High-heeled Wonder (A Killer Style Novel) (Entangled Ignite) (8 page)

Chapter Eleven

“In difficult times, fashion is always outrageous.”

—Elsa Schiaparelli

A migrating flock of geese flew in
V
formation past the bathroom window. Tony admired their military precision and dedication as he rubbed a towel across his wet hair. Doubtful any of the males in the group broke out of the lineup just to get wild with one of the females. Nope. They followed the order of things.

He dragged the towel across his chest. It was a shitty day when geese had a better sense of self-preservation than he did.

The gray-and-black flyers disappeared from view and the buzzing at the base of his cock started up again. Gritting his teeth, he wrapped the towel around his hips cursing the morning wood that wouldn’t go away—not while Sylvie’s lavender scent wafted under the closed door of the bathroom, filling the traitorous body part with bad ideas.

A soft giggle erupted from the other side, making him all the more tense.

He wouldn’t look at the bathroom door again.

He.

Would.

Not.

He looked at the bathroom door again. The one that led to his bedroom. Where Sylvie had spent the night. In…an oversized T-shirt? Something see-through and lacy? Yoga pants? Nothing at all? The possibilities made his mouth water and his chubby stiffen into a full-on boner.

Walking more bowlegged than normal, he crossed to the sink and opened the medicine cabinet. His hand hovered next to the can of Barbasol and disposable razor for a moment before closing the mirrored door and opening the cabinet under the sink instead. He rooted past a stack of towels and three rolls of toilet paper until his hand landed on his leather shaving kit and pulled it out. The fancy shaving cream with a badger-hair shaving brush and aftershave had been a gift last Christmas. Really, it was about time he used it.

He’d whipped up the cream in a cup and was brushing it across his stubble when the door flew open.

“Drea, you are such a dork. I will not walk around the house wrapped in Saran Wrap. Where do you read this shit?” Phone glued to her ear, Sylvie stepped into the bathroom, wearing a green tank top that dipped low between her boobs and the world’s smallest pair of green panties. Her honey-brown hair fell in waves around her face, making it look as if she’d just rolled out of bed after a good time.

If only
.

In a heartbeat he understood what those annoying commercials meant about painful erection. Damn, he’d never been this hard.

She stopped dead in her tracks. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” The words rushed out of her luscious mouth and her cheeks blazed. “Not you, Drea. I just walked in on Tony. In the bathroom. No, he’s not naked—” Her gaze dropped to his bare chest and continued south. “He’s wearing a towel… A, um,
small
towel,” she squeaked out before slapping her hand over her eyes. “Oh. My. God.” She reeled backward out of the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but the image of her just-been-fucked hair, muscular thighs, curvy hips, and magnificent tits had seared itself onto the back of his eyelids. He’d be seeing it every time he closed his eyes until he was eighty.

“Fuckin’
A
.” He dropped the shaving brush back into the cup and splashed cold water over his face. It did nothing to alleviate the throbbing in his cock.

He was considering an ice-cold shower when Sylvie rapped on the door.

“I’m really sorry about that, Tony,” she said, the door muffling her voice. “I didn’t realize anyone else was up.”

He gritted his teeth. Oh, yeah. He was up, all right.

He reached for the doorknob before he remembered towels did not qualify as proper boner concealment. He yanked his hand away as if the knob was covered in green snot.

“My fault,” he called. “I should have locked the door. Anyway, I have to make a run into Harbor City this morning.”

“Did you get a new lead?” The hopeful note in her voice flicked him in the nads.

“Nah.”

Even though she’d crossed Ivy off her suspect chart, he wasn’t so sure. Sylvie wouldn’t be too pleased to hear that he was taking his IT guy to check out Ivy’s computer, and there was no way he’d take her with him…on the off chance Ivy went batshit crazy.

“We need to talk about what happened last night,” she said.

His cock drooped a few degrees. The last thing he wanted was to discuss how he’d come all over her hand like a horny teenager on prom night. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Not asking.”

His toes started to itch and he backed away from the door as if it were a nuclear reactor in meltdown mode. For once when dealing with Sylvie, he was going to listen to reason and get the hell out of Dodge on a bullet train.

But speeding backward, his right foot got tangled in the rug and he stumbled. Fighting to keep his balance on his bum knee, he flung his arms out and grabbed for anything to stop his fall. He connected with the shower curtain. His fingers fisted the thick plastic, but gravity already had him in its clutches. The rings holding up the shower curtain popped under his weight and he landed flat on his back, his head whacking against the laminate floor.

Sylvie burst into the bathroom, rushing to his side. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.” Unless you counted his pride.

She leaned over him and her fingers sailed, whisper soft, over his head, face, and chest. “Are you sure? You could have a concussion.”

Her movements shifted her tank top lower, giving him a perfect view of her free-swinging tits. Full and heavy, they brushed against his cheek as she combed through his hair, presumably looking for cuts or bumps.

Hell, a head wound would be a blessing. It would distract her so she wouldn’t notice the tent growing in his lap.
Again
. Stupid shower curtain. Why couldn’t it have fallen across him?

Sylvie straightened. “Looks like you’ll live. Can you sit up?”

The plastic crinkled as he discreetly tried to slide it over himself.

Her eyes slid downward. A smirk curled her lips upward. “Yeah, I think you’ll be just fine.”

Well, he’d bit the big one at running, and cowering wasn’t his style. Maybe he should let her look her fill. Rolling to his feet, he stood with his legs braced apart, hands planted on his towel-covered hips, and stared her straight in the face.

Her emerald eyes went fuzzy as she sucked on her bottom lip and her nipples popped to attention under her thin shirt.

Ha
. At last the tide was turning in his favor. “Okay. You wanted to talk?”

“Talk?” She blinked rapidly. “Oh. Yes. About last night.”

He jumped in before she could start. “I won’t deny I’m attracted to you.” She barely came up to his shoulders. Her hair stuck out everywhere. Bright blue toothpaste smudged her cheek. A bandage was stuck to her shin. “
Very
attracted. But you’re my client. I can’t let you get hurt by not thinking like the cold-blooded bastard who’s after you.”

“So you don’t take cases where you’re emotionally involved.” Frowning, she crossed her arms under her bountiful breasts.
God
, she was sexy.

“Hell no. Emotions will get you killed.” With the desperation of a sinner on his deathbed, he prayed she’d agree to ignore the constant pull between them. He hadn’t completely lost his hold on sanity when it came to her, but his grip was slipping.

Fast.

She shot him a calculated smile and tilted her head. “I see. Well then, who would you hire if someone threatened your sister or your nephew?”

“Myself.” As if he’d trust anyone else on something that important.

“So you don’t care about your family?”

Fuck. “Of course I do.” His little head really had taken over if he’d missing seeing that coming.

“Ha! I thought so.”

One of the most important things he’d learned in growing up in a house full of stubborn women was when to shut his pie hole. This was one of those times.

Determination lit up her beautiful face. “You’ve got your rules. I understand that. This attraction between us, it may not be the end-all-be-all, but it’s something. Maybe something big. And I’m not going to pretend last night only happened because I wanted comfort and you were handy. I wanted you.
You
. Still do. Consider yourself warned, Tony Falcon. I’m done being afraid of taking risks, and I’m gunning for you.”

His brain combusted so completely he smelled burnt wires.

She sneaked closer, stretching up and wrapping her arms around his neck. Her lips touched his, setting off a lightning storm that electrified him from the toes up. It was a kiss meant to throw down the gauntlet and dare him to accept the challenge. And, sucky for him, it was over almost as soon as it began.

She stepped back and ran her shaky fingers across her lips, then whirled and marched out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind her with a firm
click
.

His father had warned him years ago that dangerous women knew exactly what they wanted and were smart enough to get it. Tony’s itchy toes told him he’d just kissed the most dangerous woman in the world.

And she was going to hate his guts when she found out that he’d been the one to send the first nasty e-mails to the High-Heeled Wonder.

Chapter Twelve

“I tell women not to believe everything they read about fashion.”

—Geoffrey Beene

Using his sunglasses as a shield, Tony peered at Carlos Castillo’s clothes while they waited for Ivy Rhodes to answer her door. Maltese Security’s IT guru looked like he bought all his clothes at a ComicCon booth—black Chuck Taylor high-tops, dark-wash jeans, and a black
Firefly
T-shirt. A leather strap angled across his chest, leading down to a brown messenger bag with a blue telephone booth airbrushed on the flap.

“’Los, we work with the fashion industry, we’ve got to get you some decent clothes.”

“No way, man. You see a tech guy in a nice suit, run the other way, because he doesn’t know jack shit about what he’s doing.”

Okay. He might have a point.

The door opened the two inches Ivy’s chain lock allowed.

“You don’t look like any of the Jehovah’s Witness or Mormon missionaries who always seem to turn up at”—she glanced at her watch—“eight o’clock on the dot. Man, the missionaries do love to get rolling early.”

Carlos smiled at his shoes. “Ivy Rhodes?”

The IT guy’s light Spanish accent softened her name and she reacted the way most girls did when Carlos hit them with the rolled
R
s—she relaxed and smiled coyly. Tony had seen it a million times. ’Los never noticed.

“Uh-huh?” Her eyelashes fluttered.

“Carlos Castillo with Maltese Security.” ’Los held up a black business card. “Can we come in?”

The fluttering stopped abruptly. “We?”

Tony stepped into her two-inch-wide field of vision. “Hi, Ivy. We need to talk about Sylvie.”

Her eyes widened in alarm. “Is she hurt?”

“No. We just need to ask you some questions.”

“Give me a sec.” She shut the door and slid the brass chain out of the lock, then swung the door open, half hiding behind it. “Come on in.”

Tony and Carlos strolled in. Ivy towered at least four inches taller than Carlos. In bare feet. Stopping in the middle of her OCD-neat apartment, Tony gave the studio a once-over while Carlos eyeballed her computer setup. Getting access to Ivy’s laptop and computer files was ’Los’s area of expertise, which was why he was taking the lead on this interview. For once, Tony got to be good cop.

Carlos wandered over to her writing desk. “We know you told the world about Sylvie being the High-Heeled Wonder, but there’s more to it than just that. Isn’t there?” He stopped next to her closed laptop.

“What do you mean?”

He tilted his head speculatively. “It’s gotta be hard to watch someone else rise when you’re on your way down.”

Her lips thinned. “A great ass and a shitty personality. Are you sure we didn’t date at some point? Because you sure would fit in with most of my ex-boyfriends.” She eyed him warily. “Look, I want to help Sylvie but…” She reopened the front door. “I’ve already said everything I have to say.”

Carlos glanced down at the laptop and drummed his caramel-colored fingers against a purple elf sticker on the lid.

It wasn’t the tack Tony would have taken, but he couldn’t deny ’Los was getting a reaction.

Ivy shut the front door with a firm
thunk
that rattled the chain lock. She shoved a hand into her pocket and withdrew her ninety-day chip, rubbing it between her fingers like a talisman. “I never broke into Sylvie’s and I didn’t take her laptop. Search the place, if you don’t believe me.”

Carlos shook his head. “We know why you took it, but it’s too late. We already know all the e-mails came from you.”

She nearly snapped the chip between her fingers. “What e-mails?”

Something in her agitated tone must have connected with Carlos because his expression softened. “The e-mails threatening Sylvie with bodily harm if she didn’t close down her blog. All of which came from your IP address.”

Blood rushed in Tony’s ears louder than any tornado in a trailer park. Why the hell hadn’t Carlos shared that little tidbit? He wasn’t going to make a scene in front of a civilian, but when they got back to the office, Carlos’s ass was grass.

“It’s easy enough to clear up.” Tony said with a friendly smile, forcing himself into the pre-planned good cop role. “Let Carlos take a look at your computer.”

She didn’t even hesitate. “Knock yourself out.” Waving a hand at the laptop, she marched to the desk and flopped down into the rolling office chair. Yanking out her phone, she tapped in a few numbers and a beep sounded.

Carlos snapped open the laptop, revealing the
Magic Battledome
home page. “You play?” His fingers clacked across the keyboard.

“Yeah.”

“Somehow, I didn’t picture you for an online gamer.” Tony tried to figure out how a hot chick like her ended up hanging with the geek squad.

She laughed. “Makes two of us.”

“It is unusual for a girl—” A split-second flash on the screen pulled Carlos’s attention. “What the hell?” His whole body tensed.

Ivy finished fiddling with her phone and rolled her chair over next to Carlos. “Oh, that drives me nuts.”

Tony leaned in closer to see what was going on. The curser on her screen jumped to another open window all on its own. As if by magic, her e-mail program opened.

“I swear I’m going to toss this piece of crap out the window one of these days.” She pushed the power button on the laptop and held it down until the screen turned black.

“How long has this been going on?” Anger sharpened Carlos’s voice to a deadly edge.

“A couple of months.”

“How often does it do this?”

“Not very often.” The words tumbled out nervously. “Usually I’m only on the laptop when I’m gaming. I use my tablet for everything else. I don’t even remember the last time I checked e-mail or shopped online with the laptop.”

“And you always turn it off right away?” Tony asked.

“Mm-hmm.” She kept her eyes on the spaceship on Carlos’s T-shirt. “At least I always mean to, but sometimes I’m in the middle of a
Magic Battledome
skirmish and it doesn’t work out that way.”

’Los whipped off his glasses and rubbed them with the corner of his shirt. “Looks like somebody hacked your system and has been controlling your laptop. Using your address to send Sylvie hate mail, covering their tracks.”

And throwing suspicion onto someone who actually had motive. Heat steamed Tony’s chest.
Shit
.

“How?” Ivy asked, clearly upset.

“All a hacker needs to break into a computer is the IP address,” Carlos explained. “So when an e-mail is traced, it leads back to your IP address and you.”

Ivy blinked. “One more time for us civilians.”

“Okay, so your IP address is like a home address for your computer. You’ve been using a static IP address with a lame firewall.” At her blank look he said, “Crap security setup. So our guy figured out your IP address, which he probably got from an e-mail you sent him, and then he used it to access your computer whenever you were online. It’s easy. You just—”

Ivy held up her hand, stopping the lecture. “I don’t need the details, just the point, Einstein.”

Carlos rolled his eyes in the universal tech guy sign for idiot. “The bad guy hacked into your computer and used it to send threatening e-mails to Sylvie. Making
you
look guilty.”

“Holy shit,” she muttered.

Tony yanked his phone out of his pocket. The rest of the team needed to be alerted—especially Ryder, who was keeping an eye on Sylvie while he was gone. “Can you figure out who did it?” he asked Carlos.

“Does the red shirt always die on
Star Trek
?” Carlos grinned and raised a hand to Ivy for a high five.

“Um…yes?” Despite the confusion in her eyes, Ivy slapped the tech guy’s palm.

“All right. Stand back.” Carlos cracked his fingers and then attacked the keyboard with the focus of a cat stalking a particularly plump pigeon.

“How long will it take?” Ivy asked over his shoulder.

’Los shrugged. “Depends.”

A flood of coded information rolled down the laptop screen as Tony listened to the phone ringing at Ryder’s. To him, the avalanche of numbers made about as much sense as hieroglyphics, but to Carlos the gobbledygook was the solution to a riddle.

Ryder wasn’t answering. Tony left a message and hung up.

“There you are,” Carlos mumbled, halting the stream of code. He copied a set of numbers, plugged them into a different program, and minimized it, revealing Ivy’s screensaver.

A
Magic Battledome
avatar of a giant warrior appeared on the screen holding a monstrous scythe with a long, curved blade. A woman with bright red hair stood next to the warrior, drawing back the string of her bow and aiming a fire arrow at an unseen enemy.

The tech guy’s jaw practically hit the desk and his spine snapped straight. “
Dios mío
.”

“You’re not going to give me crap for playing
Magic Battledome
, are you?” Ivy’s tough tone didn’t quite cover the quiver underneath. “I started playing in rehab. So much better than taking up smoking or reading yet another self-help book. Anyway, I like that it requires you to think strategically and always be one step ahead of your enemy. It’s good practice for life.”

Carlos shot out of his chair and whirled to face her. “Scarlett?”

She froze for an electric moment and then leveled the full weight of her wide blue eyes on him. “How— Who—”

He swallowed. “It’s me…Zephyr.”

Pink tinged her face, drowning the freckles dusting her high cheekbones. “Oh my God.
Zephyr?
” She jumped up from her chair and flung her arms around him, his head fitting into the crook of her neck, squeezing so tightly it had to be limiting ’Los’s lung capacity. “Zephyr!”

“But you’re a supermodel. You can’t be Scarlett.”

Tony looked at them incredulously. “What the hell, people?”

Carlos glanced at him. “So you know I play
Magic Battledome
, right? Well, Scarlett—
Ivy
—is my partner, has been for more than a year.”

“Partner?” Tony had a sinking suspicion he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“We fight battles together.” ’Los’s ears turned red. “And stuff.”

“I can’t believe it.” Excitement punched Ivy’s pitch higher, and she ended her iron-armed hug. Her hands slid up Carlos arms, over his shoulders, and to his face. “It’s really you.”

Tony cringed. Time to end this before it turned really weird. As if it wasn’t already. “Hey ’Los, can I talk to you for a second? In private?”

Ivy released her hold on Maltese Security’s technical brain trust. “I’m getting a Red Bull.” She sauntered toward the kitchen and paused, looking back over her shoulder. “Zephyr in the flesh. Wow.”

Tony waited until she moved to the other side of the apartment and then counted to twenty while Carlos prowled the perimeter of Ivy’s living room. It was one thing if Carlos wanted to go all drooling puppy dog over Ivy on his own time, but they couldn’t afford to lose sight of the case. That’s how investigations went south. He wouldn’t risk Sylvie getting hurt.

“Look,” Tony said. “You think you know her because of that game, and I get that. But she’s still at the front of the suspect line.”

Carlos’s step hitched. “I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“Gut feeling.”

“I need more than that.”

“Normally so would I, but we can’t ignore the intangible this time.” Carlos stopped in front of Ivy’s laptop. “This picture of Zephyr and Scarlett was a screenshot taken during a battle where we destroyed a band of enchanted canids guarding Poseidon’s trident. She’d refused to move away from my six even when the pack had turned on me, giving her an open route to the trident and solo success. If she is even half as loyal in the real world, she’d never terrorize Sylvie.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and shoved a hand through his hair. “You’re justifying your position because of a
computer
game
?”

“Someone has been remotely controlling her computer using a proxy server.” The words raced off of Carlos’s tongue. “They had total access to everything on her hard drive and could easily have left a cyber-trail to make it
look
like Ivy was the troll.”

“Could have. Whoever has been controlling the computer from the outside
could
be totally unrelated to Sylvie’s stalker. Or it
could
be Ivy covering her tracks.”

Carlos shook his head. “No way. I just need a little more time to prove it. I have a trace on the proxy server now. If they keep any kind of user logs, I can hack in and connect the dots.”

Tony considered the man in front of him. Carlos had joined their team a few years ago and had done stellar work since then. His instincts were usually dead on…but something about this whole thing made Tony’s toes itch. “How much time do you need?”

Carlos fist pumped the air. “Forty-eight hours.”

God, he hoped he wasn’t going to regret this. “You have twenty-four. And ’Los?”

“Yeah?”

Tony leveled a hard look at him. “There’s a woman’s life riding on this case. Don’t fuck it up.”