Beautiful Storm (Lightning Strikes Book 1) (24 page)

Gently moving Michael's arm off her abdomen, she slid out of the bed and moved toward the open door between their rooms. She walked into her bathroom, smiled at her tousled hair and swollen lips in the mirror and then hopped into the shower.

Thirty minutes later, with her hair blown dry, she wrapped herself in the complimentary hotel bathrobe and moved back into the bedroom to get dressed.

It was then that she noticed the drawers pulled out of the dresser, the closet door open, and the clothes she'd left in the suitcase tumbled on the floor next to it.

Her heart began to beat faster as she gazed around the room. The door to her balcony was ajar. She walked out on to it and realized that there wasn't much space between balconies. It was possible someone could have jumped the low wall between her balcony and the one next to hers.

She moved quickly back into her room and through the adjoining door to Michael's room.

"Wake up," she said, putting her hand on his shoulder.

He blinked in surprise and turned on to his back. "Hey, beautiful. You're up. I thought we could sleep in this morning."

"No, you need to get up."

Her urgent words erased the intimate smile in his eyes. He sat up. "What's wrong?"

"Someone was in my room. My clothes are all over the place and the balcony door was open. Someone came in while we were out yesterday, or—" She stopped abruptly, suddenly wondering if someone had been in her room while she and Michael had been making love. "Oh, my God, they could have been in the room last night while we—"

He jumped out of bed and put his arms around her trembling shoulders. "It's okay, Alicia. You're okay."

His strong arms and reassuring words helped get her feet back under her. "You should take a look. I'm fine, just a little shaken up."

She let go of Michael.

He grabbed his boxers off the floor and pulled them on, then walked into her room.

She followed him inside, watching his gaze sweep the messy room.

"When do you think they came in?" she asked. "We never came in here last night after we got back from my mom's house."

"I don't know." A grim note entered his voice. "I didn't really look at my room. Did you?"

"Not really. I mean, nothing jumped out at me when we walked in the door, but we got distracted pretty quickly."

As she finished speaking, he went back through the adjoining door, and she followed him. He opened the closet door, and she peered over his shoulder to see his suitcase upended, his clothes on the ground.

"They were here, too," he said, closing the door and looking around the room.

One of the dresser drawers was half-open, but there wasn't anything else in the room that looked askew.

"What would someone be looking for? Do you think it was just a random search for money or jewelry?" she asked.

"I doubt it. It doesn't feel random. Someone was probably looking for whatever we're looking for—evidence related to the case, or Liliana, or something." He glanced back at her. "I think whoever broke in here did so while we were out yesterday."

She looked at his balcony door. "Was it open last night when you went out there?"

"I don't remember. But if they came through your balcony, we had the adjoining doors open."

She felt marginally better with the idea that the break-in had occurred when they were out of the hotel and not while they were sleeping. "We should call the front desk."

"Yes, but I don't think we're going to get too far. Is anything of yours missing?"

"I don't think so. I didn't bring much with me, and I had my purse with me the whole time." Her gaze drifted over to the bedside table. "The red light is lit on your phone. You have a message. I didn't notice that last night, either."

He frowned and walked over to the phone. He picked up the receiver, pushed the button and listened for a moment. Straightening, he looked at her with a far more energized gleam in his eyes. "There's a package for me at the front desk. Let's get dressed. In fact, why don't you pack up your suitcase? I don't think we should stay here another night."

"Where will we go?"

"We'll figure that out later."

"Okay."

He gave her an apologetic smile. "Alicia, this isn't exactly how I saw the morning going. I had a lot of other ideas, all of them starting with waking up to you in my bed."

"I know. We got off track last night."

"Wonderfully off track," he agreed. "You don't have regrets, do you?"

"No," she said, seeing the question in his eyes. "I had a good time."

"It was better than good," he said, giving her a quick kiss. "I'm going to jump in the shower. I'd invite you, but then we'll never get out of this room."

She smiled. "Go."

* * *

Two hours later, they'd reported the break-in to hotel security, waited while the head of security went through their room, then checked out and retrieved a thick envelope from the front desk, which they took to a café.

Before digging into the file they ordered coffee and breakfast, mutually deciding they'd start off on a better note if they ate first.

After a delicious vegetable omelet, Alicia sat back in her seat, feeling more ready to take on the day.

Michael popped the last piece of bacon into his mouth and gave her a smile that was quickly becoming a usual occurrence. She preferred it so much more to the frown he'd worn their first few days together. She wanted to believe that she was responsible for the change in his mood, especially after last night.

"What are you thinking about, Alicia?" he asked, his gaze searching her face.

"That I like your smile, and I'm getting to see it more often now," she said honestly.

"That's in large part due to your presence. I'm starting to feel more like myself again."

"I'm glad, Michael."

"Not that we've solved anything yet, but taking action has been a lot better than standing still." He picked up the envelope from the seat beside him. "Ready to dig in?"

"I think they might want our table. There's a line. Why don't we go somewhere else?"

"Where did you have in mind?"

She thought for a moment. "There's a park not far from here. I used to go there all the time with my dad. They have lots of picnic tables and since it's…" She paused to check her watch. "Just after ten o'clock on a Tuesday morning, I doubt there will be anyone else there."

"Sounds good." He grabbed the check. "Looks like we pay up front."

She slid out of the booth and followed him up to the cash register. While Michael was paying the bill, she wandered out to the parking lot. Her gaze caught on a man sitting in a car in front of the café. For a split second, she thought he was looking at her. Then he pulled out his phone and made a call.

"Ready?" Michael asked.

"Uh, sure."

"What's wrong?"

"That guy in the silver Honda," she said as they walked toward their rental car. "I thought he was looking at me. But he's just making a call. I'm getting paranoid."

Michael glanced over his shoulder. "Considering what just happened at our hotel, I don't think you're paranoid. Maybe I should talk to him."

"No, don't," she said, instinctively putting a hand on his arm. "Wait, look. He's leaving."

The man had set down his phone and was backing out of the space.

"It was nothing," she added.

"Well, we'll keep an eye out," Michael said, a hard note in his voice. He put an arm around her shoulder as they walked to the car.

She liked his arm around her—a little too much, she thought. She was used to being independent and on her own, but it was nice to have a protective man by her side for a change.

After getting in the car, they drove toward the park, which was only a few miles away. She'd always liked coming to this particular park because it had a large pond with lots of ducks, a huge play area with ladders and tunnels and slides, and even a climbing wall, which had been one of her favorite things to do. It also had several picnic areas where they'd celebrated more than a few birthdays.

"It's quiet here," Michael commented as he parked in the lot. There were a couple of other cars, one of which probably belonged to an older couple who were strolling the path toward the pond.

"It's busier on the weekends."

"So you used to come here a lot as a kid?" he asked as they got out of the car.

"All the time. It seemed like every other weekend someone in the neighborhood was celebrating their birthday here, and I had at least three parties with all my classmates in this park."

He smiled. "What were you like as a little kid?"

"I was active. I liked to play sports, chase balls and climb trees. I used to follow Jake and his friends around, which they hated. I would have followed Danielle, but she was better at ditching me, and frankly, I wasn't that interested in whatever she was doing." She paused. "Let's go to the picnic area. We can spread out at a table and dig into whatever Lieutenant Hodges has sent us."

"Good idea."

She sat down on one side of a table while Michael took the opposite bench. As he sat down, her gaze swept the area, her nerves still on edge after the break-in at the hotel and the man she'd seen in the parking lot. The deserted area should have made her feel safer, but instead it reminded her that they were alone, possibly being watched at this very moment.

Michael suddenly got up and came around the table. He straddled the bench so he was facing her. She turned toward him, and he put his hands on her shoulders, kneading her tight, tense muscles. "If this is too much, Alicia, we can go back to Miami right now."

It was a tempting offer, but she couldn't take it. "No. If someone searched our rooms, then we must be on to something, right?"

"Probably."

"Maybe it was Detective Kellerman sending someone to check out what we were doing."

"I don't think he'd send someone to search our hotel on the sly. He would have just had the police here in town come and talk to us."

"But he knows we're here, and the only way he could know that is if he's following you or watching your movements."

"Don't worry about him, Alicia. He's not going to harm us."

"I know, but someone else might. Who else knows we're here?"

"Well, Lieutenant Hodges and anyone else at JAG that she might have spoken to, your mom and brother."

"And Mrs. Barrett, but she was so out of it, she might not even remember I was there." She frowned. "We have both a short list and a long list, because we don’t know who Lieutenant Hodges talked to about our meeting."

"Maybe you should go home, Alicia. This has never been your fight and I don't want anything to happen to you. I promised your mother I would make sure that you were safe, and I don't want to break that promise."

"I can take care of myself. I've been doing it for a long time."

"That doesn't mean your family doesn't worry about you, or that I don't worry about you. I've put you in the middle of a bad situation." Guilt flittered through his gaze. "I knew I was doing it, but I was so happy to have someone on my side, I didn't want to look too closely at how involved you were getting."

"Stop. I put myself in the middle of this, Michael. I saw the lightning. I found the tag. I went to the police. And I went back to the park and met you. Everything I've done has been my decision."

"But things are changing. After what happened last night, maybe you should reconsider your involvement. I'm okay with you calling it quits. I wouldn't think less of you, Alicia."

"I'm not a quitter. I don't give up. It's not what Monroes do."

He smiled. "Is that your father or your mother you're quoting?"

She was about to say it was her dad, then realized, somewhat surprisingly, that those words had usually come from her mother's mouth. "I was thinking it was my dad, but it was my mom. She used to buck us up when Dad was deployed for months at a time. We'd get discouraged or be unhappy because we were missing him, and we wouldn't want to do stuff, because he wasn't going to be there; he wasn't going to see us play soccer or perform in the school play. Mom would say that Monroes were not quitters and when things got difficult, we just needed to try harder. It's weird—I don't think I remembered that until just now."

"Coming home can illuminate memories that got twisted over time."

"Did that happen to you in Miami?"

"A little. I'm starting to see that painting my dad as an uncaring, coldhearted father might have been a little extreme."

She met his gaze. "How could anyone who cooks with so much heat be coldhearted?"

"I think it was easier to deal with his rejection when I thought of him as a monster. Turns out, he really wasn't that at all. But we were talking about you. Your recollections of your mother are softening it seems. What about your father?"

"I don't know that I would ever change the way I feel about him. Obviously, I can't talk to him again or rewrite history. He's frozen in time. My mom can change and our relationship can get better or worse, but the way I think of my dad is always going to be the same. I just wish I knew what had happened to him in the final minutes of his life. I hate that I'll never know if he was scared, if he had any warning, if he had any thought that we would rescue him."

"You'll make yourself crazy if you go down that road too many times."

"I've already worn out the soles of my shoes going down that road. I know I have to accept that I'll just never know, that it was a tragic accident, that there are no explanations. I'm just not there yet."

He nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Do you want to take a walk?"

"No, we have to get to work."

"Let's walk around the pond. Clear our heads. I missed my run this morning."

She got to her feet as he stood up and when he extended his hand, she took it. "Do you run a lot?"

"Five to six times a week."

"That's almost every day."

"It keeps me from overheating," he said with a smile. "Some days the job can be one problem after another, subcontractors not showing up, someone putting a wall where it's not supposed to go, a delay in getting a permit. I have to run a sizeable team and when the team doesn't work well, I've found that I get better results when I'm calm and decisive and not pissed off and stressed out."