Driftwood Cove--Two stories for the price of one

by Debbie Mason

  He frowned. “Cherry?”

  “Don’t make me doubt my faith in you, my boy.”

  Michael laughed. “You sound like GG.”

  “Yes, well, her influence is still widely felt at the manor.” He murmured something under his breath that Michael didn’t quite catch, but it sounded like More than you’ll ever know.

  Before he had a chance to question him about the remark, Jasper said, “I believe that Ms. Angel has come to the same conclusion as you and I about her uncle’s disappearance. And while I understand from Aidan that he’s never come across anyone with Ms. Angel’s abilities, I’m afraid those very same attributes will be her downfall in this instance. If she thinks Danny Costello has anything to do with Charlie’s disappearance, she’ll go after him, and she’ll go after him alone. Because that woman”—he tapped the glass—“has never had anyone to depend on and has learned to fight her battles on her own. Show her that she can depend on you, Master Michael. Show her that, and you both might have a second chance.” He patted Michael’s shoulder before walking away. “She deserves one, and so do you.”

  There was nothing more Michael wanted than for Shay to trust him, but after he questioned her, he’d be the last person she’d turn to for help. If there’d been any way out of this, he’d have found it. The best he’d been able to do was get rid of his partner so that Michael was the one to question her and not James.

  The federal branches of law enforcement shared information—and gossip—on a regular basis, so it wasn’t surprising that word of Shay’s undercover heroics had reached James’s ears. As his partner knew, those attributes that Jasper so obviously admired, and for the most part Michael did too, could just as easily be used to wrought vengeance as justice.

  Drawing in a fortifying breath, he opened the door to the bar. It had yet to fill up. No one had joined Cherry on the barstools, and she was evidently still doing her best to ignore Shay. A group of old-timers had pulled a couple of tables together at the other end of the pub near the stage.

  Shay looked up from wiping down the bar as he approached, saying something to Cherry under her breath. He couldn’t tell if she was disappointed or relieved that he hadn’t left with Jasper. In the next fifteen minutes, there’d be no doubt as to how she’d feel.

  Cherry popped off the barstool. “I told you exactly what your problem is this morning,” she said to Shay over her shoulder. Then she stopped and her head swiveled like Linda Blair in the Exorcist and her heavily made-up eyes landed on Michael.

  Shay looked about as freaked out as he felt. “Cherry, don’t you dare—”

  Cherry ignored Shay, who’d tossed the towel and was coming around the bar. “Just ignore her,” Cherry said, looping her arm through his and fast-walking him toward the tables. “She’s soooo crusty these days, but it’s not her fault. The poor thing hasn’t gotten lucky in ten years. Can you believe it? Ten years!”

  “I swear to God, Cherry, I’m going to murder you. Don’t listen to a word she says, Michael. The woman’s a lunatic.”

  “I am not. I’m not the one threatening to murder their best friend, am I? Do you see what I have to live with, Mikey?” She sighed when Shay reached out and hauled them both to a stop. “Come on, you were friends with benefits before, and you really, really could use some benefits, Shaybae. What do you say, are you up for it, Mikey?”

  “Yeah, what do you say, Mikey? Are you up for it?” a familiar voice asked from behind them.

  Of all the pubs in town, he had to walk into this one. “James, what are you doing here? You were supposed to be talking to the medical examiner,” Michael said to his partner.

  “I talked to him on my way here. I had a feeling you might need me, partner. Ladies.” James nodded at Shay, who still looked like she wanted to murder Cherry, who was staring at his partner like a starving woman presented with a five-course meal. Brow furrowed, James looked from Cherry to Michael. “She’s not having a seizure, is she?”

  Shay nudged her. “Snap out of it. You’re scaring the man.”

  “It’s him.”

  “Him, who?”

  “You know. Him, him, my tea-leaf lover.”

  Shay rubbed a hand over her eyes and then blew out a breath. “Sorry, I’m Shay Angel, and this is Cherry. Why don’t you grab a table, and I’ll have someone come and take your order.”

  Cherry raised her hand to her hair, flicking it into Michael’s eyes. “Sorry,” she said, and then pushed out her chest and head in an odd move he supposed she might think was sexy. “Hello, I’m Cherry. Cherry Blossom,” she said in a breathy voice.

  “All right, Marilyn, let the men grab a table while you and I take Roxy for a walk.”

  Focused on James, Cherry waved off Shay. “You take her. Just be careful. She nearly let her freeze to death this morning,” she added conspiratorially to James, who raised his eyebrows at Michael.

  James then turned to Shay. “Ms. Angel, you sound like a dangerous woman. I’ve been here less than three minutes, and I’ve heard you threaten to murder your friend and hear you’ve nearly frozen her dog to death.”

  Shay’s eyes narrowed. “You sound like you have something you want to say, Special Agent James. Go ahead, the floor is yours.”

  “Since you and Pretty Boy are such good friends, I think I’ll let him do the honors of interrogating you.”

  Despite Michael’s urge to drop-kick his partner, he stayed focused on Shay. If he hadn’t been, he would’ve missed the quick flash of what looked to be betrayal before a resigned acceptance crossed her face.

  Shay glanced toward a group of men as they entered the pub and took their places on the stools. “You and Pretty Boy will have to wait.” She waved over an older woman with burgundy hair. “Denise will look after you, and I’ll be with you when I can.” Her voice was as cold as her beautiful, expressionless face. “Cherry, come give me a hand.”

  “But I…” Her eyes narrowed on Shay, and then she frowned at James and Michael. “I’m buying new tea leaves,” she said, and stomped after Shay.

  Michael debated going after Shay but could tell by her ramrod-straight back and angry stride that it wouldn’t do him any good. “That was a bullshit move, James.”

  “So was you trying to ditch me,” James said as he grabbed a seat at the closest table. “Right now, your ex-girlfriend is the closest thing we have to a suspect. So either you can do the job or you can’t. It’s no sweat off my nose. If you can’t, I’ll request your transfer to white-collar crimes as soon as we get back to HQ.”

  “Really? You want me gone so bad you’re willing to railroad an innocent woman?”

  James might skirt the rules and put a toe over the line every now and again, but he grew up in what some considered to be one of the worst neighborhoods in Boston and had no doubt seen his fair share of friends get the shaft because of where they lived and the color of their skin. James shifted uncomfortably on the barrel. “Come on, you saw the text.”

  “Yeah, and it’s like we both read different ones. We can’t actually verify that it was Charlie who sent the text because it was a burner phone, and even if it was his registered phone, there would be no way of knowing it came from him—”

  “Geezus, you lawyers are all the same. Get to the freaking point.”

  “The point is, Charlie was scared. They’re all scared, and none of them know who’s out to get whom. So Charlie thinks Fast Eddie, our vic, offed Fat Tony—”

  “Right, Fat Tony who we now know Suzy Sunshine used to call Uncle Tony.”

  Michael glanced at Shay behind the bar. “You didn’t just call her Suzy Sunshine, did you?”

  James chuckled. “Good one, right?” He shifted to look at Shay. “Seriously, man, that is one smoking-hot woman. I can see why you’re still hung up on her, but you can’t let your feelings mess with your head or your…” He gave Michael’s lap a meaningful nod. “The bodies are starting to pile up, and this ain’t over yet.”

  His partner made two very good points, a
nd Michael looked away from the smoking-hot woman behind the bar. But not before she noticed and leveled him with a deadly glare.

  “You see, that right there, that’s some scary shit. That woman’s fierce.”

  She was. And sadly, for Michael, that was one big turn-on. “She is, and everyone across three counties knows it. Which is why Charlie claimed Shay would hunt down whoever had Tony killed and ensure they suffered the same fate. He knew Fast Eddie would believe him. But I have no doubt Shay can provide us with an alibi.”

  He just needed to talk to her before she did because, according to the ME report, Fast Eddie was killed somewhere between midnight and three in the morning. And if Shay used Michael as an alibi, they both could have a problem if it came out she’d fired on a federal agent, who admittedly had broken into her house.

  As to her uncle Tony, Michael planned to have a word with her about that too. She was making it difficult for him to protect her. He had a feeling that after tonight, he was going to have a hard time selling that he was actually trying to protect her.

  “You better hope—” James broke off as the older woman with burgundy hair approached the table. “Denise, is it? I’m Special Agent James, and this is my partner Special Agent Gallagher. Would you mind answering a few questions for us?”

  She glanced at the bar and then whispered, “It’s about Shay threatening to kill Gerry Noles, isn’t it? The man was shaking in his boots. I told Charlie he shouldn’t let her work here, on account of her being an ex-con and all. But he wouldn’t hear it. Terrible thing, guilt. It’s like I always tell him, though, blood shows. Her parents, they were the real criminals. Low level, but they had ties to the higher-ups in the New England mob.

  “Never wanted to say anything to Charlie, but I heard rumors Shay there’s a hit woman. You ever seen her shoot a gun? Lordy.” She nodded. “Wouldn’t surprise me at all if she was.”

  James raised an eyebrow at Michael while smiling at the woman. “You’ve been very helpful, Denise. Very helpful indeed.”

  Chapter Ten

  Afraid of what she’d do or say if she stayed, Shay stormed from the bar and out the back door. It felt a little like she was running, and that bothered her almost as much as the accusation she thought she saw in Michael’s eyes. She slid behind the wheel of her car and revved the engine, about to throw it in gear when Cherry grabbed the handle on the passenger door and wrenched it open.

  “You forgot us,” she grumbled as she put Roxy in the backseat and climbed in beside Shay, snapping on her seat belt.

  “Sorry,” she said, and hit the gas, turning onto South Shore Road with a squeal of tires.

  “You don’t have to worry about the FBI trying to frame you for murder; they’re going to throw you in jail for recklessly endangering your best friend and her dog!” Cherry cried, clinging to the strap above the passenger window with both hands, her shiny black boots wedged against the dash.

  Shay rolled her eyes. “Relax, I know what I’m doing. It’s not as if I’m going a hundred…” She glanced at the speedometer and eased off the gas. “Sorry.”

  She should’ve calmed down before she got behind the wheel or punched something to get rid of her pent-up fury…and hurt. That was worse than the anger. No one would ever know how much it hurt that Michael thought her capable of murder. It didn’t matter that he said his questions were simply standard operating procedure given Charlie’s damning text; she’d seen the hint of doubt in his eyes.

  She’d been surprised he’d been able to pierce her defenses. She supposed she shouldn’t be. His opinion had always mattered to her. He’d made her want to change, to be better, to reinvent herself so that she fit in his world. If only she could go back and shake the girl she used to be. She’d tell her to run in the other direction when he first approached her on Main Street on that hot summer’s day.

  “It’s okay. Roxy didn’t even slide off the backseat,” Cherry said, glancing over her shoulder as she let go of the strap and lowered her boots from the dash. “Maybe you should give up the security business to become a NASCAR driver. You’ve got the need for speed down, and the driving on two wheels when you take a corner. It was hair raising in the moment, but even I can tell you have what it takes.”

  Shay felt like clunking her head on the steering wheel. All she wanted was an hour on her own to sort it all out. She wasn’t used to having someone around twenty-four-seven, even if that someone was trying to be supportive. “I know what you’re doing, and it’s not necessary. I’m fine. I’m over it.”

  “You’re not even the least bit worried they can build a case against you? Especially after what that Denise woman overheard? Agent Photoshop James even had me wondering if you’d done it. For a second, I mean. A nanosecond.”

  “So, is that why you stole his wallet?”

  Cherry jerked, bumping her head against the window. “I didn’t steal his wallet. He’s the FBI. I don’t mess with the FBI, even if he is my tea-leaf suitor and hot as—”

  “You might want to check inside your corset.”

  “It’s not a corset. It’s a…I have his wallet.” She whacked Shay with it. “Why did you let me steal it?”

  “A six-foot-two rat with eyes of blue was interrogating me for murder. The same rat who’s looking at my uncle for murder, too, so I’m sorry if all I wanted to do was get out of there.”

  “What am I going to do? I can’t be sent to the big house for this. I’m not like you,” Cherry said with a noticeable tremor in her voice.

  “Relax, you’re not going to jail. I’ll drop you off and go back to the pub once the feds have left and make sure one of the staff finds the wallet.” But first she’d go for a long drive. Alone. For at least two hours. It would give her time to come up with a plan as to how she was going to find Charlie and get out of this mess.

  Cherry leaned across the console and hugged her. “You take such good care of me, Shaybae. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  The temptation to hang her head and groan was there, but she fought against it, knowing her response would hurt Cherry’s feelings. It wasn’t easy, though. She practically broke out in a cold sweat at the thought that Cherry was so dependent on her. “If I don’t figure out who’s behind Tony’s and Eddie’s murders, you just might find out what it’s like to live without me.”

  Cherry gasped, and then her eyes went wide. She frantically patted her chest.

  “Okay, don’t be so dramatic. I was just kidding.” Kind of.

  Pointing to her mouth, Cherry then grabbed her neck with both hands.

  “Are you kidding me? You’re choking?” Shay didn’t wait for an answer and slammed on the brakes.

  With a quick glance, she took in Cherry’s bulging eyes and the purple tinge spreading across her flushed face and threw open the car door. She didn’t look up at the sound of cars honking, tires squealing, doors slamming, or the smell of burned rubber as she raced around to the passenger side. Which might explain why she ran headlong into a man—a long, lean man who stood at least six-two, with a wide chest, strong hands, and a sexy, citrusy scent. She didn’t need to look up to know he had eyes of blue.

  “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

  “Cherry. Choking,” she said, feeling panicked, and Shay didn’t panic. This is what happens when you let people into your life, she thought, aggravated despite her fear.

  At least Michael was levelheaded. He’d opened the door and was talking to Cherry in a low, comforting voice while half lifting her from the car. Shay wondered if his voice calmed Cherry half as much as it did her.

  “Shay,” he said, snapping her out of her daze, “hold the door open.”

  She frowned, wondering what he was talking about when she realized he’d wrapped his arms around Cherry to do the Heimlich maneuver, and the uneven road was causing the door to swing close. She grabbed the edge of the window just before it hit them and heard the poodle whimpering in the backseat.

  “It’s okay, Roxy Roo. Mommy’s goin
g to be okay,” Shay told the dog, then almost immediately rolled her eyes when what she’d said registered. Before Shay could wonder why she seemed to be channeling her friend, Cherry hacked up a lung. Whatever she was choking on flew out of her mouth to ping off the roof of Shay’s car. Cherry coughed again and rubbed her chest, the blue tinge leaving her face.

  Michael helped Cherry sit on the passenger seat to a smattering of applause from the drivers who’d gotten out of their vehicles to watch. Crouching at Cherry’s feet, he pulled out his cell phone. “Anyone call 911?” he directed his question to the now-thinning crowd while those true-blue eyes of his moved over Shay like a hot caress.

  True-blue eyes? A hot caress? What was she, a romance heroine? Less than twenty minutes ago, she’d wanted to punch his pretty face, and now she wanted to kiss those beautiful, sensual lips? She gave her head a slight shake to get rid of the thoughts that were making her hot on one hand and uncomfortable on the other. Then she realized what the problem was. It was a phenomenon common to doctors and cops. The adrenaline rush after a life-and-death situation.

  Michael had saved Cherry, and Shay wanted to jump his bones. Completely normal reaction, she assured herself. Probably more so because the last time she had sex was ten years before, with him, and those memories had inconveniently come flooding back. Good memories. Really, really good memories, and hot too. Burning hot.

  As her gaze moved over his chiseled profile, his broad shoulders and big hands, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to make love to the man he’d become.

  The crowd’s response to Michael’s question pulled her from her messed-up thoughts. Their audience answered in the negative. The general consensus seemed to be that Michael had the situation under control. “I’d feel better if a doctor checked you out. I can call my cousin if you’d like.”

  “That’s a really good idea. I’m feeling kind of weird.”

  Michael cocked his head, a hint of a smile touching his lips. “Shay, I was talking to Cherry.”