the only one in Miss Castle’s possession.”

  “Yeah. She’s thick as thieves with the other two. If there are three stones then they have three guardians.”

  “Interesting.”

  Steven didn’t think it was all that interesting—Lilah never had been able to think for herself unless her two sidekicks gave their opinions—but he opted to say nothing.

  Silence descended in the car and Steven sought for something to say. “We missed you the other night. Should I have your table ready this evening?”

  “No, not tonight. I have plans with my wife.”

  Steven shrugged, admittedly relieved. They’d spent too much time in each other’s company the past few days and he’d like a night to relax. He always kept a few tables open and if the man changed his mind, he could accommodate, but it was a relief to think he wouldn’t have to be on this evening.

  “Alex.” The Duke’s lone word rang out as he nodded to his driver. “We’re ready.”

  Steven reached for his seat belt, intending to buckle up for the short drive to Portia. The thick strap was still in his hand when his door opened, his body flying through the air as he was dragged from the car.

  “Wait!”

  He hit the concrete with a thud, pain radiating through his arms as he landed hard on his wrists, gravel and grease coating his hands.

  What the hell?

  One of the large men he’d seen with the Duke before stood over him, his huge, meaty body practically shutting out the sun as he filled Steven’s vision.

  Run.

  The word pulsed in his mind, struggling for purchase amid the confusion and unreality of the moment.

  He did what he was asked to do. Delivered the ruby just as he promised.

  Run.

  “Thank you, Mr. DeWinter.” The Duke’s face filled the open car door, a gun in his hand.

  Steven scrambled backward, pain radiating from his wrists in hard waves as his feet scrabbled to find purchase on the hot concrete. Was something broken?

  Run.

  The mental admonition came too late as pain exploded in his neck, the bullet’s impact thr
owing him backward into concrete and gravel.

  * * *

  The tears had stopped but Lilah still hadn’t left her position on the floor of her kitchen. The hard concrete grew even harder against her butt as she rocked and rocked, her problem racing through her mind with the sheer force of a tornado.

  How was she going to keep Violet and Cassidy safe?

  Where could they go? How would they escape?

  She could bargain herself. Call Steven back and tell him she had the other jewels. Or better, she’d trick Cassidy and Vi into giving her theirs and could bring them to Steven.

  Or whomever he was working for.

  She’d explain there were only three stones. Would tell whomever hid behind this problem that they were the famed Renaissance Stones of legend and now he had all of them.

  She’d fix this.

  She knew how to deal with monsters.

  Even as she thought it, the censure rose up in her mind. Yeah, right, she knew how to deal with monsters. Like with today’s pitiful excuse for bravado as she simpered the moment Steven looked sideways at her.

  She didn’t slay monsters, she was slayed by them.

  Defeated.

  Just as it had before, her conscience whispered for her to call Reed, but she ignored it once more.

  He deserved better than this. Better than a woman who couldn’t even keep a priceless gem in her shoe.

  The hard snap of the back door had her sitting upright, the noise rocketing through her with the force of an arrow.

  He’s back.

  Hands shaking, she quickly got to her feet and moved in determined steps toward the knife drawer. She wouldn’t cower this time. Wouldn’t...

  Hot summer air blasted through the door but no one followed.

  The knife drawer still beckoned and she’d taken two quiet steps backward when she heard a long, low whimper.

  What?

  She raced to the door, her bare feet slapping on concrete when she stopped hard at the entrance. And found Steven sprawled over the steps, blood covering his neck and chest.

  “Steven!”

  His eyelids fluttered as he looked up at her, a hard croak escaping his lips. “Help—”

  Shock and confusion danced across her mind as some other small corner simply moved into action. She bent, her hands beneath his shoulders as she half dragged him in while he pushed with his feet. The slick concrete floor helped, but the movement was hard enough that he cried in pain as she settled him inside the door.

  Towels lined the counter but all were dirty with the day’s work. Dragging off her chef’s coat, she wadded it up, inside out, and kneeled next to him. She pressed the coarse material to the base of his neck, the flesh torn and bloody.

  His legs flailed and she whispered nonsense as she pressed the coat to his neck, her other hand firm on his chest. “Hold still. Shh.”

  “Over. It’s not over.”

  “Shh. Don’t say—”

  His hand snaked out, gripping her wrist, the movement firm. Unlike before, there was a determination in the motion instead of violence. “Lilah.”

  She stilled at his urgency and gave him a moment to speak.

  “You’re—” He took a hard breath, dragging in air in a hard wheeze. She kept the pressure firm against his body but struggled to figure out what to do next when the white cloth rapidly turned red with blood.

  “They’re coming for you. For all of you.”

  “Who?”

  “The Du—”

  “Lilah!” Thick footsteps filled the air behind her as Reed moved into her field of vision. Relief coursed through her as she kept her hands firm on Steven. He continued to kick out, his legs restless, and it took every ounce of strength to keep the pressure on his wound.

  Ignoring Reed, she stared down at her ex-husband. The man who’d terrorized her, even up to that very day, suddenly seemed small when faced with the results of violence. “Who, Steven? Who did this?”

  “Tripp.”

  “What?” Reed dropped to his knees on the other side of Steven’s body. “Who?”

  “Lange.”

  Chapter 14

  The edge of his phone cut into his palm as Reed called in for backup. Nausea and fear swam in his stomach, mixing like thick concrete.

  He couldn’t settle—couldn’t stem his thoughts—as his mind worked to process what he’d seen.

  Steven DeWinter dying on the floor.

  Lilah covered in blood.

  His stepfather named as the culprit.

  “He said Tripp Lange.” Lilah stood opposite him, Steven’s body separating them like a chasm.

  “Yes.”

  “Your stepfather.”

  “Yes.”

  Fear for his mother’s safety warred with the agony of staring at Lilah covered in blood.

  “Reed—” She broke off and took two steps around Steven before Reed held up his hand.

  “Don’t. Stay there.”

  Her lush brown eyes, so full of emotion that very morning, were empty. A bright slash of red lit up her cheek, the raw fire of it filling him with anger, but still he pressed on with his observation.

  Pink rimmed her eyelids, and the whites of her eyes had streaks of red. “What happened?”

  “He— I mean—” She stopped. “Am I in trouble?”

  He boarded up his emotions and focused on the moment. “I asked you what happened.”

  “He came here. Before.”

  “When?”

  “Earlier. He wanted the ruby. He threatened me.” Reed listened as Lilah recounted her experience from earlier that afternoon. The taunting violence as Steven pressed her for the ruby.

  “When was this?”

  “A while ago? I don’t know.” Her gaze skipped to a clock mounted near the door, confusion marring her features. “Not that long ago. Violet had an appointment at three.”

  Reed glanced at the clock, the evidence only a half hour had passed confirming the shock he sensed was rapidly taking over her body.

  The urge to go to her was strong, but still, he kept his distance.

  Get it out. Ask the questions. Do the job.

  “Why didn’t you call me? Call anyone?”

  “I...” Her gaze drifted toward the body. She didn’t blink, her voice fading as she processed the moment. “I couldn’t.”

  Pain lanced through his chest but still he kept on. “Did you shoot him?”

  The question snapped her head back with blunt force.

  “Me!”

  “He’s lying there in your arms.”

  “He left. Steven left. Before. He hurt me. Threatened me. Then took the ruby when it fell out of my shoe.”

  Her words were mechanical, her voice like the manufactured voice on his cell phone. There was no inflection—no warmth—as she recounted facts and information.

  “Reed?” Her shoulders were stiff beneath the tank top she wore, bloody streaks marring the pale pink material.

  Pain lanced through him once more as he took in the evidence of what she’d been through. Of what she’d survived.

  On a hard moan of pain, he dragged her around DeWinter’s body and into his arms.

  * * *

  Jessie provided a steady stream of information over his car speaker as Reed drove hell for leather to his mother’s. They’d sent a patrol car on ahead and Jessie confirmed his mother was ensconced in the back of the cruiser.

  “She’s pissed, Reed.”

  “Too bad.”

  “She’s apparently taken a strip off Anderson’s scalp.”

  “He can handle it.”

  The late-afternoon traffic had him jammed down Mockingbird and he slammed his hands on the wheel in frustration.


  Tripp?

  Tripp was responsible?

  “You want to tell me why your mother’s in a police cruiser on this fine summer afternoon?”

  “No.”

  “Reed?” He’d known Jessie forever and it killed him to say nothing, but how could he? He’d known Tripp equally as long and his stepfather was a criminal.

  A murderer.

  “I need to talk to her is all.”

  “What’s going on with you?”

  “Jess. Please. Please give me this.”

  Whether it was their years of friendship or something in his voice, Reed didn’t know, but she eased off the questions. “I’ll let you go. CSI just arrived at the bridal shop.”

  The phone clicked off and he let the quiet sink over him. Through him.

  He had to get to his mother. Had to make sure she was safe and then he’d try to figure out what she knew.

  Did she know?

  Did she know she was married to a murderer? A criminal who likely had deep fingers in the Dallas PD?

  Who was involved? His LT? Jessie? Half the freaking department? Was that why he was assigned to the women of Elegance and Lace? So Tripp could keep an eye on everything?

  Reed thought through the morning of the previous week when he’d caught the case. Dispatch had made the call, sending him out to pick up information.

  No one had seemed particularly interested in his management of the case, and until the night of the cut brake lines, he’d filed his reports and avoided any unnecessary questions from the brass.

  So who knew?

  There was no way it was coincidence.

  He’d bet every last breath in his body, someone had arranged for him to get this case.

  To keep Tripp informed? One step ahead of the cops?

  He made the turn onto his mother’s street, the cruiser visible halfway down the block. Fortunately, Anderson hadn’t turned on the lights, but the police vehicle still stood out like a stain.

  Because there was a stain. A stain on Dallas. And one on his family.

  Did his mother know?

  Reed knew he was jumping to conclusions—Steven DeWinter wasn’t exactly a perfect witness—but the determination in his gaze and the words he uttered before dying suggested they pay attention.