Blind Faith (21 page)

"What he told me is none of your business. But since you seem determined to make it your business, you can relax.
Syd
has been the perfect gentleman. Now will you leave?"

"Not until you and Casanova do."

"God, you're exasperating!" They were beginning to attract attention.

Kelly spun around and marched back to her table.

Syd
was livid and already on his feet. "That man needs to be taught a lesson."

Kelly stopped him. "No,
Syd
. We'll just leave."

"Then we'll go somewhere else."

"No."

"I'm not going to let him ruin our evening."

"It's already ruined." She grabbed his sleeve and gave a tug. "Come on, let's not make a scene." As she led the way toward the door, she stayed between
Syd
and the bar. She wouldn't put it past either man to provoke the other. But while she was signaling the coat-check girl for their coats,
Syd
pushed her aside and headed straight for Nick.

Visions of tomorrow's headlines flashed in front of Kelly's eyes: Casino Tycoon
And Hot-Tempered Cop In
Bar Brawl. She ran after
Syd
, but she wasn't fast enough. He had already reached Nick.

"I warned you once,
Mcbride
."
Syd's
voice was low and menacing. "This time you're going to find out that you're way over your head."

Nick climbed down from his stool. He towered over
Syd
by nearly a full head. "Are you trying to intimidate an officer of the law?"

"And what would you do if I did?"
Syd
laughed. "Cuff me? Or hit me maybe?"

"Don't tempt me, pal. I've got a short fuse."

"Go ahead, flatfoot,
hit
me."
Syd
took a step forward, his chin
defiant,
his whole demeanor so insulting Kelly wondered how Nick managed to keep his cool.

"
Syd
, please."
Kelly pulled his sleeve again. "Let's go."

Syd
wasn't listening. "Go ahead," he taunted. "Do it. Maybe a big fat lawsuit charging you with police brutality is just what you need to get you out of my face."

"I wouldn't dirty my hands on a sleaze like you. Get out of here, Webber, before you give this fine restaurant a bad name."

Terrified at the look of dark fury on
Syd's
face, Kelly grabbed his arm.

"I have our coats. Let's go."

But
Syd
had to have the last word. "You're nothing,
Mcbride
, you hear me?" he said between clenched teeth.
"Nothing.
I can crush you like a bug. All I have to do is give the word."

Only then did he allow Kelly to pull him away.

Twenty-Five.

Jack in her living room, Kelly took off her coat and threw it on the sofa along with her purse. If she hadn't been so concerned about not making a scene at the restaurant, she would have wrung Nick's neck.

What in the world had possessed him? Sure, he hated
Syd
with a passion and suspected him of having killed his father, but to follow them into a restaurant and watch them from the bar? What was that all about?

Reaching behind her head, she pulled out the pins that held her knot in place and shook her hair loose. If she didn't know better, she'd swear he was jealous.

She was scoffing at that thought when she heard the doorbell. "
Mcbride
," she muttered. "If this is you, I swear you're a dead man."

Her heels clicked angrily on the hardwood floor as she marched to the door. "Yes?" she said without opening it.

She refused to let Nick's apologetic tone sway her. "If you do, I'll probably kill you. Since I have no intention of spending the rest of my life behind bars, the answer is no, you can't come in."

"What I did was stupid. Give me a chance to apologize."

"You just did. Good night. Nick."

She left him standing there, talking to the door. In the kitchen, she debated over making herself a sandwich. But thanks to Nick, not only had her dinner been ruined, so had her appetite. Oh well, it wouldn't be the first time she went to bed on an empty stomach. She flipped off the lights and headed upstairs.

Nick was still at the door when she walked by, alternating between knocking and ringing the bell. She ignored him. The temperature had dropped to a very uncomfortable seventeen degrees. He'd go away soon enough.

In the cozy comfort of her bedroom, her irritation began to ebb.

Tomorrow, when she was calmer, she would talk to Nick. His sister, though Kelly had never met her, was right. Nick was obsessed with
Syd
Web-
her ,
and sooner or later this obsession would get him in serious trouble. It almost had last year, but apparently he hadn't learned his lesson.

Stifling a yawn, she undressed, took a pair of clean pajamas from her dresser drawer and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. As she brushed her teeth, she thought of
Victoria
and Phoebe safely tucked into the Sanders' house and of her Uncle Gino who must have landed by now.

The people she loved were safe.

She was safe.
Or would be, as soon as that maniac downstairs gave up and went home.

With that thought in mind, she walked back into her bedroom, yawning.

The big four-poster bed, with its puffy white duvet and fluffy pillows, looked warm and inviting, but instead of climbing into it, she walked over to the window, which overlooked the street. Please, God, she prayed, don't let him still be there.

He was. He sat on the stoop, gazing into the night, the collar of his suit jacket pulled up against the bitter wind. The fool hadn't even had the common sense to wear a coat.

Furious, she threw on a robe and pounded down the stairs. "All right," she said after opening the door. "You win. Come in."

This time he was the one who led the way to the living room, rubbing his

hands
to warm them. She hadn't planned on a confrontation at this time

of
night, but since he was here she might as well get it over. "Are you

totally
insane? Following me into a restaurant full of people, making a

scene--
"

His gaze stopped on the roses on the coffee table but he didn't comment

on
them. "I didn't make a scene. I was minding my own business, having a

beer--
"

"Bull. You were doing anything but minding your own business. You followed us. Why? What were you hoping to accomplish?"

"What about you? What were you thinking, going out with him?"

"
Syd
showed up at my door and invited me out to dinner. I accepted.

What's so wrong with that?"

"It's stupid. He's using you, Kelly. He wants to pump you about the investigation."

"Don't turn everything I say into an insult. You looked gorgeous tonight and you know it. So did Webber, but your good looks aren't the reason he's interested in you."

"I'm thirty-five years old." How often did she have to remind people of that? "Can't you trust me to know the difference between a man who is genuinely attracted to me and one who is using me?"

Something in his eyes changed. Before she could decide what that was
,
he grabbed hold of her shoulders, yanked her to him and crushed his mouth on hers.

For an instant, only an instant, she was too stunned to react. Then, as his mouth plundered hers, she felt hers opening, responding. Her arms coiled around his neck, her body, either by instinct or need, leaned into his. Every nerve in her body, every cell, seemed poised, ready to burst. She couldn't think or reason. She could only feel.
So many sensations--heat, need, pleasure.
She knew now why none of her relationships had worked. No one had ever kissed her with such passion before.

She didn't know how long the kiss lasted, or who let go of whom first.

She was aware of being suddenly released and, as she lost her balance, of being steadied by two strong hands.

She cleared her throat, determined not to let him see how deeply that kiss had affected her. "Well, are you glad you got that out of your system? You feel better now?"

"Yes.
Because now you do know the difference between being wanted and being used."
He started to turn away.

"Wait!" The word was out before she could stop it. She didn't want him to leave, not like this. Had he said wanted? Did he really want her?

Or had he just been trying to make a point? She wasn't ready to hear the answer to that question.

He turned, his gaze questioning.

"Something happened today, didn't it?" she asked quietly. "That's why you came looking for me in the first place.

"Webber didn't tell you?" Nick's tone had an edge to it.

"No. This may come as a shock to you, but your name never even came up.

That is," she added, "until I saw you hiding behind the potted palm."

"I wasn't hiding."

She sat down. "Did something happen?"

He nodded.

She felt herself softening. For a tough guy, there were moments when he didn't look so tough. This was one of those moments. "You want to tell me about it? You might as well," she added with a smile as she settled onto the sofa. "I'm wide awake now."

Elbows on her knees, her chin resting on her fists, she listened while he told her about his father's friend, Joe
Massino
, the conversation they'd had earlier and the discovery that the
Chenonceau's
new chief of security was living well above his means.

"I don't know. Nick," she said when he was finished.
' "
Just because Joe moved his family to a better neighborhood doesn't mean he was bought."

"He could never afford what he has now on his salary. Even with his pension added to it."

"Maybe he won the lottery."

"He didn't."

"But how could he spend that kind of money and not send a signal to the IRS?"

"There are ways. Webber could have arranged to give him a personal loan with the understanding that Joe would pay him back in monthly installments, except he's not paying him back. Or Webber could give him the money in the form of a bonus."

"All right, let's suppose that your friend Joe does have something on his boss. Why would
Syd
pay him off? Why not have him killed, the way he did your father, if indeed that's what happened."

"Because he couldn't afford to have two casino employees, both working in security, die of a suspicious death."

"But letting him live is just as risky. What if Joe had turned him in instead of taking his money?"

Nick couldn't stand still. He jumped up and paced up and down the small space. "You forget that Web-
her
is an excellent judge of character. He knew my father couldn't be bought but Joe could."

"I can't yet, but there's more." He reached into his breast pocket and took out a thick business-size envelope. He handed it to her. "Take a look at this."

"That background check on Magdalena Montoya."

Holding the document so the table lamp shone on it, Kelly read the three-page report. Much of it corroborated what
Magdalena
had told them about herself. What came as a surprise, however, was the information about
Magdalena
's brother and his ties to
Syd
Webber.

When she was finished reading, Kelly looked up. "
Magdalena
's brother killed a man?"

"He not only killed a man, he escaped so quickly the
cops
figure he had to have had help."

She glanced at the last page again. "And you think that help came from
Syd
Webber? Is that it?"

"That's a very strong possibility. They knew each other, and Webber had the connections. He could have gotten Enrique a new identity within forty-eight hours."

"Maybe we should put that question to Enrique."

"You have to find him first. Unless ..." Her eyes narrowed. "You already know where he is."

"I have a hunch."

"Where."

He stopped pacing.
"Where it all began--
Miami
."

Kelly shook her head. "The
Las Vegas
police must have combed that city from one end to the other. If they didn't find him, what makes you think you will?"

He leaned over and tweaked her nose. "Come on,
Robolo
. Show a little faith, will you?"

She understood now why he was so good at his job. It was the passion he brought into it, the excitement he generated as he faced a new challenge. She had no idea what his plans were, or if he would succeed.

For all she knew, this obsession of his could prove to be his downfall.

He didn't seem to care. And at this moment, neither did she.

He was smiling as though he knew exactly what she was thinking. "What do you say,
Robolo
? Will you help me catch a killer?"

Twenty-Six.

At first Kelly thought she was dreaming. But as she opened her eyes, the sounds she thought were from her subconscious became more distinct.

Someone was outside her house, in the garden.

Wide awake now, she lay very still, holding her breath.
Nothing.
Could she have imagined it? Then she heard it again, the unmistakable sound of gravel crunching beneath slow, careful footsteps.

She tossed aside the duvet and got out of bed, throwing on a robe as she ran down the stairs. By the time she reached the sliding glass door in the living room, the sounds had stopped again. With a steady hand, she took a corner of the heavy rose-colored draperies and lifted it slightly. A three-quarter moon cast a pale light on her garden, which could easily be accessed from the street.

And then she saw it, an indistinct figure in a bulky parka, bent over and moving furtively around the small space. A furry hood concealed the hair, so she couldn't see if the intruder was a man or a woman. Nor could she tell what he or she was doing.

Kelly didn't take time to think about the possibilities. In a single motion, she reached for the burglar alarm panel near the window and hit the panic button.

A loud siren tore through the air and the outside floodlights seemed to explode over the little patch of green.

The intruder spun around, looking like a trapped animal. It wasn't until the hood slipped
off,
exposing shoulder-length brown hair, that Kelly realized her late-night visitor was a woman. Kelly threw the sliding door open and lunged, throwing her arms around the woman and wrestling her to the ground. "Who are you?" she asked, straddling her.

She had to shout over the strident sound of the siren. "What are you doing on my property?" To her surprise, the woman didn't put up a fight.
 
Or try to escape. Instead, she turned her head away from the blinding lights and sobbed helplessly.

Taken aback, Kelly
un
straddled her but stayed crouched beside her in case she tried to make a run for it. "Who are you?" she repeated.

The woman continued to cry. "Come on." Kelly helped her to a sitting position, propping her against the stone wall that separated Kelly's garden from her neighbor's. Still sobbing, the woman glanced apprehensively toward a rhododendron bush.

Kelly followed her gaze. "What the ..." A red can, the kind used to store gasoline for a lawn mower, stood beside the bush, the cap still on. Scattered throughout the garden were a half-dozen rags.

The woman had tried to set fire to her garden.

The compassion Kelly had felt for her a moment ago vanished. "You tried

to
burn my house? Why? What have I done to
--
"

When the woman looked up, Kelly stopped abruptly and sat down on the gravel, hard. She didn't have to ask any more questions. She knew who the woman was and why she was here. "You're Nicole Santos."

Nicole Santos was the wife of one of the men arrested in the
Chinatown
protection racket a few weeks ago.
Shortly after the indictment.

Channel 10 had interviewed Nicole from the couple's
Roxborough
home.

Unlike
Matias's
wife, who had refused to talk to the press, Nicole had been quite vocal, especially about Kelly whom she claimed had destroyed her life by taking away the father of her unborn baby.

"You'll pay," she had screamed at the camera. "You'll burn in hell for what you've done to my Miguel."

"It was you," Kelly said. "The threatening notes, the vandalism to my house and to my car. That was all your doing."

In the distance, a police siren began to wail, grew louder, then stopped as a cruiser screeched to a halt in front of the house and two officers spilled out of the car, their guns drawn. "What's going on in here?