Harlequin Intrigue April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Carol Ericson

  Then the woman turned, and Jake almost doubled over from the sock to his belly.

  “Kyra, what are you doing here? What’s wrong with him?”

  Her blue eyes shimmered like waves in a pool. “I think it’s a drug overdose. He was conscious when I got here, but he’s out now. His pulse is weak. Do you have any Narcan on you?”

  “If I were Vice, maybe.” He crouched beside her, nudging her away from the fallen man. He placed his fingers against Dugan’s neck and rolled him onto his side. “Have you called 911?”

  “Not yet. I just found him.”

  A whisper of...something flitted across the back of his neck.

  “C-can you do it? I don’t want to have to explain my presence here.” She pressed her hand against her heart. “I swear, he was like this when I found him. I’ll explain everything to you.”

  Jake already had his phone out and was calling 911. Before he even started talking to the 911 operator, Kyra scrambled to her feet and fled from the patio and the dying man—her foster brother.

  Jake gave his location to the 911 operator and dropped his phone on the ground. He bent his head, putting his face close to Dugan’s. “Don’t bail on me now, you SOB. Who hired you to plant those cards? Who was it? Give me a name.”

  Dugan was fading fast and probably couldn’t even hear him. He kept trying anyway, grabbing on to Dugan’s hand. “Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand for yes.”

  A breath that sounded like a death knell rattled in Dugan’s chest.

  “Did the killer pay you to leave the cards?”

  Dugan’s rough hand lay limply in his own.

  Sirens filled the alley and vehicles screeched to a stop, but Jake kept hold of Dugan’s hand.

  He tried again. “Was it The Player?”

  Dugan sputtered, and he convulsively squeezed Jake’s hand.

  “Drug overdose?” The EMTs swarmed onto the patio, and Jake grabbed the slats of the fence to pull himself up and out of their way.

  “Looks like it.” Jake flashed his badge. “He’s an informant. We had a meeting, and... I found him like this.”

  Jake stepped over the fence while the EMTs started working on Dugan. An officer from the Van Nuys division intercepted him.

  “Do you know this man’s identity?”

  “Matthew Dugan. He’s a parolee. Works in the shop. We had a meeting. He was going to give me some info on a case I’m working—The Copycat Player.”

  “Oh, damn.” The officer shook his head. “I hope you got your information out of him before the dope kicked in.”

  “I didn’t, so I’m hoping like hell those guys can save him, but it doesn’t look good. His pulse was weak.”

  “They’ll do what they can.” As a small crowd of people gathered in the alley, the cop took some more information from Jake.

  Jake stayed until the EMTs loaded Dugan into the ambulance. They hadn’t declared him dead yet, no sheet over his head, still connected to an IV.

  As the doors closed on Dugan, Jake fished a card from his pocket and handed it to the officer. “Let me know if he comes back like Lazarus. I’d really like to get my info from him.”

  “Will do.”

  The clutch of looky-loos began to scatter as Jake made his way back to his car. When he got behind the wheel, he clenched it, along with his jaw. What the hell had just happened?

  How had Kyra known about his meeting with Dugan? Had her former foster brother called to warn her? Maybe he threatened to blackmail her, and she came out here to pay up before Jake got there.

  How had she paid him? In drugs? What was she doing over his body? Why hadn’t she called 911? She must’ve been waiting a long time for Dugan to exit her life. If he’d been stalking her and could be paid off to terrorize her with those cards, she wouldn’t shed any tears over his death. But being happy someone was out of the picture was a far cry from helping him along.

  He released the steering wheel and rolled his shoulders. Then he retrieved his cell phone and called Kyra.

  It rang once before her husky voice poured into his ear. “Is he alive?”

  “He looked like it when they loaded him in the ambulance.”

  She let out a breath. “He always did have problems with drugs.”

  “We need to meet. I wanna know what you were doing there.”

  “I’m waiting for you now.”

  “Where?”

  “In front of your house.”

  Great. Had he ever given her his address? The woman probably had access to a lot more information than he could dream of. “Wait there. I’m on my way.”

  He negotiated his way back to the freeway, which was a lot less crowded than on his journey to see Dugan. In less than forty minutes, he was turning off Sunset and snaking his way to his oasis.

  He pulled into the drive that led to his house and jammed on his brakes when he saw the unmarked LAPD detective car in front of his place. When Kyra stuck one long leg out of the car, he murmured. “Son of a...”

  He slammed his car door and locked it. Couldn’t be too careful around her.

  “Did you steal that car from the station?”

  She glanced behind her as if she’d forgotten how she got here. “Borrowed. I’ll return it tonight.”

  “They’ll have you on camera.”

  She shrugged. “Only if someone’s looking for it. Nobody will be looking for it. The detective in Juvenile brings in his own car.”

  “You know just enough to be dangerous.” He stalked past her to his front porch. “How’d you find out where I live?”

  Her eyes widened. “You told me.”

  “I didn’t give you my address. There are a lot of homes in the Hollywood Hills.”

  “Billy told me.”

  “How’d you...?” He turned at the front door, gripping the door handle. “Never mind.”

  He pushed open the door and stood aside, gesturing her across the threshold with a sweep of his arm.

  The gesture was wasted on her. She stood on the porch, eyes closed, nostrils flared. “It’s beautiful here. Peaceful. You don’t even feel like you’re in the city.”

  It was peaceful. “I call it my oasis.”

  Her eyelids flew open, and she stepped past him into the entryway. How did she still manage to smell like roses and sunlight after a long day of work, stealing a police vehicle and finding a dying man?

  He pointed to the most uncomfortable chair in the house. “Sit and start talking.”

  She saw through the ruse and sank onto the sofa, the soft leather whispering beneath her weight. “Can I have something to drink first? I’m parched. Water is okay.”

  He dropped his bag by the front door and marched into the kitchen. He got her the water and grabbed a bottle of beer for himself, although he had a feeling he needed to be the clearheaded one here.

  She took the glass from him with a thanks and downed half of it before he’d even sat down in the chair across from her.

  Just like in any interrogation, he didn’t want her getting too comfortable. “How did you know about my meeting with Dugan?”

  “Did he call you first?” She skimmed her long, delicate fingers along the outside of the glass. “No, he’d never call a cop. You contacted him first. Why?”

  He took a gulp of beer to tamp down his anger, knowing full well alcohol was no answer to fury. “That’s not how this works. Answer my question.”

  A little smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “I saw his text on your phone at the station. I recognized the sender—Mike’s Bike Shop. I know that’s where Matt worked...works. I’d just mentioned Matt to you last night, so I didn’t think it was some coincidence. Quinn told me there are no coincidences.”

  Damn Roger Quinn. Did he realize he’d created a monster?

  “I did one better than just contact Dugan—I me
t the lowlife this afternoon.”

  A flare of petty pleasure burned in his belly when he saw the smile fall from her lips and her cheeks pale.

  “You met with Matt today?”

  “I did.”

  “Why?”

  “I wanted to know if he was the one who planted those cards for you.”

  “And was he?”

  “Yes.”

  She dropped her chin to her chest and tapped the tips of her fingers together. “I see. It doesn’t surprise me. So, why the follow-up meeting?”

  “When he sent me that text, he promised to tell me who paid him to leave the cards.”

  Her head jerked up. “Someone paid him to do it?”

  “That’s what he said in his text.” Jake lifted one shoulder. “If he doesn’t come out of his overdose, we’ll never know.”

  “Let me guess.” She swirled her water in the glass. “He was going to tell you for a price.”

  “Of course.”

  “He could’ve been lying to you.”

  “Maybe. Hopefully, I’ll find out.” She opened her mouth and he raised his finger. “My turn. How’d you know the time and place of our meeting? You may have seen the first line or two of that text, but you didn’t read the whole thing or the follow-ups.”

  “That’s where the theft of the car comes in.” She took a dainty sip of the water as if to counter her confession. “I figured you’d spot me if I followed you in my own car, so I did the deed in a nondescript sedan, one you’d hardly notice even if you were looking for a tail...and you weren’t.”

  He set his bottle on the table next to him harder than he meant to. The crack made her jump. Good. “You did not follow me all the way to my house and then to Van Nuys, reaching the bike shop before I did, all without my noticing you.”

  She folded her hands in her lap on top of her skirt. “I figured you’d be meeting at Mike’s because I know that’s where Matt works and does his dirty deeds. I just didn’t know the time, and I didn’t want to sit on Van Nuys until midnight. I followed you halfway up the hill and waited in a turnout until I saw you come down the hill.”

  “How’d you beat me to the meeting place?” A prickle of suspicion teased his brain, and he held up his hands. “Wait, stop. I don’t want to know.”

  “I was driving an unmarked LAPD sedan.” She cocked one eyebrow. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

  “Yeah, that I can figure out, although I can’t believe your...nerve.” He gripped the neck of his bottle. “What I can’t figure out is why. Why did you need to get there before me? Why was it so important for you to talk to Dugan before I did? Or stop him talking to me.”

  “If Matt’s lips are moving, chances are he’s lying. I didn’t want him to tell you a bunch of lies about me, and he would have.”

  “Who said he was going to talk about you? He was going to tell me who paid him to plant those cards.” He watched her face closely.

  Sensing his scrutiny, she raised the glass to her lips to hide the bottom portion of her face. “Matt was obsessed with me. He wouldn’t miss a chance to talk about me, spread lies. You don’t even know that someone paid him to leave the cards. He’d tell you anything to collect a little dough. He has a problem with drugs—in case you didn’t notice.”

  “Why not just tell me that, then? Why go to all the trouble of stealing a car and following me?”

  She widened her eyes. “Maybe if you’d told me you’d contacted him from the beginning. Why did you sneak around behind my back to find Matt?”

  Jake jumped up from the chair. He didn’t appreciate being in the hot seat in his own home during what was supposed to be his own interrogation. “I did it for you.”

  She dropped her lashes over her eyes, closing herself off even more. “Interesting take.”

  “When you told me you suspected Matt of leaving the cards, I wanted to make sure he stopped. I wanted him to leave you alone.”

  “Sweet, but I’ve been handling Matt Dugan most of my life.” She leaned back on the couch and wedged her feet against the coffee table. “And you thought you did a good deed because he admitted to playing tricks with the cards, which he may or may not have done.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he did it.”

  “Because of your super-awesome detective skills?”

  “Because—” he yanked his suit jacket from a stool at the kitchen counter where he’d left it when he came home from work and dipped his hand in the pocket “—I found these at that dump he calls an apartment.”

  As he spread out the playing cards in his hands, Kyra shot up straight. “He had a deck of cards in his house? So what?”

  “A deck of cards that was missing two queens. You wanna guess which ones?”

  “That bastard. He did do it.” Her eyes glittered, and Jake had to wonder who had more to fear in the ongoing skirmish between Matt and Kyra.

  “He didn’t even admit it to me at the time, but I knew. So, I took the cards. Then he contacted me later to let me know he’d give up the person who paid him to do it...for a price. It could lead to something in this case if he does. If he survives.”

  “Then I hope he does.” She downed the rest of the water and sauntered to the kitchen to put the empty glass in the sink. She pointed to a framed photo on the counter. “Who’s that?”

  “That’s my daughter, Fiona.”

  Kyra’s lips formed an O. “She’s cute. I didn’t know you had a daughter. Didn’t know you had a wife.”

  “Once upon a time before we got divorced.”

  Several emotions played across Kyra’s face at once, ending with a furrowed brow. “Does your daughter stay with your ex?”

  “She does. In Monterey. My ex remarried.” He schooled the bitterness from his voice before he continued. “She married one of the partners in her law firm and he relocated up there, so she took Fiona and moved.”

  “You didn’t have any say in it?”

  “I approved of it.” He tossed back the rest of the beer, but it couldn’t douse the bitterness this time. “I was a lousy father, anyway.”

  “You mean you were a busy father.” She planted her hands on the granite counter and hunched forward. “I doubt you were a lousy father any more than Quinn would’ve been a lousy father.”

  He met her eyes; the iciness had melted into pools of soothing balm. Was this the way she looked at her clients to assure them they weren’t losers who needed some stranger to talk with to sort out their sorry lives?

  He grunted. “Why do you care?”

  “Maybe I’m just trying to apologize for causing you so much grief tonight even though it would’ve had the same outcome whether I’d intervened or not. You would’ve found Matt in the same condition I did.”

  He scraped the soggy blue foil label from his bottle with his fingernail.

  Kyra sucked in a breath. “You’re kidding me.”

  He glanced up from his task. “What?”

  “You think I had something to do with Matt’s overdose?”

  Did he?

  “Of course not. Did I say that?”

  “Sometimes you don’t have to say anything at all. If you have super-awesome detective skills, I have super-awesome therapist skills.”

  He abandoned his project, picked up the bottle and dropped it in the recycling bin, Kyra’s eyes following his every move.

  “I don’t think you killed Matt Dugan.”

  “You think I delayed calling 911.”

  He planted himself in front of her and squared his shoulders. “Who could blame you?” Her lashes fluttered and a rose blush stole across her cheeks. The spark hadn’t hit her eyes though, so he hadn’t stirred her ire. Was she flustered at his closeness?

  He could reach for her right now and angle his mouth across hers, plunge his fingers in the silky strands of her hair, free it from the pon
ytail that kept it and her under tight control.

  She blinked several times and stepped back. “I can assure you, I did not delay calling 911. When you arrived, I had just gotten there.”

  “Then I believe you.”

  She wiped her palms on her skirt. “I’d better take that car back to the station before someone misses it.”

  “Good idea.”

  “You’re not going to...?”

  “I’m not going to rat you out.” He skirted around her to leave the kitchen. “You may not have known about my wife and child, but you do know I’m someone who doesn’t always play by the rules, don’t you? You’d know that about someone before joining forces with him, wouldn’t you?”

  “You make me sound...calculating. You know why I wanted on the task force. The fact that I had to work with you worried me until I got to know you better. You’re a good cop with good instincts.”

  “Who doesn’t always play by the rules.”

  She winked. “That’s just a bonus.”

  “I’m going to call the hospital later to check on Matt. Do you want me to keep you posted?”

  “Of course. I hope you get what you want out of him.” She picked up her purse from the couch cushion. “Thanks for taking charge back there.”

  Had he taken charge? It seemed as if she’d been in control from the moment she’d seen the text on his phone.

  “Be careful driving down the hill. There aren’t many lights. And don’t do anything stupid with that car.”

  “Yes, sir.” She touched her fingers to her forehead. “Let me know what happens with Matt.”

  “I will.” He moved past her to open the front door, and the air between them hung heavy with expectation. He wanted something more from her. He wanted her to tell him the whole truth. What had Matt been about to reveal about her? Why couldn’t she trust him?

  A little voice whispered in his ear. Because you went behind her back to track down Matt Dugan.

  Stepping onto the porch, she lifted her hand. “You have a very cool house, by the way. Shots Fired really paid off.”

  He watched her get into the car and pull out of his driveway. While standing outside, he made a call to the hospital and a nurse told him Dugan was still in a coma. That didn’t sound good.