by Dobbs, L. A.
Then he could focus on Shane and all their history together.
A quick check of his watch showed it was close to eleven a.m. If Laura was right, he should have until mid-afternoon to do some digging on his own before the police showed up to haul him in for questioning. He grabbed his denim jacket off the back of his chair and shrugged it on, his nose wrinkling at the flowery scent of fabric softener. Blake had washed all his stuff—all meaning the one outfit he currently owned—along with his own stuff the other night. Once he got back on his feet again, he definitely needed to go shopping for some new duds.
After checking to make sure Blake was busy in his office, Chase slipped into a nearby supply closet and snagged a pair of latex gloves, then ducked out a side entrance and headed for the bus hut on the corner to wait for the next shuttle to Fremont Street. He needed to find some scrap of evidence that proved his innocence before he faced the police. To go in with nothing would be too risky, given his current situation.
4
A short time later, Chase stepped off the bus in front of the Lucky Ace Hotel and Casino, surrounded by a small crowd of excited tourists and determined elderly who elbowed him out of the way in their rush to dump their latest social security checks into the awaiting slot machines.
He lingered behind for a few moments, spotting the squad car parked near the entrance. That female detective Laura had mentioned must still be there questioning Owen. Wary of being spotted lurking around the premises, he headed down the side of the building instead, toward one of the less busy entrances near the back.
Once inside, the cheerful clang of dropping coins and the smell of food wafting from the nearby food court helped to ease his nerves. With so many people inside, he should have sufficient cover to slip through the place unseen. Hopefully, anyway.
“Hey, aren’t you the new guy at the office?”
Chase’s heart stuttered at the words. So much for stealth.
He turned slowly and spotted a Rockford Security guard stationed near the door. Play it cool. Play it cool. Play it cool. He repeated the mantra over and over in his head, and he forced a smile as he stepped closer to the guy. “Yeah, that’s me.” He flashed his ID. “They sent me over to talk to Owen. Any idea where I might find him?”
“Probably still in his office with the police.” The guard pointed toward the hall where Warren Bryant’s office was located. “He’s two doors down from the head honcho. Or ex-head honcho, I guess.”
“Great. Thanks.” Chase waved then headed off toward the private elevator where he’d ridden up to the condo with Katherine. A quick glance at the wall showed the traitorous security camera that had caught him bolting down the hall. Dammit. He should’ve noticed the security cameras there that first day, should’ve been more careful. Then again, he wasn't anticipating having to avoid being seen fleeing the scene of a murder.
Approaching the secluded hallway again, he lowered his head and pulled the collar of his jacket higher to obscure his face from any potential cops that might be snooping around. No mistakes this time. Just in and out and back to the offices to wait for the police like a good little suspect.
He had no idea what he was looking for. Maybe something in the condo that would incriminate Katherine? If he could even get in there. When he got to the elevator, however, a new idea struck. Careful to avoid detection, he headed a bit farther down and stopped at Warren Bryant’s office door instead. The police were gone, apparently having completed their investigation of the murder scene. The area had been cordoned off with numerous strips of yellow police tape, but he wasn’t about to let that stop him. If he could find a clue that cleared him in the office, he'd be golden.
Plan approved, he tugged on the latex gloves and reached for the handle, then halted, noticing the door was slightly ajar. From the hushed sound of rustling papers, someone was already in there. Adrenaline zinged through his system as his instincts went on high alert. Not a cop, since the police would leave the door wide open. So, who else? The real murderer?
He didn’t have any weapons, but if worse came to worse, he could bust out all of the hand-to-hand combat skills he’d learned in prison. Inmates might pull their punches inside when the warden was around, but outside in the Rec yard, it was no holds barred.
After a quick check of the area to make sure no one was watching him, he pushed the door open a bit farther and slipped inside through a large opening between two crisscrossed pieces of police tape. From across the room he spotted a woman, her platinum blond curls glistening beneath the overhead recessed lighting. Petite, curvy, and cute, she appeared to be on a fact-finding mission, given the way she was rifling through the drawers. The top of a large mahogany desk--squatting near the back of the spacious, elegantly appointed space—was empty, along with the bookshelves running the length of the wall behind it. Seemed all the contents of the room had already been taken into evidence by the police. Apparently this gal felt they’d left something behind though.
Chase quietly clicked the door shut behind him and scanned the space for security cameras. He didn't see any. Good. He could frisk the area without worrying about making another appearance on Candid Cop Camera.
The woman looked up at Chase as he snicked the lock on the door into place. Her eyes were puffy and her nose was red, as if she’d been crying. An unwanted flare of sympathy spread through him, and he had the crazy urge to rush over and pull her into his arms. He tamped the crazy notion down deep and stepped closer, his voice low. “Who are you?”
She swiped a tangle of curls over her shoulder. “I’m Warren Bryant’s daughter, Shelby. Who the hell are you?”
For a rich girl, she certainly wasn’t dressed like one. In her simple jeans and plain T-shirt, she looked ready for a romp in the park or a walk on the beach, so different from the designer disaster he’d encountered with Katherine. She wore little makeup and her skin looked soft as silk. He clenched his hands at his sides to keep from reaching out and tracing a finger down her flawless cheek to confirm his hunch.
What the heck?
Here he was wasting his one opportunity to prove his innocence by ogling the casino boss’s daughter. Who might possibly be the real killer here to remove evidence.
Her full lips thinned slightly and she squared her shoulders. She was several inches shorter than him, but refused to back down. He admired her bravery.
“I asked you who you were,” she repeated, her tone quiet and quavering. Not with fear though, if the spark in her eyes was any indication.
Chase stayed where he was, not wanting to spook her. “I’m with Rockford Security.”
“Oh.” Disappointment dampened the fire in her pretty blue eyes. “Marvelous. Lot of good you people did for my dad.”
Affronted on behalf of his newfound benefactors and glad for the distraction, Chase defended his new employers. “Hey, we did the best we could. No one can plan for all contingencies.”
“Contingencies?” Pink flushed her creamy cheeks and Chase amended his former statement. She wasn’t just cute. She was beautiful. “Maybe this was just another job to you, but Dad was no contingency. And all because my stepmom’s new bodyguard couldn’t keep his goddamned pants zipped.”
“Excuse me?” Outrage stormed Chase’s system. “For the love of God, I did not sleep with that woman, okay?”
Shelby’s eyes widened, her expression morphing from shock to anger. “You! You’re the douchebag who slept with Katherine?”
“Did I lapse into Chinese? ‘Cause I’m pretty certain I just said I didn’t sleep with anyone.” He did his best not to let his fury seep into his tone, but from the way she charged at him, he failed. Get used to it, man. People doubting his word would become par for the course these days now that he was officially an ex-con, but the fact she didn’t believe him still rankled for some reason, dammit. “For the last freaking time. I. Did. Not. Sleep. With. Katherine. Bryant.”
Shelby stepped up nose to nose with him--or nose to neck, given their height difference—an
d jabbed her finger into his chest. “Listen, asshole. I’m going to find out who killed my dad. And when I do, I’m going to take my time and savor ripping the bastard’s balls off, nice and slow and infinitely painful. Understand?”
Chase gazed down at her, an odd admiration pounding through his veins. Her eyes blazed with conviction. She smelled of flowers and sweet redemption. At that moment he didn’t think about his purpose for being in Warren Bryant’s office or his criminal record or her threats against her father’s murderer. In fact, at that moment all he could think about was Shelby Bryant.
* * *
He smelled like heaven. Like sandalwood and soap and warm, clean male.
That was Shelby’s first unwanted thought as she got all up in the guy’s grill. Odd, really, but then her entire life had been thrown topsy-turvy the past couple of days and grief over her dad’s death had made her decidedly off-kilter.
With mere inches separating them now and her index finger pressed firmly against his hard chest, his heat enveloped her, seeped into her, warming the cold dark places her dad’s murder had created. Which was bad. So very, very bad. This asshole could very well be responsible for her dad’s death. Oh, she knew he hadn't actually done it. She'd seen the video of the man running out. She knew he'd been in the condo with Katherine. The timing wasn't right. He was probably just a dumb pawn in Katherine's game.
But he didn't seem dumb. Not like Katherine's usual boys. This one had an innocence to him, too. Dammit. She needed to focus on looking for clues, not being swayed by the hint of the tattoo that peeked out from beneath the left side of his starched shirt collar. Definitely not at how tall and broad he was or the sexy glint in his warm gray eyes.
No matter what this guy had or hadn't done, she didn't take Katherine's cast offs. For all she knew he was in here trying to obscure evidence at Katherine's request.
“And I didn’t kill your father.” His words emerged rough, deep, more growl than speech.
She didn’t miss the way his gaze dropped to her lips before returning to her eyes.
No. This was ridiculous. She would not allow herself to be sidetracked. Not again. She would not allow herself to be the normal, quiet, gullible Shelby who always saw the bright side of life. The killing of her dad had changed all that overnight.
Shelby poked him hard once more, just for good measure. “Of course you’d say that.”
“I said it because it’s the truth.” Each word grated past his firm lips like a curse. “Listen, lady. I just got out of prison, for Christ’s sake. Why the hell would I want to go back?”
Well, that was a kicker. Shelby settled her weight onto her heels, increasing the space between them slightly. If she sprinted for it, she might make the door before him. Then again, given the power lurking in his long legs, maybe not. Her voice emerged more hesitant than she’d intended. “You were in prison?”
“Yes.” The word seemed painful for him to say. “Not for murder though.”
“Oh.” She took another step back. “For what then? Mr.?”
“Evans. Chase Evans. And it was for drug trafficking.” He shook his head and looked away. “It’s a long story.”
So much for distracting him with conversation. She eyed him up and down. “How’d you get a job with Rockford Security if you have a criminal record. Isn’t there some kind of law against that?”
“No. No law. And Blake trusts me.”
Well, I don’t.
They stared at each other for a few beats and Shelby forced her tense shoulders to relax. “Why are you here?”
“I’m looking for evidence to prove I didn’t kill your father.” Chase kept his gaze focused on her as he said it, as if willing her to believe him. Under different circumstances, Shelby might have. After all, she was known for taking in strays. Men, animals. Hell, she even ran a local shelter for unwanted pets. And this guy certainly fit the feral bill—dark, dangerous, deeply wounded.
Shelby shook off her fanciful thoughts. Was he telling the truth? If so, he wasn't working with Katherine. She felt ridiculously relieved at the thought, but she wasn't about to trust the tall stranger. “Well, I’m sorry, but you can’t be in here.”
He snorted. “And you can? Last time I checked there was crime scene tape all over that doorway. This is where the murder took place, right? If so, then technically we’re both contaminating a crime scene.”
Her breath hitched at the mention of her dad’s demise and tears welled in her eyes. Shit. The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of this guy. It just hurt so damned bad. Like her heart had been ripped out. Despite her somewhat tenuous relationship with her father and all his nefarious deeds, she’d loved him deeply. He’d been the only family she’d had after her mom had walked out all those years ago.
She turned away and swiped her hand under her eyes. At least the place wasn’t covered in blood and gore. The police hadn’t said how he’d died when they’d called to inform her. Only that he was gone.
Gone. Dad’s gone and I’m alone.
Stubbornness and grief bubbled inside her. “He was my family. I have every right to be here.”
Cursing, Chase stormed past her and headed behind the desk. “Well, I’m not leaving until I get what I came for.”
She winced as he yanked opened the same empty drawers she’d inspected minutes earlier. “There’s nothing in there. I already looked.”
“Well, I’m looking again.” Chase bent and peered beneath the desk then laughed. “Huh, now what have we here?”
She joined him. “What?”
“Looks like a secret safe.”
“Dad always said he had a hidden safe, but I never guessed it was under the desk...” Her father had mentioned keeping his most secret documents in the hidden safe and she’d been trying to figure out where it was during her search. Did Katherine know about it? If so she'd probably taken anything incriminating, but if not...
Chase had already ripped the rug aside and was frantically working the buttons trying to break the code.
"Stop that. You'll set off the alarm." Shelby pushed him aside. The contents of the safe wasn't any of this Neanderthal's business, but the way she saw it this might be her only chance to open it. She crouched and punched in a code her father had given her for one of the home safes years ago, praying he’d used the same one. Her birthday. The door cha-chunked open and they both squinted inside. “Do you see anything?”
“Just this.” He reached past her and pulled out a plain manila folder. “Must be something important to lock it up like that.” He flipped it open then whistled. “Nice.”
Shelby stared at the paperwork he held. One packet was the prenuptial agreement Katherine had signed when she’d married Dad. The other was the Last Will and Testament of Warren Bryant. “So? Neither of those proves anything.”
He perused the paperwork, glancing up at her from time to time before setting them aside and crossing his arms, his expression unreadable. “Tell me about your inheritance.”
“Excuse me?”
“You inherit almost everything. Katherine gets only ten percent.” Chase frowned down at the will. "It goes straight to you unless you are otherwise unable to inherit."
"What's that mean?" Shelby vaguely remembered her dad talking about protecting the casino. He'd worried about her sinking everything into her animal rescue business.
"It's an old clause, means if you become incapacitated somehow, unable to run the business normally." Chase glanced up at her. "Looks like you are perfectly capable of running the business normally."
“What are you talking about?” Mortified heat crept up her cheeks. Her dad had insisted she be his beneficiary, but she didn’t care at all about his dirty money or his casino. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”
“And what exactly is that?”
“That I killed my dad to get my inheritance.”
“Did you?”
“Hell. No.”
“Well, neither did I.”
Shelb
y frowned. “What about that prenup? Katherine certainly had motive. She’s wanted out for years but wouldn’t get much if she divorced him.”
Chase picked up the file again. “According to these, she’d get even less if he died.”
Hot tears stung Shelby’s eyes again and she sniffled despite herself. “I don’t want my dad’s money. I just want him back.” Angry at Chase for interrupting her search and angry at herself for breaking down in front of him, she lashed out. “Just go. Get out of here before I alert the police.”
He left without another word.
5
Chase stared across the worn wooden table at the detective questioning him. He’d been stuck in this dingy little room for over an hour already and this woman had finally decided he was worth her precious time to show up. Upon entering, she’d said her last name was Moore and she now watched him with a suspicious, narrowed gaze as she shifted in her seat across the table from him and opened the file in front of her. The single overhead light hanging above them cast her ebony skin and dark eyes into harsh shadows and he had a crazy vision of her as a hawk and him as the prey.
He did his best not to fidget under her occasional piercing stares, when she deigned to look up from her paperwork. Heat prickled his skin beneath his frayed denim jacket and he longed to slide his finger beneath the stiff collar of his starched shirt and loosen his tie, but damn if he’d give Detective Moore the satisfaction of knowing how nervous he was. After all, he’d been here before and that time had turned out less than spectacular.
Finally, Detective Moore sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. “So, Mr. Evans. Why don’t you tell me what happened? Perhaps we can cut a deal.”
The last thing he wanted was to get on this woman’s bad side, not when she was in charge of his case, but he wouldn’t confess to something he hadn’t done. Not again. He cleared his throat then swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”