Moscow Mules & Murder
Page 8
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked as he parked in his driveway.
“I told you, I’m fine,” I grumbled, tugging the resort beach towel tight around my shoulders. Either Beckett or Molly had thrown it over me shortly after I had burst outside, yelling for help over the bar’s festive reggae music. A majority of the customers seated around the tiki bar had merely regarded me like I was a lunatic, likely too drunk to react to my pleas.
Molly, Grayson, and Beckett had nearly collided when they came running. They appeared equally concerned as I explained Lucky had attacked someone in the employee bathroom. Grayson then sprinted into the building while my friends stayed behind to console me.
Grayson had quickly emerged with Lucky cradled in his arms. I rode along to the animal hospital where we were assured by the veterinarian on call that Lucky would be just fine after they repaired his stitches. Still, they kept him overnight so he could be monitored for any further injuries they’d missed.
“It’s Lucky you should be worried about,” I told Grayson, fighting back a sudden rush of tears. “I should’ve stopped him from charging at the man when he let out a warning growl.”
“You did the right thing.” With a heavy sigh, he pulled his keys out of the ignition. “You can’t step in front of a dog in an aggressive mode. I’ve seen little kids and grown men with their faces half torn off from doing just that.”
“But Lucky isn’t aggressive. He was only protecting me.”
“It still would’ve been a bad idea.” He stretched his neck to the stars above. “I can’t believe the resort’s receptionist didn’t see anyone else entering or leaving the employee bathroom.”
“Maybe it’s because Mariah has been the recipient of the Darwin award. Numerous times.”
“Or maybe the attacker crawled in and out of Smith’s window. I’m just glad Lucky was there to protect you.” He turned his head to the side, eyes dark in the light of the moon with worry. “I filled the chief in on what happened. He wants you to stop by the station tomorrow to give an official statement. In the meantime, he’s going to have the hospital notify him if anyone comes for treatment of a dog bite.” Throwing me a friendly smile, he opened his door. “Let’s go inside and you walk me through what happened again. No detail is too small.”
I lumbered behind him to the house, fingering the pen in my pocket left behind by the whispering man. It could’ve been something the man picked up from anywhere on the island. Or it could have a direct connection to my stalker.
I hadn’t told Grayson about the pen, or the whispered threat—only that Lucky had been attacked. I told myself it was because there hadn’t been time. Lucky had needed our immediate attention. Truthfully, however, I dreaded having to disclose every detail, knowing I would be forced to tell him about the note someone had left at the bar, the random text I had received, and the car that had parked across the street from his place. I doubted Grayson would ever let me out of his sight again.
“Whoa!” Grayson shouted from inside.
I froze just outside the cottage doorstep, my heart seizing. Was someone inside? Had my stalker been waiting for us to return?
Grayson popped his head through the cracked door. His crooked smile fell from his lips when he saw my fearful expression. “Zoey?”
I lifted a hand to my chest, trying to wrench a lighthearted laugh from my gut. “You were yelling…I guess it scared me.”
His brows stitched together. “Sorry. I was just floored by the transformation. I can’t believe how great the place looks!”
Moving toward the house, I frowned. “You haven’t been home yet?”
“I worked late and went straight to the tiki bar from the station. It’s fair to say you exceeded my expectations.” He still looked puzzled by my reaction when he offered his hand. “Come on. I owe you way more than a margarita, but it seems like a good place to start.”
My feet moved on autopilot as I slipped my hand inside his. The warmth of his touch eased some of my fear as I followed him inside. Then, as he withdrew his hand to close the door behind him, I was struck with the eerie feeling of not having to brace myself for Lucky’s affectionate greeting.
“I should’ve carried the pepper spray in my pocket,” I blurted with another rush of tears. “Then I could’ve fought him off myself. Then maybe Lucky—”
Grayson spun around, quickly folding me in his strong arms. “You heard the vet. Lucky’s going to be just fine. It’s normal to second guess your reaction after an incident like this, but you did the right thing, Zoey.” He squeezed me a little tighter. “As much as I care about that dog, I’m grateful it wasn’t you I had to take to the hospital tonight.” His warm lips briefly pressed against the top of my head. I relaxed into the kiss, wishing his lips were elsewhere.
Then he released me and started walking backward toward the kitchen with a cute little grin. “Since Molly and Beckett are both closing tonight, I told them I’d keep you here until morning. I’ll take the lumpy couch, and you can have the bed.”
With a sudden sweep of embarrassment, I shook my head. I didn’t want to sleep alone in his bed any more than I wanted him to treat me like a kid sister and be kissed on the head. “Grayson, I appreciate the offer, but Teenie’s home. I’ll be fine.”
“You expect me to believe your hundred pound, eighty-something landlord will protect you?” He shook his head, laughing. “There’s no point in arguing. Your friends agreed you shouldn’t be alone tonight. Do you want to be the one to tell them you wouldn’t listen?”
I knew by his determined expression that I had no other choice.
Saturday was my first day off in a week. Although I had planned to sleep in, I hadn’t been able to keep my eyes closed for long once I was engulfed by Grayson’s scent and tangled inside his soft cotton sheets, face buried in his feather pillow, bare skin covered by his worn t-shirt featuring a picture of AC/DC’s Brian Johnson screaming into a microphone. Being tucked beneath his black comforter and wearing his shirt had brought up feelings he clearly wouldn’t reciprocate anytime soon. I wasn’t the least bit surprised when I was awake to witness the sun first breaking through his bamboo blinds, exposing the masculine details of his bedroom.
After slipping back into the shorts I’d worn to work the previous night, I padded out into the kitchen. With the delightful sight of Grayson sprawled out on the couch, dark lashes fanning across his strong cheekbones, one impressively muscular leg poking out beneath a navy blanket, dark hair ruffled, I felt an overwhelming urge to bolt. I wasn’t equipped with the skills to deal with what felt like “the morning after” when nothing had happened beyond friendly conversation and a few cocktails. Yet I was wearing his shirt and he was half-naked. The situation was equal parts awkward, frustrating, and humiliating.
I quietly collected my belongings and crept outside.
A high-pitched tinkling bell hung above the glass door announced my arrival as I stepped foot inside the small, sleek agency on Main Street. Listings for local rental properties, many which I recognized from my daily run, plastered two walls. A small reception area contained a sleek leather couch and a knee-high cascade fountain with monster-sized koi fish swimming at the bottom. Between the lingering aroma of mango and the easy-going music playing from a bluetooth speaker, the atmosphere was spa-like.
From inside my pocket, my phone buzzed for the umpteenth time since I had snuck out of Grayson’s house. I tugged it out from my pocket to see it was him calling yet again. While I had showered and changed at home, he’d left half a dozen voicemail messages. I typed out a message, letting him know I left early because I had several errands to run before he took me to the station to make my statement about the attack.
I nearly dropped my phone with the sound of someone exclaiming in a heavy New York accent, “Hey, I know you! You’re that friendly redhead I always see running down Main Street, waving at everyone. Don’t you work at Beach Bummers?”
I returned my phone to my pocket and closed the distance
between myself and the perky woman behind the glass receptionist’s desk. The frizzy-haired blonde wore a turquoise tropical print sundress, paired with a blinding collection of jewelry. Over a heavy application of foundation, her cheekbones glowed with bronzer.
“That’s me. My name's Zoey Zastrow.”
The woman pressed her slender hands against her plump cheeks and released a high-pitched squeal. “Oh my god! Zoey! What a perfectly adorable name for a perfectly adorable girl!” She popped up to her jewel-sandaled feet, thrusting her hand out. The petite woman made me feel tall for a change. “I’m Glori….with an ‘i.’ Pleased to make your acquaintance, sweetheart!”
Long red fingernails poked at my knuckles when we exchanged a quick handshake. “I think I remember seeing you at the bar. Long island iced teas with top-shelf tequila, right?”
Glori pressed the palms of her hands against the sides of her face. “You got me there! You can take a girl out of Long Island, but you can’t take Long Island out of the girl!” The woman cackled with laughter. Dozens of bracelets clinked down her arms when she lowered her hands down to her waist. “What can I do you for, Miss Zoey? Ready to upgrade to something oceanside? Maybe something with a little more pizazz?”
“Something like that,” I decided. Beyond confronting Ron Finkle to see if he could be my stalker, I hadn’t thought the process through. My fingers rolled the ballpoint pen inside my pocket. I needed a solid cover story. “My boyfriend and I are looking to rent a place together, so I’ll finally be able to afford an upgrade.”
“Oh, how exciting! I remember the first time I rented a place with my husband. It was god awful—an efficiency apartment on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Smaller than the room we’re standing in now. The pipes groaned, the windows leaked whenever it rained, and I’m pretty sure a family of rats lived in the kitchen cabinets, but it was ours.” A spark of affection passed through the woman’s sharp hazel eyes. “You know what I’m saying?”
“Sounds lovely,” I answered, nodding.
“Hold on a minute, sweetheart, and I’ll see if Ron’s still on his cell phone. He should be able to fit you in before his first appointment, no problem.” The woman turned, momentarily disappearing behind a solid white door. I held my breath, wondering if I had made a mistake by confronting the man without telling anyone. But the man stalking me could be anyone on the island. A random pen embossed with Ron Finkle’s name didn’t mean anything.
I continued to believe that diluted theory until the woman returned a minute later to produce a tall, 50-something man in a gray suit over a white shirt partially unbuttoned. He was reasonably attractive, or so I figured someone my mom’s age would decide, sporting full mocha hair and a well-groomed mustache equally speckled with fine silver hairs. Faint lines creased his deeply tanned forehead and feathered around his eyes, hinting he was well past his prime despite the youthful smile with slightly crooked teeth he flashed at his receptionist. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I had also seen him a time or two at Beach Bummers.
Time stopped when the man reached up to brush a lock of wayward hair from his forehead.
His hand was wrapped in a clean white bandage.
I swallowed a whimper as my eyes dragged upward to meet the man’s wide-eyed look.
His smile evaporated.
I was certain I was eye-to-eye with my attempted attacker.
Eleven
Holding the surprised stare of Ron Finkle, my heart twisted. A painfully drawn-out moment passed before he grimaced and shoved both hands inside his pants’ pockets. Would he attack me in front of his irritatingly cheerful receptionist?
Judging by Glori’s beaming smile, she was clueless as to the tension I felt. “Ron, this is Zoey Zastrow. She’s looking to make an upgrade with her beau. They’re shacking up together for the first time. Isn’t it romantic?” She touched Ron’s arm. “Remember the place we first rented together on the Lower East Side?”
A wave of unease swept through my insides. Ron and Glori were a couple. But were they a “Monica and Chandler” kind of couple, or a “Joker and Harley Quinn” kind of couple?
Ron squared his stance and attempted a smile. “Nice to meet you, Miss Zastrow.” His thin lips settled into a hard line. Was he preparing to pounce? Would peppy little Glori be strong enough to help him hide my body?
The bell over the Island Sunshine Rentals’ front door announced the arrival of someone behind me. Saved by the bell, I realized with a slight shudder.
“Zoey?”
The rumble of Grayson’s deep voice knocked the air from my lungs. As hard as I had been crushing on him ever since we first met, I never imagined I could be even more excited to see him than usual. I was safe from Ron. For now.
With my back to the potentially murderous couple, I rose to my tiptoes and flung my arms around his neck before brushing a soft kiss across his warm lips. Although my body tingled in celebration of the unplanned kiss, Grayson’s arms remained at his sides, and his body stiffened.
Heat prickled my cheeks. If he had responded differently, I might’ve kissed him again. I was desperate for any excuse to pause the predicament I had placed myself in. While I was certain whatever was beneath Ron’s bandaged hand would prove his guilt, I wasn’t ready to blindside Grayson with the truth. Besides, I knew he didn’t carry his gun when he was off duty, and both Glori and Ron could be dangerous.
When I pulled a still-stunned Grayson tight against me for an embrace, I noticed a dark colored sports car parked around the corner, and swallowed a yelp. “Please, help me out of this,” I whispered into his ear. I couldn’t stand the thought of looking him in the eye after his cold response. “I need an excuse to leave. I’ll explain later.”
He finally reciprocated the hug, arms slightly limp with reluctance. Worse yet, his hands patted my back in a condescending manner. I realized a moment too late the lie could create havoc for a newcomer on the island—especially one in the public eye. The pack of gossiping old birds who gathered at Dee Dee’s every morning would quickly spread word about the new detective dating someone much younger.
“You must be the boyfriend!” Glori sang excitedly. “My, aren’t you a handsome one! Don’t they make a striking couple, Ron?”
Grayson slipped his arm around my waist and tucked me against his side before we turned to meet the curious looks of my alleged stalker and his wife. “Sorry to cut this short,” he told them. “Zoey forgot we promised to pick my parents up from the airport this morning. If we don’t leave now, we’ll be late. I’d hate to give them a first bad impression of my girl.”
“First time meeting the parents!” Glori clapped her hands together. “How exciting!”
With one eyebrow slightly raised, Ron’s dark gaze fell on me. “I was looking forward to meeting with you. I trust you’ll make an appointment with my wife for a time that works best with your schedule.” Even though his expression remained stoic, I could sense he was projecting a silent threat. I wished he’d whisper so I could decide whether or not he was the man from the bathroom. “It was nice meeting you, Zoey. And—”
“Detective Grayson Rivers,” Grayson offered with a tip of his head.
Ron’s face paled when he cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse me, I hear my cell phone ringing in my office.”
“I’ll call later for that appointment,” I told Glori before whisking Grayson out the door. Trembling, I parted ways with him and made a beeline for the passenger’s side of his Bronco parked out front.
Without looking in my direction, Grayson slipped his sunglasses on before starting the vehicle and pulling into the road. As the wind whipped through my unruly locks, I closed my eyes and inhaled the fresh ocean air. While meeting the Finkles wasn’t necessarily a brush with death, I had never been so grateful to be alive.
“Can’t wait to hear what that was about,” Grayson said after a few blocks.
I dropped my head back on the headrest and turned to him. “How’d you know where to find me?”
“Before we go to the station, we need to find a quiet place to talk. There’s something I have to tell you.”
Glancing my way, his lips quirked with a sly grin. “I’m guessing by the way you kissed me back there, it has something to do with Island Sunshine Rentals.”
I ducked my chin to hide the heat spreading across my neck. “I’m so sorry I put you in that situation. I should’ve come up with a better lie. I panicked.”
“Apology accepted.” He nudged my arm with his elbow. “Just don’t let it happen again.”
When Grayson continued to pace the shoreline over and over for minutes on end, elbows pointed at the sky as he gripped the back of his neck and stomped barefooted through the sand, I exchanged urgent texts with Molly.
SOS! SOS! I told Grayson about the note Smith found and the fact that I think the attack in the bathroom came from the same person. He’s not taking it so well.
Three dots flashed briefly before Molly’s reply whooshed onto my phone’s screen.
Ummm…why would u think those 2 things were related?
I was quick to tap out a fast reply.
Because the man in the bathroom said something about stopping my search for Ginny b4 Lucky attacked him. And Grayson saved me from an encounter with the man who is most likely behind it all.
The telltale dots of Molly’s response appeared. Then went away. Then reappeared. I huffed as the cycle continued without any actual response.
As Grayson marched back toward me, his expression stoic, I sent one last message to my bestie.