Authors: Stella Cameron
Tags: #Mystery & Detective, #Contemporary, #General, #Romance, #Suspense, #Erotica, #Fiction
“Shut up,” he told her. “You’re as guilty as I am.”
“Am I?” The glasses came off and he got the full force of her extraordinary eyes. “Who would believe it? After all, how was I to guess he’d walk in like that. But that’s not the point. I think you’re losing your nerve and that won’t do. Not now.”
“Losing my nerve? I have everything in perfect control. Soon it will be time to go to Sonnie and talk. Today, I think. Talon told her what I told him to tell her. It was perfect. They think I asked him to break the news because we accept him. She called me and she doesn’t sound herself. Whatever that is. She is almost ready. We will persuade her that we need to get away from this place. Together. We will soon have everything we want.”
“Not with Talon glued to her.” Her wine-soaked fingertip came to rest on his lips. “I told you they were getting too cozy. They’ve been together since last night. Like Siamese twins. Every moment since last night. I assume you understand what I’m telling you. He’s trouble, I tell you. I’ve asked around. He was a hotshot detective. New York. Narcotics. Chris Talon is a hard, hard, man and for some reason he’s decided to stick to my sister like superglue. God, what a waste.”
There were times when Romano detested Billy’s cruelty to Sonnie. At least for him there was nothing personal about what he had to accomplish with his brother’s wife. “A waste because you wish he was fucking you instead?”
That nail jabbed into his lower lip and she snatched her hand away before he could grab it. “First I intend to try talk therapy,” she said. “I’m going to do my best to convince that lovely man that he’s wasting good time on a sicko he can’t save.”
Panic rushed to his head. “You won’t go near him. You won’t say a word. You’ll give everything away. If he is this hotshot narcotics detective you say he is, he will not be easily fooled. And if we are really unfortunate, he will turn his policeman’s eyes on us because he will wonder why you would speak so of your sister.”
“You forget how often I’ve been told I’d make a great actress.”
Romano tasted blood on his lip. “You were told, a long, long time ago, that if you played tennis as well as you made a fool of yourself on court, you’d be a great champion. Apparently you’ve chosen to interpret those embarrassing statements differently.”
Her face paled. “I hate you. I hate you and I’ll make you pay for what you just said.”
“Do not lose focus, my dear. Not yet, or we will fail. If we fail...”
“When will you get together with Sonnie?”
“Υοu don’t want to face possible consequences.” There was no satisfaction left in taunting her. “We must both go to her. That is the appropriate way. We will discuss the news and beg her to come north with us. After all, we must stay together in our grief. We must suffer together, cry together.”
“Throw up together.”
He smiled, but the taste in his mouth was bitter. “I think you forget that I loved my brother.”
“You don’t know he’s dead. Not for sure.”
“If he were alive,” Romano said, “I would have heard from him by now. And I didn’t lie when I said I got a call, a tip, that Frank died soon after he was abducted.”
Billy gave a theatrical sigh. “What a pity, what a shame. Call the waitress.”
“I have also received proof of his death. You’ve drunk much more than enough.”
“I’ll call her.” She waved her glass in the air. “You will get Sonnie away and talk to her. At the same time, I’ll be with Chris Talon, persuading him to move on.”
Romano had never felt more threatened. “How do you think you will do this, Billy?”
“Why, Romano”—she chucked him under the chin—“don’t you trust me? First I thank him for looking after my little sister; then I point out that there’s someone much more worthy of his attention.”
“Call me—do do do—im-pet-u-ous. Oh, yeah, I’m—do do do—im-pet-u-ous.”
Sonnie paused beside the piano at the Rusty Nail and screwed up her face at Chris. “Cute,” she said. “You ought to write songs, but you might want to put them to original music. You can really play, Chris. I love listening to you.”
He reached up and crossed his wrists on top of the piano. “I love everything about you. Top that.”
Frank might have been dead, yet she was enjoying the attention of another man. Yes, she was enjoying every moment of it. And
attention
was a weak word for what they’d shared last night. “I don’t think we’ll hold a contest here.”
“Aha. But we will hold one somewhere else?”
“I’m supposed to be working. And the day’s more than half over. Shouldn’t you be out asking some more questions?”
“I will be, boss. I’m waiting for some calls. One call, to be precise.” He wasn’t joking around anymore. “Sonnie, while I’m gone you have to be where I can be sure you’re safe. Roy and Bo can take good care of you if you’ll let them. Will you?”
“Υοu frighten me. I can’t stay—” A man on the opposite side of the street caught her attention. His impressive gut had nothing to do with the feeling he’d given her. His absorption did. He was watching her through the open shutters of the Nail. His head was shaved.
“What is it?” Chris asked, whipping around to see what she was looking at. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You can cut the lies, lady. We’re dealing with serious stuff.”
The man had been completely still, but he turned away and was lost in the surging crowds along Duval. “I think I just saw the man who threatened me that night. The drunk. He turned up at that motel.”
Chris got to his feet. “And you stood there without telling me again?” He came from behind the piano.
“He’s gone now. You’d never find him.”
Chris curled his tongue over his upper teeth. What he was thinking didn’t need to be said.
“I know I should have said something at once, but I’m afraid to heap on any more supposed
events.
If you don’t already think I’ve got an overactive imagination, I don’t know why. He’s not important. Just a man at loose ends. I thought he’d have left Key West by now.”
“Υou hoped he would have.”
Snapping his fingers to a rhythm only he heard, swinging an imaginary partner, Bo danced toward them. “Okay if I ask a question?” he said_
“You will anyway,” Chris told him.
“Most certainly. You haven’t spent much time in your luxury quarters of late. Any comments about Aiden’s limousine being parked out there? And there being no sign of Aiden? Did you send him on a mission?”
“Nope.”
Sonnie looked sharply at Chris. “Did something happen between you two?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
She persisted. “Chris. Why is Aiden’s car out back if Aiden isn’t anywhere around?”
“Maybe he wanted to give me his pride and joy as a sop to his conscience.”
Whatever spoke to Bo’s musical tastes set his head gyrating from side to side. “Don’t know why you put up with this bozo, Sonnie,” he said, closing his eyes. “He’s mean and tough. He alienates his friends. He doesn’t appreciate having the best brother in the world.”
“I don’t know where Flynn is, okay? I told him to get lost and apparently he complied.”
“Why would you do that?” Sonnie said.
The way Chris’s lips pressed together didn’t inspire warm sensations.
“We had a disagreement,” he said. “Bo, I need to follow up a few leads. I’ve asked Sonnie to stay with you. That means—”
“What leads?” she asked when she recovered from the casual way he mentioned them. “What have you found out?”
“Later, ma’am. Bo, without wanting to send too much fear into anyone around here, this lady must
not
be allowed to leave this place. Not until I’m with her. Do we understand each other?”
Every inch of Bo moved to his music. “I’ve got it. Roy’ll get it, too. Our Sonnie may say she doesn’t intend to get it at all.”
“I want to know why Aiden would leave his car behind,” Sonnie said. “He loves that thing. Chris, I’m worried about him.”
“Don’t be. Ornery SOBs like Aiden have more lives than a cat.”
“I distinctly heard that boy say he’d already used up eight lives,” Bo said. “That could mean he’s on his last one. I agree with Sonnie. We want to know where Aiden is.”
“Shee-it.”
“Ladies in the house,” Bo said, still dreamy. “If Roy hears you, I’ll pity you.”
“Phone,” Roy yelled from behind the bar. Pep, the small, golden-skinned woman who helped out during the day, ducked out with a cordless in hand. She trotted to give it to Chris and said to Bo, “I’ m off now. Got to feed that man of mine. So long, Sοnnie. Don’t take anything from these guys.”
“I won’t,” Sοnnie told her.
Chris listened and injected occasional “Yeahs.” He clicked off the instrument and set it down on top of the piano.
“Get that back over here,” Roy shouted, letting them know he was watching every move.
Picking up the phone again, Chris angled his head to indicate they should all go to the bar. “Give me a few minutes, will you?” he said when both Bo and Sοnnie had joined Roy on the other side. “I won’t be more than a few minutes. Honest. I gotta check that pest Flynn’s vehicle.”
“Why?” Sοnnie made fists on the counter. “What was that call about? Don’t keep anything from us, Chris.”
“I need a few minutes on my own, okay? I’ll come back and fill you in.”
“Chris—”
“Please, Sonnie. We’re wasting time here, and I don’t think that’s a luxury we can afford.”
“Go,” she said, but she could scarcely stand the suspense. Chris didn’t argue. He left by the back door.
Bo let out a huge breath and slumped with his elbows on the bar. “That man will be the death of us all. So much goes on inside him, yet he is still so secretive.”
Sonnie’s thoughts exactly. She didn’t want to hang around waiting for Chris to come back when he felt like it. “It’s quiet this afternoon,” she said, striving for nonchalance.
“Not that quiet,” Roy said promptly. “Not quiet enough for you to find an excuse to slide out of here. So if you’ve got any ideas, forget ‘em. Right, Bo?”
“You got it. Sonnie, Chris wants the best for you. He cares about you, and that’s something we haven’t seen in a long time, not since—”
“Not in a long time,” Roy put in. “And if you leave, I’m just going to have to go with you.”
She took glasses from a dish crate and slid them into the wooden racks overhead.
“Sonnie?” Roy said.
“I’ll stay put. Thank you for caring about me.”
“We do,” Bo said. “And we think we’re lucky to get the opportunity. Nasty weather forecasts coming in again. What d’you think, Roy? Are we gonna get hit this year?”
Roy ducked his head to squint outside. “I’ve got a feeling we may. I always feel the storms are playing with us. They try to make us careless, then sock it to us. We’ll just have to keep an ear to the ground. Anybody ask that guy over there what he wants? Too good to serve himself, I guess.”
Grateful for the diversion, Sonnie took the man’s order for a beer and a tequila shooter. He was tall and bleached blond, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses, and dressed entirely in black leather—including a black leather jerkin unzipped almost to his navel. His chest bore an impressive array of tattoos. One ear was edged with at least a dozen rings, a small cross dangled from another piercing in his eyebrow, and there were two rings in his right nostril. He gave the impression of not welcoming small talk, so she didn’t give him any.
“Sonnie,” Roy said when she was back behind the bar, “how much has Chris told you about himself?”
The question caught her off guard and she blinked several times.
“Not much?” Roy said. “That doesn’t surprise me. You think he’s a hard son of a...beechnut, don’t you? He’s had some hard knocks, but his real problem is that he’s too quick to take the blame for other people’s actions. Not that he’ll listen to anyone who tries to tell him that.”
Sonnie checked the bar. Despite Roy’s protests to the contrary, the place was all but deserted. A couple sat near the windows, and the blond man occupied his table with evident surly uninterest in his surroundings. “I don’t think Chris would like it if he knew we’d talked about him.”
“To hell—he isn’t here, so he doesn’t know what we’re talking about,” Bo said. “And Roy and I have decided he needs help. He needs to stop hiding from himself. No way can a man come to terms with himself as long as he pretends there’s nothing wrong with him.”
“He’s a hell of a detective,” Roy said. “They fought to keep him in New York, but the man’s got concrete between his ears when it comes to listening to what other people think of him. He blames himself for something that wasn’t his fault, and he won’t listen to anyone who tries to make him more objective. You sure he didn’t say anything about what happened in New York?”
Sonnie shook her head. She glanced repeatedly at the back door. “I think Chris has to decide to tell me himself, if he ever wants to,”
“He won’t decide,” Roy said.
“Because he won’t forgive himself,” Bo added.
“We want you to know this because it’ll make it easier for you to understand when he gets real moody,” Roy said. “He was on a case. Called into a pusher’s place on a domestic violence complaint. Chris had been aching for a reason to go in there. The pusher had beaten up his wife and scared his kids—if they were his kids—into gibbering balls in the corners.
“The wife’s sister was there—and her boyfriend. Evidently the boyfriend and the pusher were real tight. The sister didn’t look so hot, either. She had a face that had probably looked a whole lot better before it needed so many stitches.
“Chris rounded up the guys—while the women begged for them to be released. Why would any woman behave like that?” He shook his head and obviously didn’t expect an answer. “Chris got the handcuffs on. He’d called for his backup—who was Aiden Flynn—and Aiden got in at a trot. Then Chris went in a back room. The place was filthy. Stank. On the floor between a bed and the wall he found an unconscious baby, about six months old. The kid was covered with bruises. Chris went mad. He loves kids. He wanted his own, but Beatty was never quite ready for them. Beatty was his wife. When he saw this little guy who’d obviously suffered so much, he just lost it.