The Sweetheart Racket (21 page)

I
t was sometime later when Rick helped Taryn out of the dumpster and helped her straighten her clothes. Her hair had escaped the rubber band thing, falling in clumps around her face, and her shirt was inside out.

They hadn't gone all the way; after all, they were in a dumpster and despite being relatively clean, it was, well, a dumpster, and not the most romantic place for lovemaking.

But it ranked up there as the hottest make-out session since Kelly Gilly in tenth grade. Since he'd been a hormonally overloaded teenage virgin that time, this was better; because Rick knew that when he got Taryn home, he'd get lucky.

“Here, let me.” He pulled her shirt off, and may have “accidentally” copped a feel in the process, and turned it right side out. She was wearing a simple cream bra, with an edge of lace and a tiny pink flower between her breasts.

Sexy but understated. Like her. He almost flipped her back into the dumpster to finish what they'd started.

“If all stakeouts end this way, I get why you like your job,” he said against her ear and pulled the shirt back down over her head. Skimming his hands over her trim waist, he settled the shirt into place.

She sighed and leaned into him. He held her and lowered his face to breathe in the scent of strawberries from her shampoo. She did like her fruity scents.

“I like you,” she said, muffled by her face buried in his shirt. Her hand slipped to his butt.

“I like you, too.” He more than liked her. He was falling hard for her. How could a guy not like a woman who made out with him in a dumpster, behind a mall, while being hunted by mall thieves? She was everything he liked and everything he should run away from. He'd always lived a carefree existence, never making women any promises or commitments, while keeping his heart unattached. Taryn was smart and beautiful, but more than that, she was a safe place to land, a home.

She was a forever.

And he wasn't sure he was ready for that. But he knew he wasn't ready to let her go.

She tipped back her head and looked at him. His heart softened as one hazel eye peered through her bangs. Her hand moved from his butt to caress his chest. His breath hitched.

Yep. Forever.

“We should go in case our thieves come back,” she said.

Instead, he kissed her. Her mouth was warm and soft. She teased him with her tongue and sent heat through his body. He cupped and kneaded one ass cheek, pressing her against his erection. “You drive me nuts.”

She smiled under his mouth.

He broke the kiss. “Let's go before I change my mind and show you what I can really do on a bed of cardboard.”

* * *

The walk back to the car was uneventful. There was no sign of the thieves. She had photographic proof of the thefts and the men responsible, so tomorrow it would be handed over to the mall manager to use for criminal apprehension. Otherwise, their part of the case was closed.

Oddly, the panel truck was still in place, though the engine had been turned off.

“How odd.” Taryn scanned the shadows outside of the streetlamps. Nothing. If the thieves were hiding, they were doing a very good job of it. “I'd have thought our criminals would be halfway to Canada by now.”

“I think they were waylaid.” Rick pointed toward the Olds when it came into view. Lined up on their stomachs, on the hood of the Olds, with their hands taped behind their backs, were the three thieves unsuccessfully fighting their bindings.

A large man holding a very ugly dog stood watch nearby.

“What in the—” Taryn knew that face, and that dog. She walked over to Alvin. “What are you doing here?”

“Bodyguarding you.” Taped mouths kept his prisoners quiet, yet it didn't take words to figure out that their opinion of Alvin was negative. “I did good, huh?”

So much for Irving's rule of observation, not interaction. So much for keeping the thefts quiet. They couldn't release the thieves now. And his criminal apprehension couldn't have come at a worse time. She should be on her way home for some hot sex, not spending the next hour or two making reports.

“I'll call the police,” Rick said and stepped away.

Ultimately, she kept her disappointment to herself. “You did fine. But I don't need a bodyguard.”

His expression disagreed; then he spent the next two minutes telling her how he nabbed the thieves. It mostly involved head knocking, and whimpering on their part. They'd all but lain down and let him tape them up when he threatened to skin them.

What disturbed her was the not knowing if he was serious about the skinning part.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she said, “How'd you get here, Alvin?”

“Kitty drove me.” He pointed to a small red car at the edge of the lot and waved. Headlights flashed in response.

Great.

Sirens screamed in the distance. A shadow crossed his face. He handed the dog over and headed toward Kitty's car. “I gotta go. I may be wanted in a couple of states.”

* * *

Taryn spent a lot of time explaining to the Ann Arbor police sergeant how she and Rick had captured the thieves, the reason she would take a dog on a stakeout, and the fact that the three men must all be collectively hallucinating about a large hairy man. Drug abuse was a problem throughout the world, after all.

How she managed to lie to the police without cracking was still a mystery nine hours later, when she pulled into the lot at Brash. She wasn't the best liar anyway and her respect for law enforcement ran deep. But the thieves were caught and what did it matter how three criminals were apprehended? The end game was the same.

“I'm just happy you're using your bullshitting skills for good instead of evil,” Rick said, when she expressed her concern, for the hundredth time, about fibbing to the police. “You could have turned Alvin in.”

“You know I can't do that.” Why remained a mystery. He'd once manhandled her, Jess, and Summer by throwing them off the team bus. He'd been hired to kill her. Yet she still protected him. Again, why? “He helped us bring down a gang of thieves. Doesn't that deserve a little loyalty?”

“The guy is an admitted criminal with warrants and an admitted would-be assassin. As a sworn member of law enforcement, it's my duty to see him locked up.”

“I can hear you, you know,” Alvin announced from the backseat. Sweet'ums yipped.

“You wouldn't,” Taryn said. She glared.

“If not for those damned-good chocolate chip pancakes he made this morning, I might have,” Rick said. “I still think he's a danger to you and to society as a whole. Say the word and I'll get him and Brinkman matching prison jumpsuits.”

“Again, still listening.”

Taryn pushed open her door and climbed out. She caught Rick's eyes over the roof of the car. “This is my call. If you trust me, you'll leave this alone.”

While she waited, he shrugged. “Okay, but if I ever suspect he's become a danger to you, I'll see his ass put in jail.”

“Once again . . . Oh, never mind,” Alvin said and collected the dog off the seat. He climbed out of the car.

The office was quiet when Taryn and Rick walked in with Alvin and the dog in tow. Gretchen gasped at the sight of Alvin and Sweet'ums, but recovered quickly when the dog wagged his pom-pom-tipped tail and snorted a happy doggie snort.

“Aren't you an ugly little monster,” she cooed. “With a face only a mother could love. Yes, you are. Yes, you are.” She took the dog from Taryn and walked off.

The mutt did have a way with women.

“Oh, hell no.” Jess had arrived. “What is he doing here?”

Taryn didn't need to turn around to know who “he” was. But she spun anyway. Jess, in gray sweat pants with one pant leg pulled up over her knee, and Alvin were glaring at each other.

“Alvin has been secretly following me around with my neighbor who he's having sex with. He thinks I need a bodyguard,” Taryn said. “He wouldn't take no for an answer.” Translation: She forgot the creaking board on the porch and she and Rick were caught by Alvin while trying to sneak out this morning. “The dog just invited himself.”

“What about Rick?” Jess pressed. She and Alvin locked glares. “I know he's been guarding your body. You don't need that one, too.”

Taryn's cheeks warmed. She pulled Jess aside. “I tried to dissuade him, but he's stubborn. Rather than spend the morning arguing, I let him tag along this one time. If Honey's sons shoot at us, I only have to outrun him, or stand behind him, to survive. It's a win-win.”

“I can't believe you're letting him stay with you. What if he suffocates you with a pillow or burns down your house? You don't know what he's capable of. He was supposed to kill you.”

“Jess,” she warned. “I'm not having this argument again. Let it go.”

Scowling, Jess hobbled off. Taryn knew the argument wasn't over. Although her friends cared about her safety, they couldn't rule her life. As far as she was concerned, Alvin was a closed topic, as long as he behaved.

Summer texted her. Taryn turned to Alvin. “Wait here.”

Rick followed her back to Summer's office. “What's up?”

Summer pulled off a sticky note and held it out. “You got a hit online. A man wants to meet with you. Carl Evans. He sent a private message to the ‘Where's Honey' Facebook site. He says he knows Honey.”

“Did he say how?” Rick asked.

“No, he just said that he knew her.”

After all the dead-end leads and dates to nowhere, it was the ‘Where's Honey' site that got a hit? Knowing more about Honey was a good thing, but Taryn didn't get excited. There were too many ways this could be another flop.

“I guess we should check it out.” Taryn took a sip out of Summer's coffee cup. “We don't have anything else.”

Taryn set up the meeting at a local café. Rick wired her for sound and sat at the counter. At Taryn's insistence, Alvin waited in the car with the dog. His presence alone would likely scare off Carl—and all of the other patrons.

Ten. Fifteen. Twenty minutes past the meeting time. Taryn wondered if the contact was a hoax. Then at ten twenty-three, a thin man of medium height with lanky black hair brushed back from his face stopped just inside the glass doors and looked around. Spotting Taryn, who'd texted him a description of herself, he headed for her table.

His shuffling gait and lined face put him somewhere in his sixties. She suspected he was younger, though, closer to Honey's age. His worn blue pants and matching shirt pegged him as a working man, and the smell of cigarettes and phlegmy cough left little doubt that he probably wouldn't live to be seventy.

He took the seat across from her. “Carl.”

She took his hand. “Taryn. I'm a PI.”

Carl coughed into his sleeve. Recovering, he got right to it. “You're looking for Honey for a case?”

“I am. She may be the victim of a scam.”

For a long moment, he stared, his pale blue eyes confused. Then he leaned forward and flashed a set of crooked, nicotine-stained teeth, before breaking into rattling laughter, coughed again, then settled back with a low chuckle. “Sweetheart, if Honey is involved in a scam, she's not the victim but the perpetrator.”

“E
xplain,” Taryn ordered. She didn't hide her surprise.

“First, why are you looking for her?”

There was no point lying. If this man knew Honey and wanted to help, she might as well tell the truth. “We think she married a con man and may be in danger.”

He gave a low whistle. “I need caffeine.”

Carl called for the waitress and ordered a large coffee with a shot of espresso. While Taryn waited impatiently for him to be served, she glanced over at Rick. His posture was casual. His eyes were not. He was just as puzzled by this turn of events as she was.

Honey a crook?

After Carl was settled with his coffee, he began, “Now don't get me wrong here, Honey is a good woman. She's made some mistakes in her life. If anything bad has happened to her, it'll partially be my fault.”

“How so?”

“Them boys of hers are mine.”

What? Taryn tented her fingers in front of her mouth in surprise. “You're their father? Why isn't their last name Evans?”

Carl chuckled. “Well, there weren't no DNA test, but she says so, and I take her word.” He began a long-winded tale of teen pregnancy, marriage, and a move to Las Vegas that started Honey's slide into the dark side. “I was an alcoholic and couldn't keep a job. With two kids by then, she turned to stripping to feed us all. Then came the shoplifting and writing bad checks. Now I ain't saying that I'm at fault for all of that, but I wasn't much help to her either. Eventually she kicked me out and took up with a guy who owned a car dealership.

A weary expression followed. “I wasn't a good father. I think that's why they took her maiden name.”

Like getting hit in the face by a Mack truck, Taryn hadn't seen any of this coming. However, that was history.

Inasmuch as the life of Honey Comstock was a fascinating tale, she didn't have time to go through about thirty years of needless stuff to get current.

“What can you tell me about Honey over the last couple of years?” she pressed. “We need to find her ASAP.”

He chugged down the last of his coffee. “I know she'd given up stripping, became a secretary, and then married some guy and moved back to Michigan. Joey and Ronnie kept in touch, so that's how I know. She was widowed shortly after, when her husband crashed his car. The boys said she received some money from her husband's insurance so she didn't need to work.”

A spotty work history and maybe a couple of aliases could explain why Summer couldn't find much about her.

“I'd thought about looking her up when she was still in Vegas. I've been sober for seventeen years now and thought maybe she'd take me back. Then she ran off and married that dead guy.”

Taryn thought it unlikely Honey would see Carl as a prize worth revisiting, but who was she to crush his dreams? “The insurance would be enough to tweak Brinkman's interest,” she said into the mike in her bra. Rick nodded.

“Who are you talking to?” Carl asked.

“Myself. It helps me think.” She tapped her fingers on the tabletop. “Do you know where Honey could be now? Did your boys give you any information about her new husband?”

“Other than that they thought he was an ass, no.”

“Are you still in contact with Joey and Ronnie?” This was the best lead so far. If anyone knew her movements, it would be her gun-toting sons.

She might actually crack this case.

“Not for the last four weeks or so.” Carl played with his cup. “Ronnie said there was trouble with the marriage and then the three of them fell off the grid.”

Shoot. “Okay. Let's start again from another angle. You said Honey is from Michigan. Does she have family she'd go to if she was in trouble?”

He shook his head. “Her mama ran off when she was little and her pa died about five years ago. Her sister lives in Iowa, but they had a big fight and haven't spoken in probably twenty years. Lauraleen is one judgmental woman.”

“What about aunts, uncles, cousins?” Taryn continued. He shook his head. “Friends from childhood?”

“Nope. She cut all ties when we ran off to Vegas.”

She dropped her head into her hands. “You have to give me something, Carl. Honey couldn't just vanish.”

Silence fell. The theme for
Jeopardy
went through her head as Carl racked his atrophied brain for clues, or at least that's what she hoped he was doing. He could be thinking about Honey's sizeable chest. Who knew? He still wanted his wife back.

“Did you check that house she inherited from the dead husband?”

Taryn's head popped up. “What house?”

He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and put it unlit between his teeth. The waitress walked past and frowned.

“Joey said her husband left her a life insurance policy in his will, a white Mustang, and a house somewhere out in Irish Hills. The rest of his money went to charity. He didn't have no kids.”

Before he finished, Taryn was already texting Summer.

“Look, I've gotta get back to work. My lunch break is over.” He stood and reached into his breast pocket for a crumpled pack of smokes, realized he already had one, and tucked them back in. “If you find Honey, can you tell her to call me?”

“I will.” She meant it. If this tip about the house cracked the case, she'd willingly play matchmaker. “Thanks, Carl.”

He nodded and shuffled off. Rick pushed back his tall stool. Before he could get up, a figure blocked him from her sight and dropped into Carl's vacated chair.

“Hello, Taryn.”

* * *

There had been times over the last few years, usually after a few cocktails with her friends, when Taryn had secretly wished that the sight of Tim in bed with Gloria, and their subsequent divorce, had all been a bad dream from which she'd awaken and be happily married again. He'd been her first love, after all. That was hard to give up. But to see him now, slightly mussed up, with circles under his eyes, and tight lines around his mouth, made her realize that she really was over him after all.

Huh. That wasn't just a lie she'd told herself, and others, to appease her friends. She really, really was over him.

“Tim, what are you doing here?” She glanced at Rick. He didn't look pleased. “How did you find me?”

“I came to see you.” He ignored the second question and unleashed his boyish grin. Instead of endearing, it annoyed her. “You wouldn't take my calls.”

“You had sex with our maid. Why would I talk to you?”

“Because a love like ours should transcend one little foolish mistake and we should be together?” He ran a hand through his hair. Tim looked a little bit like a young Harrison Ford and he used it to his advantage. He'd been a player in college. A red flag she hadn't wanted to see. He was so loving and attentive in the beginning, and so cute that she'd believed all his bullshit. Not anymore.

“You followed me here. Have you been spying on the house, too?” She lowered her voice and hissed, “What in the hell is wrong with you? Did you break in last week?”

“What? No!” Several customers looked up from their phones. He blinked and lowered his voice. “I may have driven by a couple of times. I had to see you. But your tenant scared me off. He looks like an escapee from a Russian gulag. Is renting to him a good idea?”

They were not getting off track. She crossed her arms, more to keep him from staring at her chest than to show her displeasure. “What do you want, Tim?”

“Um, okay. I'll be blunt.” The boyish grin returned. “I miss you and I want you back.”

“No.”

“Come on, Taryn.” He reached for her hand. She pulled it away. “I made a mistake and corrected it. I sent Gloria packing. We can be together forever like we planned.”

Now she was really mad. “Funny, when I ran into Gloria and her boy toy a few days ago, she said she left you.”

A flush crept into his face. “Does it really matter who left who? Her departure made me realize what a jerk I was. You and I are meant to be to be Dr. and Mrs. Applewhite. Always.”

The worst part of this whole thing—other than that she'd once been Mrs. Taryn Applewhite—was that Rick was listening to every word and scowling. How blinded she had been to marry Tim when she was barely out of her teens, against the advice of, well, everyone. How had she expected the marriage to work?

Oh, right. She'd thought her love would save him.

It clearly hadn't worked. He was still trying to play her.

Not this time. “Tim. Listen and pay attention because this is the last conversation we will ever have. I will never, ever, ever, take you back. Not ever. I don't love you anymore. You hurt me and that can never be forgiven.” She pushed back her chair and stood. “If I see you again, I will shoot you. Got it?”

Not waiting for his answer, she left the café. By the time she reached the Olds, she was shaking.

Rick joined her. “Are you okay?” He touched her arm. She stepped out of reach. He let her go.

“I'm fine. I'm just feeling foolish. I told you I was a bad judge of men, and I was right. Tim proves that.”

“You can't blame yourself for one failure. He screwed you over. ”

She knew he was trying to help, but she was too angry to accept the attempt. Somewhere during the last three years, she'd gone through the stages of grieving and realized she'd overlooked the ticked-off stage. Well, she was in it now.

“I chose him. Do you know that my father wanted me to walk away from the wedding? He thought I was too young and Tim too slick. But I held my ground. I didn't want to see that Tim was a jerk beneath his sweet and polished exterior.”

Rick went silent while she closed in on herself as he watched. Despite his assurances, she was a bad judge of men. One of her dates after Tim had tried to lift her wallet out of her purse, and another had wanted her to be a baby surrogate for him and his husband. Was she so sure about Rick?

Slowly, he nodded as his jaw muscle pulsed. “And now you are rethinking me,” he stated bluntly.

This would be the time to assure him that she wasn't thinking that he'd eventually turn into a cheating jerk. But what did she know about him, really? He could have six wives and ten children scattered across America, be a cootie carrier, or collect drain lint. Who knew?

Somehow the words didn't form. At this moment, she didn't know what to think; only that she didn't know Rick well enough to trust him with her heart.

“Great.” He pounded his closed fist on the hood of the car. “Two days as lovers and it's over.”

Her heart pounded painfully in her chest. She wanted to step into his arms and feel his warmth. She wanted to tell him that she'd fallen in love with him, despite only knowing him for a few days. However, that would be an unmitigated disaster. He'd probably awkwardly pat her on the back, thank her, then run for his bike and tear off for the California sunset.

Instead, she fought the burn in the back of her eyes and steeled herself. “It's for the best. You live in L.A., I live here. We both know that this won't last. Why don't we cut it off now and avoid an awkward and tearful good-bye later.”

“Shit.” He scrubbed his hands over his head then lifted his eyes to her. There were so many emotions there. Most of all anger, and then acceptance. He wouldn't fight for her. “Fine. We're done.”

Since he'd readily agreed with her to end things before they got in too deep, why did she feel so bad?