Authors: Karen Rose
He chuckled. ‘Damn, now I wish I did. But I don’t, and I have a mess of my own to clean up here. Too many people got involved in this, and Chip there hurt some of my people, so I’m short-handed. And FYI, the cops rescued Aunt Tabby and have sent her to the hospital. I’ve given the order to have her finished off there.’
Stephanie absorbed this. ‘So no one was ever coming to help us, were they?’
‘Nope. Sorry.’ Bitch of it was, he did feel sorry. And oddly reluctant to leave her tied to the chair, even though he had work to do. He felt oddly reluctant to leave her at all. ‘Why did Drake take Chip’s gun to the alley?’ he asked. ‘The truth.’
She lifted a shoulder. ‘Tala had been meeting some guy in the park. I was supposed to walk the dog, but I hated to. Stupid dog. I made Tala do it, to get her out of the house when I wanted Drake to myself. I’d send her out at two, three in the morning. A few days ago I caught her humming a tune and got suspicious. Drake and I checked the logs and saw that some nights she stayed in one place for five minutes or more.’ Stephanie’s smile was reptilian. ‘I beat her within an inch of her life. It was a wonder the bitch could walk.’
‘How did you know she was meeting a man?’ Ken nodded, immediately seeing his own mistake. ‘Oh, right. The audio files.’
‘Yes. Drake was livid that she was sniffing around the guy in the park. He set her up by telling her we were going into the city that night to buy drugs. He left his jacket in the room with her, with his cell phone in the pocket. He wanted her to use it, and she did. She met the guy in the alley, and . . . you know the rest.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, and meant it. He carefully locked up his cart with all of his weapons, then left her sitting there. He was halfway up the stairs when she spoke again.
‘Excuse me,’ she called. ‘I don’t know your name.’
‘You don’t need to.’
A frustrated huff. ‘How much are you going to ask for me?’
‘I don’t know. It’ll be an auction. But I’ll make sure the winner won’t beat you.’
‘That’s not a major comfort,’ she said sarcastically. ‘How much is the “buy now” option?’
‘Like on eBay?’ He laughed. ‘We’re a little more sophisticated than that.’ But because she’d intrigued him, he gave her a number that was over-the-moon inflated. ‘Two million.’
She considered it. ‘I’d like to buy myself, then.’
Startled, he came back down the stairs to stand five feet away, carefully avoiding the pools of Chip’s blood. ‘What do you propose using for money?’
‘I have Chip’s bank account passwords.’
‘You’re lying,’ he said, although he appreciated the effort. ‘If you had them, you wouldn’t have been worried about losing your credit cards.’ He went back up the stairs, chuckling at the vile curses she flung at him. ‘I’d take you myself, but I’d never sleep a wink,’ he said. ‘You’d go all Sharon Stone on me the second I closed my eyes, and they’d find me with an ice pick through my heart.’
‘What does that even mean?’ she demanded, and he laughed again.
‘That you are far too young for me, Stephanie. I’ll send someone down with some food in a little while.’
He locked the door and texted Alice to come out to the house. He’d send her down to tend to Stephanie, along with Burton. Then he’d have Burton dispose of the bodies.
For a moment – just a moment – he’d been tempted to allow Stephanie to buy herself outright. But that was a crazy thought and Ken Sweeney was not a crazy man. Just once, he’d like to let go with a woman and not worry so much . . . But not with that one. She was trouble with a capital T.
He forced himself to march away from the basement door and into his office, where he planted his ass behind his desk. But rather than working, he opened his phone and checked his tracking program once again. Reuben and his right hand, Jason Jackson, were both still AWOL. Demetrius was still sitting near the
Ledger
’s front door. Burton was on his way back to Ken’s house, to do a forensic examination of Reuben’s car. Joel was in his home office, no doubt working the books, and Sean and Alice were in the office downtown.
Decker’s phone was at County General, which hopefully meant he was taking care of dear Aunt Tabby. The old woman was a loose end they couldn’t leave unsnipped.
Everyone was where they should be except for Reuben and Jason Jackson. Ken sent a group text to them all, telling them to come to his house for a mandatory meeting.
His company was spiraling out of control and things had to change. Otherwise Ken would take them all out – every last one of his so-called trusted group – and start all over again on a beach in the Turks and Caicos.
Seventeen
Cincinnati, Ohio
Tuesday 4 August, 3.25
P.M.
Marcus breathed a quiet sigh of relief when Scarlett turned on to her street. He hadn’t been certain that she actually intended to bring him to her house. She’d been totally rattled after that kiss, worried that she’d let go so completely that she’d forgotten her job. Even as the knowledge made him feel ten feet tall, he knew that if she’d turned around mid-route and taken him back to his office, he wouldn’t have complained or cajoled. It would have been her choice and he would have honored that. Because that kiss had rattled him too. He wanted her unfettered in her pleasure, wanted to make her forget her own damn name. But she had to want that too.
Now that they were so close to her house, he let himself believe that she did want him enough, that this thing between them had a real chance, whatever ‘this thing’ was.
He sighed to himself. And now that they were so close to her house – and to her next-door neighbor – he had something he needed to set straight. He hoped what he was about to tell her wouldn’t make her change her mind. ‘I, um, have a confession to make,’ he said, breaking the silence that had filled the car since Scarlett had gotten back on the highway. ‘I told you that I drove by your house.’
She downshifted as they started up the enormous hill atop which her house sat as if holding court with the houses gathered around. ‘Four times, I think you said.’
‘Yeah, well, I did a bit more than just drive by and look. When I saw your big Land Cruiser always parked in the driveway, I wondered whose it was.’
‘It’s mine,’ Scarlett said sharply.
‘I know that now. I thought at first it might belong to a . . . significant other.’
‘How did you find out it was mine?’ she asked.
He braced himself. ‘I kind of sort of asked your neighbor.’
Her brows shot up. ‘You kind-of-sort-of asked Mrs Pepper?’ She huffed in exasperation. ‘Oh for God’s sake. She’s the biggest gossip in the neighborhood.’
‘I didn’t intend to,’ he said defensively. ‘And I didn’t come straight out and ask her. I have a little more finesse than that.’
‘If you managed to get one by Mrs Pepper, then you’re a better man than most.’
But he wasn’t. He knew that. He was a better man than some, but not most. For months the truth about his mission at the
Ledger
had kept him from pursuing this woman he’d never been able to get out of his mind. No longer, he thought. He still had no intention of dragging her into his bend-the-law world. He wouldn’t ask her to look the other way or to betray her integrity by helping him. But he wasn’t letting her go. He’d find a way to have it all.
If she hadn’t been interested, he wouldn’t have pushed her. Hell, he wouldn’t even be here right now. But she was. She hadn’t pushed him away earlier. Far from it.
He had to touch her again soon or he was going to burn up, from the inside out.
‘I’m not sure I managed to get anything by Mrs Pepper. She might remember me.’
‘I have no doubt she will,’ Scarlett said dryly. ‘That woman is old, not dead. She has an appreciation for the male form. She paints, you know. I wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up on one of her canvases.’
He grinned at Scarlett’s sideways compliment. ‘Really? That wouldn’t be so bad.’
‘She only paints nudes.’
Marcus coughed. ‘Well. I’m . . . Thank you, Scarlett. Now I have that image in my mind.’
‘Hey, you’re the one who tangled with her.’
‘I only got out to check the license plates on the Land Cruiser. They were covered in mud.’
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. ‘When was this?’
‘Late March.’
‘Ah, we’d just had some snow.’ She motioned with her hand. ‘So, keep going.’
She was enjoying this, he realized. Which was fine with him. ‘Well, your neighbor takes her watch responsibilities seriously. She saw me checking out the Land Cruiser and came out to your driveway. “Young man,”’ he mimicked in a falsetto, ‘“do you
mind
telling me why you’re on
Detective
Bishop’s property? The woman owns
guns
, boy. Lots of
guns
.”’
Scarlett laughed. ‘She didn’t really say that.’
Marcus thought he could watch her laugh all day.
And all night
. ‘She totally did, I swear it. I told her that I was interested in buying the Land Cruiser and asked if she knew the name of the owner. She told me that you owned it and always had. I was very relieved.’
‘You could have just run my plates,’ Scarlett said tartly. ‘I’m sure you have the resources to do that.’
‘I do, and I did,’ he said. ‘The search confirmed what she said. Anyway, I did it mainly because I needed to know if I had a chance or if you were already taken. I’m sorry. I should have just asked Deacon. I thought you should know in case your neighbor remembers me.’
‘She will. She’s almost ninety, but she’s still sharp as a tack.’
‘I got that. I like your house, by the way,’ he said as they pulled into the driveway next to the Land Cruiser. The old Victorian was a charming cacophony of colors. ‘It has character.’
Staring up at it, she sighed. ‘It looks like a patchwork quilt right now. The old owners painted it willy-nilly with whatever was on sale. Purple, pink, green. Chartreuse, even. Don’t get me wrong, I like bright colors, but I want it to be authentic. I’ve been sanding it, getting it ready to paint it again.’
‘What color did you pick?’
‘Blue,’ she said with a smile. ‘A bright robin’s-egg blue with butterscotch trim. It was the original color when it was built in 1880. I found an old photo in the historical society’s archives with the colors listed on the back. It’s slow going, though. I’m nervous about using a power sander, so I’ve been doing it all by hand.’
‘You’re sanding it yourself? By hand? I thought you had six brothers.’
‘I do. Two of them are married with kids, so they have no free time. Two others are cops and work weird hours, so they’re never off when I am. One is a musician. He plays the cello with the Cincinnati Pops.’ She wiggled her fingers. ‘He can’t risk his hands.’
Marcus rolled his eyes, getting out of the car when she did and following her up to the garage door. ‘I play an instrument and I do plenty of sanding with my hands.’ He wiggled his fingers and she gave him a smile that was half shy and half seduction – and he wasn’t even sure she knew she did so.
‘I know you play the guitar. I heard it on the videos. I . . . I liked it very much.’
He wanted to grab her and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe. ‘It’s just a hobby. I guess if it were my living, I’d be more careful with my hands.’
‘No, you’re right. There are plenty of things Nathaniel could do to help me around here, but he’s the baby of the family and Mama won’t let us put a tool belt on him.’ She leaned in a fraction and whispered, ‘But he sneaks over here sometimes to help me in my workshop. Don’t tell my mother.’
‘Your secret is safe with me,’ he said, and watched for her reaction.
Her blue eyes flickered with memory, her smile fading. ‘I think it just might be,’ she murmured, making his heart do a slow roll inside his chest.
They’d had this conversation before, back when he’d been in the hospital. Except their lines had been reversed. She’d remembered – not only the exact words, but she’d heard the nuance in his voice that day and now she reproduced it.
Trust
, he thought. They were building trust. It was a damn good start.
Abruptly she bent over and yanked up one of the two garage doors before he could even offer to help. He waited until she’d straightened to say, ‘That was only five.’
She blinked. ‘What?’
‘You said you have six brothers but only mentioned five.’
She moved her shoulders uncomfortably. ‘Phin went to Iraq and came back somebody different. He moved down South a while back, but we don’t know where. We don’t hear from him that often.’
‘Oh.’ Marcus sighed. ‘That happened to a lot of men I knew over there. I’m sorry.’
‘Thanks. We’re twins, so he was always there until I went to college and he joined up. Now he’s gone and I miss him.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I figured you’d want the nickel tour, so we’ll start here.’
‘Scar-
lett
!’ They turned to find her elderly neighbor standing on the front porch next door, waving to them. ‘You forgot to introduce me to your young man.’
‘I didn’t want to bother you, Mrs Pepper.’
The old woman gave her a stern look. ‘Stuff and nonsense. Come here, young man. Closer.’ She crooked a finger, and Marcus obeyed, walking across the grass to the old woman’s front lawn. ‘Closer. My eyes aren’t so good anymore.’
‘Pfff,’ Scarlett said, but followed him as he obeyed, getting right up against her porch railing and looking up to meet a pair of sharp, intelligent eyes. He cocked a brow, wondering if she remembered him. The woman’s eyes twinkled, giving him his answer. ‘I like this one,’ she told Scarlett. ‘Much better than that other one. This one’s got a pure aura. The other one . . .’ She made a face. ‘I’m glad you gave him his walking papers.’
Marcus glanced over at Scarlett, his brows nearly leaping off his forehead he raised them so high in question. ‘Other one?’
Scarlett’s cheeks were flushed. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, Mrs Pepper, but we’re pressed for time. I just came home to walk Zat.’
‘Of course.’ She sobered abruptly. ‘Be careful, Scarlett. I have a bad feeling in my knees. You’re overdue for trouble.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Scarlett said dutifully. ‘I’ll be very careful.’
‘You never did tell me your name, young man,’ Mrs Pepper said briskly.
‘O’Bannion, ma’am. Marcus O’Bannion.’
‘It’s nice to formally meet you. You come back if you need anything, y’hear?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said. He gave the old woman a courteous nod, then turned to follow Scarlett into her garage. Once inside, he stood for a moment, looking around, then turned in a circle to see it all. ‘Wow.’
Half of the garage was empty, a telltale oil spot on the floor marking it as where she parked her little Audi. But the other half was filled with wood in various stages of production, and with tools – power saws and routers and lathes . . . He sucked in a breath. And with glass.
Stained glass in all colors and shapes sat propped up on shelves. About ten shards in the colors of the rainbow hung from the ceiling, twisting and spinning in the breeze created by the ceiling fan.
‘You should have a window,’ he said quietly. ‘They’d sparkle.’
‘They do, when I open both garage doors and let the sunshine in.’ She pulled the second door up and stood back, a small smile playing on her lips.
‘Did you make them?’
‘Yes. These hanging here were the rejects because the glass is all bubbly, but I like them. Sometimes I’ll make them bubbly on purpose now.’
‘I like them too. All this . . .’ He pointed to the woodworking tools. ‘All yours?’
‘Yep. I inherited it from my grandfather along with the Tank. The Land Cruiser,’ she clarified. ‘I was the only one of his grandchildren that showed any interest in woodworking. It helps me vent off stress when I have a bad day at work.’
He picked up a finely turned wooden spindle that would eventually end up in a chair. ‘You make furniture?’
‘Some. I fix a lot. Sometimes people throw away stuff that’s still good. It just needs a little TLC. Some sanding, a new leg or some upholstery. A coat of paint or varnish. Then it’s good as new. Better, even.’
‘What do you do with the furniture you rescue?’ he asked.
‘Donate it, mostly. I keep some. Give a few pieces as gifts.’ She pointed to an old-fashioned roll-top desk that had been stripped and sanded, the drawers freshly stained. ‘That’s going to be a wedding present for Deacon and Faith. It’ll look nice when it’s done.’
‘Faith will love it,’ he said, knowing his cousin’s fascination with antiques. She had spent the past nine months inventorying then selling off many of the best pieces she’d inherited from her grandmother, putting the money in a fund for the victims of the killer who’d taken Mikhail’s life and the lives of so many others. ‘She’ll treasure it because you put so much time into it.’
Shrugging self-consciously, Scarlett reached up to pull the string on the overhead light bulb, illuminating the garage before pulling both outer doors down. Marcus considered helping her, but he was enjoying watching the movement of her body as she stretched and turned and flexed. She came to her feet after pulling down the second door and stared at him, clearly seeing the appreciation on his face.
‘It’s not a crime scene,’ he said, looking his fill. He’d seen her shiver before when he’d dropped his voice deeper, so he did that now, shamelessly enticing her with any tool at his disposal. ‘And we are definitely not in public.’
‘No,’ she said huskily, sending every drop of blood from his head to his groin.
He moved toward her, but she sidestepped him. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I have to walk the dog.’