Fearless in High Heels (19 page)

“And, you…” Blaise said, spinning toward me.

But I was ready for him.

The second his eyes swung my way, I hit the button on the self-tanner, sending a stream of golden bronze colored chemicals right into his eyes.

Blaise screamed, both hands going to his face.

Dana lunged forward, doing her best kick-boxing move right to his groin.

Which cut his scream unceremoniously short, ending it in a crumpled sort of moan as Blaise doubled over, dropping the gun at his feet.

I quickly scooped it up and leveled it at him, my breath coming in hard pants.

“Don’t you move,” I yelled.  “I am pregnant, I am pissed, and I have to pee.  I
will
shoot you.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Ten minutes later, the foyer of Sebastian’s house was crawling with police officers.  And, oddly enough, my family members.

Apparently, Ramirez had gone home early that night, baring a plate of empanadas courtesy or his mother for yours truly.  Only instead of me he’d found Mom and Mrs. R hard at work baby proofing again, having forgotten to install the wall straps on all of our furniture over three feet tall.  While they strapped, Ramirez had wandered into the bathroom and seen the Fixodent and smoky-eyes make-up out.  Being the brilliant detective he was, he’d put two and two together and quickly surmised that I was once again at Sebastian’s house. 

He, along with Mrs. R and Mom, who had insisted on coming along to make sure her practice grandbaby was okay, had arrived at the party just about the same time Blaise’s gun had gone off.  While no one might have heard the sound of us yelling, my husband knew the sound of a gunshot only too well.  He’d called for backup, then run to the scene.  Or at least as close to the scene as he could get. 

As it turned out, our corridor was actually a secret passage built behind the library in Sebastian’s house, one that Blaise later admitted to finding on a previous party visit.  Ramirez had spent several minutes trying to figure out just where the sounds in the wall were coming from before employing Sebastian’s help to unlock the secret door.  (Which, by the way, was done by pulling out a Bram Stoker book from the bookshelf.  I totally should have looked there first.) 

By the time Ramirez had finally made it to our private party, I had Blaise pinned to the ground with his own gun, Dana was nursing a sprained foot from the force of kicking Blaise’s groin, and Marco was emptying the rest of the can of spray tan on a noticeably warmer colored Blaise.

Ramirez took one look at me and shook his head.  “Oh, Lucy,” he said, wrapping me in a tight embrace as his backup officers took Blaise into custody.

I returned it, only too glad to have the cavalry come to our aid.

“Oh, Maddie!” I heard behind him as my mom and Mrs. R pushed past the officers.  She pounced, grabbing me in a hug so tight I feared she’d pop the baby right out of me.

“Oh, my darling, are you okay?” she said, pulling back to give me a once over.

I moved to nod, then, remembering my headache, thought better of it.  “I’m fine,” I reassured her instead.

“What happened?” Ramirez asked.

So I told him.  Everything from our suspicions about Sebastian all the way to Blaise’s confession and his threats at gunpoint.

“And you threw your purse at him?  As the gun went off?” Ramirez asked, his voice going high.

I nodded slowly.

“Jesus,” he muttered.  “Maddie, you could have been killed.”  If I didn’t know better, I’d say Ramirez’s skin paled a shade. 

“It was pure instinct,” I protested.  “It’s a big bag.  I thought maybe I could duck behind it.”

The three of us looked down at my Santana bag on the ground.  There was a neat, round, bullet hole in the center of it.  I watched as a uniformed officer wearing a pair of latex gloves held it up.  He peeked inside.  Then he pulled out Baby-So-lifelike by its chubby vinyl hand.  Right in the center of the doll’s duckie-covered onesie was a neat, round hole.

Mom gasped and put a hand to her heart.  “Oh, Maddie!”

I bit my lip.  “Sorry, Mom.  I swear I’ll do better with a real one-” I started.

But she cut me off, going in for another boa-constrictor hug that nearly knocked the wind out of me.  “I don’t give a damn about that stupid doll.  I’m just glad you’re safe,” she murmured into my hair.

I let out a deep sigh of relief. 

*  *  *

The sun was just starting to come up as we left Sebastian’s, Dana in an ambulance (though she protested that she was fine and ready to kick more butt if needed), Marco with a uniformed officer who promised to return all of his vampire hunting items as soon as they were logged out of evidence, and me with my husband.  Who, once we got home, made me the biggest breakfast omelet in the world, brought me my fuzzy slippers, and tucked me into bed without even hinting at a yell over the fact that I’d nearly gotten our baby killed.

Again.

I wasn’t sure how long I slept, but it felt like a million years.  By the time I finally awoke the next morning I was stiff, but my headache had faded to a dull roar, which I took as a good sign.  I slipped on a pink robe and padded into the kitchen where I put on a pot of coffee.  Decaf.  On the weak side.  But that first sip tasted like heaven.

I took my cup into the spare room where I found Ramirez huddled over a mountain of paperwork.  I felt just the tiniest twinge of guilt that I’d probably caused most of it.

“Knock, knock,” I said from the doorway.

Ramirez spun around, a slow smile spreading across his face at the sight of me.  “Hey, sleeping beauty.  How you feeling?”

I shrugged.  “Not bad.”  I held up my cup.  “Getting better with every sip.” 

His grin widened.  “I hope you made more.”

I nodded, coming into the room.  “I did, but it’s decaf, so don’t get too excited.”  I looked over his shoulder at the pile of papers.  “This the paperwork on Blaise?” I asked.

Ramirez let out a long sigh.  “Yeah.  This guy was a real piece of work.  We found the vial of Flunitrazepam in his place in Corona Del Mar.  Looks like he bought it online from some place in Mexico.  And turns out he’d already emptied his and his wife’s bank accounts and had the money transferred to a place in the Caymans.  Another week, and he would have been untraceable.”

I resisted the urge to gloat over catching him.  Mostly because until Blaise had pointed his gun at me, I’d had no idea he was involved. 

“How’s his wife taking it?” I asked, honestly feeling sorry for the woman.

Ramirez shrugged.  “Not well.  But I think she’ll be okay.”

“You know,” I said, sipping at my coffee again.  “There’s one thing that’s been bothering me.  Why did Becca go to North Hollywood after the party that night?  Why not just go home?”

Ramirez grinned at me.  “You didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“See this is why you should leave the real investigating to the pros,” he teased.  “We’re better at it.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Just tell me!”

“Okay, okay.  Becca was sleeping with Darwin, Alexa’s boyfriend.  He lives in that building.”

I scrunched my nose up.  “Damn.  Okay, you win, you got one on me.”  I paused, sipping.  “So I guess Sebastian really didn’t have anything to do with the murders after all?”

Ramirez shook his head.  “No.  In fact, he claims he had no idea the girls were going home with this guests, either.”

I raised an eyebrow.  “Do you believe him?”

Ramirez shrugged.  “It’s not a matter of what I believe, but what I can prove.  And, frankly, I’ve already got my hands full here,” he said, gesturing to the paperwork.

I nodded.  “I guess so.  But, if Sebastian was innocent, what was Becca’s dress from the club doing in his bedroom?”  Though even as I asked the question out loud, I felt the answer coming to me.  Becca had been sleeping with Blaise, Goldstein, and Darwin.  What did you want to bet she was playing hide the fangs with Sebastian as well?

“What dress?” Ramirez asked.

I shook my head.  “Never mind.  Not important.”

“Hmm,” he said, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully at me.  Though, thankfully, he let it go.

I looked down at my cup and realized it was empty.  “I’m gonna get a refill.  You want one?” I asked.

“Please,” Ramirez said, his eyes still watching me as I left the room.

I made my way into the kitchen and was just filling another cup when I felt Ramirez come up behind me, putting both arms around my middle.  His lips went to my neck.

“You sure you’re feeling okay,” he whispered.

I grinned, trying not to giggle at the way his breath tickled.  “Yeah.  I’m fine.”

“Hmmm, good.”  His lips moved lower, kissing along my shoulder.  “Okay enough, say, to ditch the paperwork and go back to bed?”

I froze.  “You mean…
bed
, bed?” I asked.

I felt Ramirez nod.  “Uh huh.”

I was two seconds away from ditching the robe, and my panties with it, but something made me pause.  Instead of rushing for the bedroom, I spun around to face him. 

“So,
now
you’re in the mood?”

Ramirez grinned, his eyes a dark chocolate brown that told me he definitely was.

“Where exactly has this mood been the last four months?” I asked.

Ramirez paused, his eyes going just a shade lighter.  “What do you mean?”

I wagged a finger at him.  “Don’t you play dumb with me, Jackson Wyoming Ramirez.  You know what I mean.  Tired, headaches, paperwork.  You’ve been using every excuse in the book.  What gives?”

He paused.  Then looked down at the floor.  “I just… well… I was kind of afraid of hurting the baby,” he mumbled.

I did a forehead smack.  A real one this time.

“Seriously?” I asked, blinking at him.  “Honey, exactly how big do you think you are?”

Ramirez blinked at me.  “What?”

I shook my head.  “Forget it.  Look, the fact is that it is a physical impossibility for you to get
anywhere
near the baby.  In fact, my doctor said that sex is actually
good
for the baby. Not to mention me,” I added.

Ramirez did some more blinking.  “Oh.”  Then that grin slowly began to crease his cheeks again.  “Well, that’s good to know.”

“Yeah, it is,” I said.  “It would also be good to know what suddenly has you ready to throw caution to the wind this morning.  Was it the idea of almost losing me?” I asked, my voice going soft as I took a step toward him.

He grinned, his arms snaking around my middle again.  But he shook his head.  “As scary as that idea is, it’s not exactly a turn on,” he admitted.

“Okay, so then was it the sexy vampire outfit I wore last night?”

His eyes went a dark chocolate again, but he still shook his head.

“The coffee breath?” I fished.

“Nope.”

“I give up, then.  What did I do differently?” I asked.

He grinned wider.  And maybe even blushed a little, if it was possible for Bad Cop to blush.  “I don’t know, Maddie.  Something about seeing you hold that gun over Blaise.  Being all kick ass like that.  It was… kinda hot.” he admitted.

I felt myself grin in response.  “So ‘Cagney’ turns you on, huh?”

He frowned.  “What?”

I shook my head.  “Never mind.  Just kiss me, you crazy cop.”

And he did.  Then Ramirez scooped me up (yes, all two tons of me) in his arms and made for the bedroom.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I crossed my legs, trying to ignore how badly I had to pee (for a change) as I waited patiently for the nurse to call me into the ultrasound technician’s back room.  I was pretty sure it was a form of torture that they’d told me to come with a full bladder, then made me wait twenty minutes until the tech could see me. 

Ramirez shifted in his seat beside me, flipping the page on his copy of
Popular Mechanics
.  I did the same, trying to focus on the
People
article in front of me and not my soon-to-be-exploding bladder.

Actually, it was a pretty interesting article, detailing the fall of Ava Martinez from super-stardom.  Apparently her
Playboy
shoot had enraged more than just Dana.  Posing nude was against her contract with the producers for the
Moonlight
movies, and once her spread had come out – where she was wearing a pair of fangs and nothing else – they’d dropped her option for the third movie. 

Ricky’s option, as Dana told me, however, had been renewed.  Even though Crush had reopened and was doing so well that, as Dana had originally hoped, he hadn’t needed to renew his contract for the third movie.  But when the producers had come to him with a suggestion for his new leading lady, he hadn’t been able to turn it down.  Of course, Dana was now going to have to dye her hair black, but she and Ricky were going to be seeing a lot more of each other, both on and off the set.  In preparation, Dana had started wearing her fangs twenty-four seven in order to lose her lisp.   

“Springer?” a woman in scrubs called my name from the doorway.

“Oh thank God,” I said, slamming my magazine down and fairly sprinting for the door.

I’ll admit, not only was the full bottle of water the doctor had suggested I drink before driving here playing havoc with my bladder, but I was also just the teeniest bit nervous.  This was the first time we’d really be able to see The Bump, not to mention find out whose gender predications were correct.  I had an entire Amazon shopping cart full of pink baby clothes, just waiting for the word to hit “send”. 

I grabbed Ramirez’s hand as we were led down a hallway that smelled like rubbing alcohol and Band-Aids, then into another room where I was instructed to lay down on a table.  Luckily they didn’t leave me alone long, a female technician appearing as soon as the woman in scrubs left.  She quickly squirted icy-cold goop all over my belly and stuck a wand attached to a computer on it.

I watched nervously as images moved across the computer’s screen.  Mostly fuzzy.  All black and white.  None of them even slightly resembling a person as far as I could tell.