Undercover Love (The Women of Manatee Bay, Book 2) (3 page)

“Both.” Her chin lifted. “I know I’m not supposed to be touching officers—”

“You’re lucky I didn’t haul you in,” he interrupted. Not that he’d actually arrest her, but she needed some scare lit into her. “Try to control that temper.”

Lips pressing together, she offered him a fake smile. “Okay.” She turned to leave but he reached out and snagged the corner of her flouncy, see-through sleeve.

“I talked with Mrs. Owens this morning.”

“Oh?” She shot him an innocent look.

Right. He knew better. He fixed her with a straight-on stare. “She said if she’d known you were going in at night she would’ve made sure the alarm was set for later.”

Rachel’s face didn’t seem to know whether to turn red or white. It blotched.

Busted.

CHAPTER THREE

Timing was everything.

How many times had Rachel heard that cliché? Two days later and she still couldn’t get over her stupidity in entering Mayor Owens’ house at night. Clenching the wheel, she maneuvered her SUV into the Pizza Place parking lot and pulled next to Katrina’s BMW.

If she’d gone during the day, according to Mrs. Owens’ advice, then everything would’ve been fine. She wouldn't have had to listen to a lecture from Officer Grant Harkness. Because that had been just
so
fun. But no, she'd given into a spontaneous urge to press her luck.

Her phone rang as she was unbuckling.

“Mrs. Owens?” Rachel cradled the phone against her shoulder and glanced at her watch. Katrina was waiting inside for her already, but she had to get this call out of the way.

“Did you get it?” Mrs. Owens’ voice, which usually reminded her of a Yorkie’s yipping, vibrated through the receiver hushed and low.

“The other night.”

“I told you specifically between the hours of three and four.”

“I know. I'm sorry about that.”

“So?”

“I found more than what you wanted. In fact, I’d like to go over things with you—”

“Meet me at the headsprings at four-thirty.” Mrs. Owens’ voice resumed its usual squeaky bossiness. “You bring it and I’ll have your money.”

“One problem. A file is encrypted.”

“We’ll work on that later. I just need the drive.”

“I’ll see you this afternoon then.” Rachel snapped the phone shut and got out of her car. She wished Mrs. Owens cared about the encryption. Slamming the door, Rachel marched across the pavement, grateful for the breeze that feathered through her hair.

April had brought Florida’s typical spring to her small city. Sunlight bloomed hot against her cheeks and when she stepped into the restaurant, she had to stop for a moment so her eyes could adjust. She inhaled the rich scent of baking bread and spicy pizza sauce. Checkered booths and wooden chairs stuffed the Pizza Place. The confined space added to the restaurant’s charm and quaint hospitality.

She strode the narrow aisle toward Katrina, stomach rumbling.

Katrina looked as radiant as the sparkling ring on her finger. The huge diamond glinted beneath the sunlight that streamed through the window beside her. Rachel frowned, remembering Grant's accusation that she'd tried to destroy Alec. Keeping Katrina protected from a potential threat had been Rachel’s only motive in telling her about Alec’s business plans. Katrina deserved love. She didn’t deserve someone who’d hurt her.

And though Rachel had been wrong about Alec and his intentions, she’d do it all over again.

She sat across from Katrina, the booth cushion deflating beneath her in a quiet whoosh. “Sorry, client on the phone.”

“I ordered us a pizza, extra breadsticks.” Katrina smiled, her gray eyes warm.

“Thanks.” Rachel reached for the extra lemons sitting on her plate and dumped them in her sweet tea. She and Katrina tried to meet at least once a week for lunch. She’d been late today but Katrina had already ordered Rachel’s favorite drink. That was Katrina. Kind and generous, sweet to a fault.

She took a big swig of tea before shooting Katrina a broad grin. “So you have your ring?” 

“This morning.” Katrina twisted her hand so her fingers faced Rachel. “One carat.”

“If he was my guy I would’ve asked for five,” Rachel teased.

Katrina chuckled. “Well, I think this is the perfect size.” She changed the subject. “Alec and I are going to the animal shelter tomorrow. Do you want to come?”

“Ugh.” Rachel gulped her tea and looked towards the kitchen. Where was the pizza? Her stomach growled.

“You can’t fool me, Rachel. You love animals.”

“I absolutely do not.” Rachel fiddled with her napkin. “Maybe when I was a kid. Not now. They’re messy and stinky.”

“Oh, please.” Katrina rolled her eyes. “Tomorrow at two.”

Rachel felt a presence beside her. She shifted and took the basket of breadsticks from their waitress. “Thanks, Barb.”

Barb winked. “Pizza’ll be out in just a minute.” As she waddled away, her face never strayed from its wrinkled grin.

Rachel had helped Barb out once, with great results. Her son had narrowly escaped going to jail because of evidence Rachel uncovered. Remembering brought a satisfaction inside that she was exactly where God wanted her in life. Even if it meant being alone.

Or being scolded by a policeman too handsome for his own good.

Because thinking of him made her chest hurt, she forced her eyes to Katrina. “So you and Alec are getting a pet?”

Katrina shrugged. “Not really. He’s thinking of buying the shelter, but first wants a look around to make sure the place is legit.”

“They are.” When Katrina’s eyes rounded, Rachel shrugged. “I’ve been there before.”

“For?”

It was ridiculous to be embarrassed, and yet she was. “I’ve thought about a pet a few times,” she mumbled. Unable to ignore the warm yeast scent any longer, she grabbed a breadstick.

Katrina took a second to react before busting out in full laughter. Rachel scowled as several people near them turned to look. “It’s not funny.”

“Sure it is.” Katrina flashed her a wide grin. “You pretend to be so tough, Miss Jaded PI, but secretly you want a kitten just like Scooter.”

Rachel bit her lip. Was she really harboring some secret longing for a pet like her childhood cat? She eyed Katrina. “For your information, no pet will ever replace Scooter. And I’m not jaded.”

“Cynical, then.”

“Nope. Realistic. I see too much to be convinced people aren’t out for themselves twenty-four seven.” Rachel swirled the lemon in her tea, the edge of her spoon clinking lightly against the sides of her glass. She pulled the spoon out and set it on a napkin.

“Maybe you should volunteer, feel things out a little.”

“I’m not going to volunteer at the shelter just to see how a pet might fit into my life.”

Katrina’s lips quirked but she didn’t say anything.

Rachel was glad Katrina didn’t respond. She knew good works were a staple of the Christian diet, but there was no way she could go into that smelly place and clean litter boxes.

The pizza came and Rachel wolfed it down. She needed to go to her office in Orlando today to check on some videos before calling a different client. Mrs. Harms wouldn’t be too happy to know why her husband came home late every night. A familiar pang hit Rachel. She didn’t like being the bearer of bad news, but someone had to warn the victim. Someone had to deliver the truth, even when it hurt the recipient.

She was reaching for her wallet when Katrina cleared her throat.

Rachel looked up.

“I heard you ran into Grant Harkness the other night.”

“Last time I saw him was at dinner with you.”

“What about the night before?”

The mayor’s house. “I guess you could say we ran into each other.” Rachel tossed some bills on the table.

“He told Alec I should get you under control.”

Her nerves jolted like live wire. “What?”

“Yeah, he said you broke into someone’s house.” Katrina’s expression was questioning, wary. Katrina didn’t like butting into other people’s business. She must be concerned.

Breathing slowly and evenly, Rachel slid her wallet back into her purse. “I didn’t break in. The client gave me a key.”

Katrina squinted.

“Fine.” She jerked her head forward, elbows on the table. “I knew she wasn’t supposed to have a key, but I had to do it. Her husband cheated on her. She paid me to find the proof.” And she wanted to avenge her sister. But that was a secret no one could ever know.

“What if you get hurt? Grant saying something, well…you know. He’s worried.”

Rachel sat back. Katrina’s eyes were round with fear. Grant had done this. He and Alec. They’d scared Katrina over nothing. “Look, it’s personal. He’s not worried. He just doesn’t like me.”

“I don’t think—”

“That’s exactly what it is. Trust me, he pretty much spewed on me when we were there.” Rachel glanced down. No need to let Katrina see the hurt.

“I’m sorry.”

"I guess I’m glad he didn’t say more than that. Maybe cuss me out.” She grabbed her purse, her knuckles white on the strap. “It’s not my problem he’s got anger issues.”

“Actually...you might not have heard, but last month Grant walked up to the altar during church. It seems like he's changing a lot of things in his life now.”

Shock crawled through her, then settled heavy in her belly. “He is?”

Katrina nodded. “Yeah, Alec has been praying a lot with him lately.”

“Oh.” Rachel fiddled with the purse strap. 

“You missed him at church last week because you were out of town. Which reminds me, Alec and I are leaving for New York after we visit the shelter. We’ll be back for your birthday.”

Rachel wrinkled her nose, trying to hide her surprise at Grant’s new direction in life. “Please, celebrating my thirtieth is the last thing I want to do. Don’t come back for me.”

***

Grant pulled into the parking lot of the trailer that served as Manatee Bay’s one and only police station. He switched off the engine, grabbed his phone and trotted to the door. Charlie Barrows better have a good reason for texting him to come in on his morning off. His fellow officer tended to page Grant over minor issues.

Grant unlocked the door to the station, opened it, and flipped on the lights. Charlie  lounged on a ratty recliner the chief kept in a corner of the small trailer. Smoke spiraled toward the ceiling as he puffed away.

Grant knew Charlie was forging through the mental files of his current case. The smoking gave it away.

Grant leaned against the edge of his desk, setting the phone on a pile of paperwork. Reports he needed to turn into the police chief tomorrow. Not that it would matter if it was on time. The chief wasn’t known for being efficient in the office. Or on the streets.

That would change soon enough. Grant shouldn’t feel any guilt over the choices he’d recently made to straighten this police department up, but nevertheless, a deep regret rolled inside him.

He squashed the feeling and focused on Charlie. “What’s up?”

Charlie’s mustache twitched as cigarette smoke plumed slowly toward the ceiling.

“Dude, it smells like a furnace in here. You need to smoke outside.” Thirty years on the force didn’t give Charlie license to stink up the work space. Grant shuffled the papers on his desk, catching sight of the circled date on his calendar. That was a meeting he didn't look forward to.

“I’m onto something.”

Grant stilled, thoughts tripping away from tomorrow’s appointment. “Yeah?”

He knew Charlie’s tone. The older officer might bug Grant with silly stuff, but the man had been a cop long enough to have learned how to go with his gut. And Charlie’s gut was rarely wrong.

Charlie ground the cigarette in the ashtray beside him and stood. “I left my clothes on the bed, my cigs in the sink.” He looked up, the skin beneath his eyes sootier than usual. “She left me, Grant. Just a little note on a table, stained with spilled coffee.”

Grant crossed his arms, frowning. “You text me when I’m off shift to tell me Angel is gone?”

“Had to talk to someone.”

“If you want advice, I’m the wrong guy.” He rubbed the back of his neck. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel for Charlie. The poor man had been besotted by his girlfriend since they’d met at a bar two weeks ago. But Grant didn’t have woman troubles. Women liked him and he liked them. For awhile. Then he moved on. As far as he remembered, no woman had ever left him.

Which made him the worst guy to ask for advice. He shifted against the desk, feeling like he should say something but not knowing what.

Charlie scratched his chin with tobacco-stained fingers. “Forty years of dealing with females and I thought she was different. The one.” When Grant didn’t say anything Charlie let loose a rusty laugh. “Aw, you’re right. Talking to you is like asking a camel if he’s ever felt snow.”

“She’ll come back.” That was helpful, right?

“I don’t know where she is.”

Grant grunted. “Maybe you ought to marry her.” There, that was good advice. The Bible encouraged marriage, right? Sound theology from in Grant's way of thinking. Maybe his mother wouldn’t have given him to the government if she’d had a husband to help raise her little boy.

Charlie shrugged. “Two weeks isn’t long enough for marriage.” His face cleared. “I guess this means I’m free to ask Miss Jane out.”

“I’m going home.” Rolling his eyes, Grant grabbed his phone and walked to the door. “See ya.” He was only too glad to get back out in the fresh air.

“Wait there, son.”

Grant paused at the door. Charlie met him there, keen gaze fixing on him.

“Something’s going down. I can sense it.”

“One of your feelings again?”

“In my bones. There’s crooked people in Manatee Bay.”