Monroe, Melody S. - Verdict (Siren Publishing Classic) (10 page)

As he twisted around to back up, he glanced to the backseat. Susan’s eyes were closed. She looked as restful as one could be while curled up in a tight ball on the seat. The big question was how much to tell her. The poor woman had been through enough, but she deserved a brief description.

He made sure his head wasn’t facing the two cops when he spoke. “Let me go around the block before you get up and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Her voice wavered.

Acid rolled up his throat. “I’m afraid so. I just wish I knew who was orchestrating these deaths. And why are we always one step behind this bastard?”

“Are you going to call Mr. Thomason and tell him another one of his jurors is dead?”

“I don’t know who I can trust anymore.”

She uncurled on the backseat but wisely stayed low. “Are you thinking this is an inside job? That someone in the Bureau is killing these people?”

Once again he was impressed with her intuition. If she weren’t a lawyer, she’d made a good detective. “Not directly.” He faced front again and pulled away from the house. “I have several issues. You arrive at your town house, and within a day, the place burns down. Of the eight remaining jurors, three die. One right after the other. We’ve never had a leak before. Something is going on.”

“And you suspect Mr. Thomason?”

Was she a specialist in mind reading now? “Could be him. Could be my direct boss, Harrison Lowry, or any number of people. I just don’t know what motive they’d have for leaking the addresses. They know they’ll be caught eventually. The Bureau does not forgive indiscretion.” He could only hope they never learned of Tom’s role in giving him the information.

“There’s no one at work you trust completely?”

He checked the rear-view mirror and glanced side to side at the passing homes. He expected some car to be driving by, but the area was at a standstill. “Tom.”

Harrison Lowry had come over from a different department two years ago. While his record was impeccable, he and Thomason had become instant best buds, at least the first year. He never did learn what happened, but things began to sour between them.

“Are you going to call him?”

Stone signaled and made the right turn. “Yes. He’ll inform the correct channels without revealing my involvement.”

She sat up. “Is Caravello still in jail?”

He’d wondered the same thing. “I’ll find out.”

“I had believed Peter Caravello was behind Anne-Marie’s death. Now I’m not so sure unless he had an accomplice who killed this juror.”

“Anything’s possible, but I know Peter. He wasn’t involved.” Why did he bother explaining? She wouldn’t believe him.

“Are you completely convinced it was a homicide?”

He pulled his thoughts back to comment. “If it wasn’t, Marcardis was one careless and unlucky bastard. I can’t image anyone not shutting off the power when handling electricity.”

“Like Anne-Marie. She was unlucky enough to volunteer to pick up the big bosses and borrow a car rigged to blow up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.”

Having her on the same page helped him refocus on what they needed to do. He moved out of sight of the crime scene and pulled over. Susan scooted into the front seat, and her lemony scent jerked him from his goals. “I, uh, need to call T-Squared before we get back on the road.”
Real cool, Stone. You act like a lovesick teenager.

A moment later he made the call. “Joe’s Bar and Grill.”

“Phillip Marcadis is dead.” No use beating around the bush.

“Lord help us. How did he die?”

He told Tom about the supposed electrocution.

“It was murder. Had to be. How the fuck did someone find out where Marcadis was staying? It took all my skill to get the addresses. And I work here.”

“You find the answer to that question, and we’ll be one step closer to finding the killer.”

Tom must have placed a hand over the phone for a second as a different voice came out muffled. “Sorry about that.”

“What about Caravello? Could he have had anything to do with Marcadis’ death?” He held his voice flat. With Susan next to him, he didn’t want give away his concern.

“Lawyers posted bail right away. He walked last night.”

Shit.

Someone could claim that if Peter had driven straight through, he could have made the twelve-hour drive to Lake City by morning. Stone stole a glance at Susan, but she was staring out the side window. Good. She didn’t need any more ammunition against Peter, which she might turn against him. Losing her fragile trust could jeopardize her life, something he refused to let happen.

* * * *

Peter Caravello dragged his lips along Maria Francisco’s neck, enjoying her smooth skin and delicious scent. He ignored the vibrating phone at his hip.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” She ran a hand down his belly, grabbed his cock and squeezed.

“With what you’re doing? Not on your life.”

She sat back up. “I can’t concentrate when someone wants to talk to you. It could be the lawyers saying they caught whoever is killing those jurors.”

“All right.” He tugged the phone from his pocket. “It’s Stone.” He punched the talk button. “Yeah, buddy.” He ran a hand down Maria’s arm.

“Where are you?”

Peter’s defenses shot up at Stone’s harsh accusation. “I’m home. Why?” Had Stone learned he’d been in jail?

“Another juror was killed about an hour ago.”

“Where?” He lifted Maria off his lap and motioned her away. He didn’t need the distraction.

“Florida.”

Peter let out a laugh. “I’ve been here all morning.” He looked over at Maria and pasted on a smile. She didn’t return his apparent happiness.

“Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts?” His friend’s tone had softened, but he acted as though maybe Stone still believed he might be guilty of something.

“Always the cop.”

“Answer my question. Please.”

The polite request got to him. “I’ve been at home with Maria since my release.” He motioned he wanted her by his side again now the alert had sounded. She’d have to go back to the hospital soon, and he didn’t want to squander their time together.

“Maria, as in Maria Francisco?”

“The one and only but don’t say a word. No one knows we’ve hooked up.” He’d wanted to tell Stone he’d finally found the woman of his dreams, but he wasn’t willing to listen to him rant and rave about the stupid move. Rival mob families didn’t mix. Especially those with bad blood between them.

“Christ, her old man would have a shit fit if he found out.”

Stone sounded like his old self. All drama and self-righteousness. “Which is why I didn’t tell you before. I don’t need the lecture.”

“Sorry. I of all people understand the need to keep some secrets, well, secret.”

“Thanks.”

“Were you with Maria the night Janet Starkey died?”

Smart man. “Sure was.” He detected a lot of traffic noise. “Where are you? I thought your job was to protect people in their home.”

“I am protecting someone. She’s with me.” Stone relayed the story of the fire and how it had nearly killed both him and the witness. He didn’t mention Susan’s name.

“That must have been scary.” Maria returned to her rightful place on his lap and nuzzled his neck.

“More than you can imagine.”

From the pain in his friend’s tone, he wanted to ask him more details, but now wasn’t time. “I’m glad you’re both okay.”

“Thanks. We got cut off the last time we talked. What did the Bureau have on you that they would come after you and not your good-for-nothing brother?”

“They found Janet Starkey’s wallet at my house, though I don’t know how they knew to look there.” He held his breath, waiting for the recrimination.

“Who could have planted it there?”

Relief washed over him. Stone believed him. “You tell me.”

“James?”

He understood that to the outside world his older brother was the most likely candidate. He had his fingers deep in Dad’s counterfeiting practice, but there was no way James would turn on the only family he had left.

“He has no reason to see me go down. We haven’t spoken much since Dad’s death, but if I’ve made anything clear, it’s I won’t interfere with how he runs his life.”

Maria tapped her watch indicating she had to go soon. He held up a finger.

“You might be right,” Stone said.

“Look I gotta go. Keep in touch.”

The moment he hung up, he wrapped her arms around her waist and leaned his lips close to her ear, her scent arousing him.

“Does he believe you?” she asked.

“Hard to tell when Stone is in cop mode. He could make Mr. Spock look emotional.”

She leaned back and smiled. “Who?”

God, she was sheltered. “No one important. Now where were we?”

She kissed him hard, and he gathered her slim body closer.

Her cell rang and she stiffened. She slipped the phone from her pocket. “It’s Dad. I have to answer it.”

He knew the routine. “Go ahead. We might as well get all the phone calls out of the way.”

She softened her lips and lingered on his mouth before leaning back. “Hi, Dad.” She brushed the bangs way from her face. “I can’t come now. I’m at the hospital doing rounds.” Maria rolled her eyes as she got up again.

He missed her already. Peter mouthed the words,
I love you.

Maria blushed. Cute.

“Stacia got sick, and I have to take her shift.” She paced in front of him. “Uh-oh. Code blue. I have to go. Bye.” She disconnected and blew out a breath. “I hate lying to him.”

“You know the consequences if you don’t.”

Chapter Eight

Susan didn’t want to leave the motel bathroom. The shower had removed the day’s grime and had helped lessen the impact of the newest juror’s death despite the horrible incident raising more questions. Where was Marcadis’ bodyguard? Or better yet, had the FBI even sent someone to protect the juror? And why was Marcadis changing a fan on day two of his confinement?

Okay, she could answer that. He needed to be in control of some part of his life.
Like me.

Enough.
Get out of the shower and stop fixating on what you can’t change.
Being cocooned in the tight tiled shower, with the door locked, had given her the sense of security she craved, and she wanted to stay there all night.

A rap sounded on the bathroom door. “Susan, you have to come out sometime.”

Right. Stone needed to shower, and it was probably way past 10:00 p.m. “I’m coming.”

She dried off, changed into her pajamas and gathered the clothes she’d neatly folded. The makeup bag sat on the counter next to his toothbrush and razor. That’s right. His stuff near her stuff.

Don’t do this.
After her divorce, she’d sworn off men, but despite her distrust of Stone, he’d uprooted a deep yearning inside her. From the way the jurors’ deaths seemed to tear him apart, he wasn’t involved in what happened to them.

She hoped.

Her hand twisted the knob. She could handle adversity and conflict a hell of a lot better than the fluttering in her belly. She inhaled deeply, hoping to draw on her attorney self-control.

It didn’t work. While she didn’t understand his relationship to the mob family, he hadn’t given her any further proof he was other than what he claimed.

Hell, she was a grown woman on the run, in need of protection. She could swallow her emotional baggage for a night.

She opened the door and stilled.
Ohmigod
. He didn’t have a shirt on. Her throat turned dry. His bulging shoulder muscles and amazing abs screamed, “touch me.” Not what she needed right now. In a sick way, she wished Peter Caravello was in the room with a gun pointed at her. Then, she’d know for sure which side of the fence Stone was on.

Stay clinical.
She pretended she was standing in front of the two-way mirror studying men in a line up. Her gaze travelled the length of his body. A band of what looked like barbed wire ran the circumference of his bicep, along with an unclear design above the barbs. The tattoo appeared old and distorted. She wondered why he chose that disturbing image to mar his perfectly sculpted body. Good. Her description came out objective.

She ripped her gaze from the enticing view and strode past him, hoping he hadn’t caught the stare and the slight mouth drop. The steam followed her out.

“You leave any hot water for me?” His voice held too much teasing and her confidence began to crumble.

She turned and glanced up, failing to block the warmth spreading to her pussy. His eyes were wide, but in an animated way. “What? You’re not into cold showers?” The light tone in her voice held too much sexual innuendo. Damn it.

Flirting drew two people closer, which was not what she needed right now.

His gaze ran the length of her. “I might just need one now.”