The Closer I Get to You (Cochran/Deveraux Series Book 8)

by Melanie Schuster

  “Yeah, you were right, but at what cost? That corn snake was harmless, but it could have just as easily been a coral snake and I don’t have to remind you how poisonous they are. The note that was with the snake read, “Since you like snakes so much, this one is for you”. What do you think that means?”

  Titus made a face. “She had somebody on her show from the Atlanta Zoo or something and she was handling some snakes like they weren’t anything. She’s not afraid of things like that and it apparently enraged the guy enough he decided to go after her this was.”

  “The guy? So you think it’s a man who’s doing this?” Luther inquired, discreetly following the trajectory of Titus’s vision to its target. His expression changed slightly as he watched Titus observing Paris.

  “Actually, I’m not sure at all. The most obvious suspect is a woman, as a matter of fact,” Titus answered. He made an involuntary movement towards Paris when he saw Aidan touch her cheek; he thought for a minute she’d been crying but he could see that she and Aidan were joking around and the sight relieved him greatly. Luther stared at Titus, and then looked at Paris again. He shook his head before speaking.

  “Looky-here, hometown, you and I need to have a talk. I’m about done here, when you wrap it up get me on my cell phone and I’ma let you buy me a steak. We really need to talk, T.”

  ***

  Paris was hard at work a couple of days later. The snake incident was far from forgotten, but in an odd way, the outcome of the situation actually took some of the load off her shoulders. For one thing, even though Titus had been kind enough not to lecture her about rashly opening the package she’d been handed, she felt an odd sense of calm now. She’d been given proof that it wasn’t just paranoia; there really was a nutburger out there with an agenda that involved her. The information should have made her feel scared and squeamish, but somehow knowing that Titus was taking care of things relieved her anxiety. Plus, he had, at her suggestion, informed her staff about what was going on. The agents who’d been assigned to the case were introduced properly at a special staff meeting at which Titus explained the gravity of the situation and elicited a promise that no one would speak of the investigation outside the studio. She had to admit to a certain little thrill when she recalled how serious and handsome he’d looked while issuing the edict and she’d been truly gratified by the reaction of her trusted staffers, including her director, assistant director, the stage manager and everyone else.At that moment her director, Twyla, was eying her with concern. Her pretty round face displayed a puckered brow as she asked the question uppermost in everyone’s mind.

  “Are you sure you’re safe? You know you can stay at my house, no one will think of looking for you there. Besides, I have an uncle who’ll knock the crap out of anyone who looks at you wrong. He was a Navy SEAL and he’ll not only find out who’s doing this, but he’ll take them out, too,” she said in a serious voice.

  Paris smiled at the gravity she saw displayed and reached across her desk to pat Twyla’s hand. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m perfectly fine where I am. Aidan wouldn’t let anyone get to me and Titus has someone posted outside at all times. I feel like I’m living in a fort sometimes, but that’s okay. After the snake thing I decided it couldn’t hurt to be careful so I stopped giving Titus grief and let him do his thing.” She stopped talking to go over her notes again and Twyla jumped in.

  “But you’re being so cool and calm, Paris, I don’t know how you do it. That snake would have sent me packing back to my mama in Flint, Michigan,” she said with a shudder that wasn’t at all phony; she really did fear snakes.

  “It wasn’t poisonous. It looked like a coral snake, but it was a harmless snake with similar markings. It let me know that creep isn’t playing, whoever he is. The note he put in there also let me know he watches the show,” she mumbled, still going over the papers in front of her. The intercom was switched on so she could hear the sounds from the studio. A strain of soft, melodic music made her head come up and her mouth dropped open in shock. The sound was one of her favorite songs, Harbor Lights by Boz Scaggs and only one person could play it like that. She leaped from her seat and raced out of the room with Twyla following her.

  Paris careened into the studio and stopped stock still, with her hands pressed to her cheeks. She screamed and then ran straight into the arms of a tall stranger who rose from his seat at the piano and held his arms out to her.

  “Billy! Oh, sugar, it’s been way too long,” Paris sighed as she snuggled into his arms for a long hug.

  The tall man didn’t answer for a moment; he was too busy squeezing the breath out of Paris. When he finally let go, it was only to step away from her so he could see her better. “Damn, Paris, you’re a knock out. I didn’t think you could get any more gorgeous and look at you now. Come give a brother some love, girl,” he growled as he pulled her into his arms again, this time for a big kiss right on the lips, which is what Titus saw when he entered the studio.

  He didn’t say a word, but his eyes turned to ice and his jaw was so set and tight he could have sliced something with it. Paris finally realized he was in the room and introduced the two men.

  “Billy, this is Titus Argonne. Titus, this is my friend Billy Watanabe. We’ve known each other for years,” she said hurriedly.

  Titus gave a curt nod and left abruptly, without saying a word.

  Billy gave a low whistle and stared down at Paris. “Whoa. Paris, baby, what did you do to that man? If looks could kill I’d be a dead man right about now.”

  Paris’s face grew hot and she hastened to assure Billy that he was imagining things. “Titus and I are, um, friends. He has offices here in the complex and he’s in charge of corporate security for The Deveraux Group. That’s all,” she said in a voice that lacked conviction, something Billy picked up on right away.

  “Right. Tell that to someone who doesn’t know you. You need to let me know if that’s your man or what, because I don’t intend to get shot over you,” he said, laughing at the look on her face.

  Paris frowned. “You’re just sick and wrong, Billy. Sick and wrong.”

  “I may be sick, but I’m not wrong. Something’s going on between you and that man, what is it?”

  I just wish I knew, Paris thought.

  Chapter Twelve

  Paris sat back in the comfortable plush seat of the private corporate jet and leaned into the headrest with her eyes closed. She was exhausted; there was no other word for it. Only a few weeks had passed since the nominations for the Academy Awards had been announced, but the weeks had been full of activity. With February being Black History Month there had been special programs going on all over Atlanta, many of which she had attended as an emcee or presenter or just as an enthusiastic supporter. There were Deveraux Group functions as well, not to mention special programs on Paris & Company. And on top of everything else, she had to find the perfect outfit to wear to the Oscars. Outfits, plural, since there were going to be numerous smaller events to attend with Billy and her own coverage of the weekend for the show. Right now she was merely grateful for the long flight to Los Angeles; at least she could get a little sleep. Or she could if her companions would shut up.

  She was seated next to Perry Turner, the designer who’d created her dress in what seemed like no time at all. Danny Watley, her hairdresser and dear friend from Michigan, was seated across from her next to Billy, and all three men were talking non-stop, or so it seemed to her. She was so happy that Twyla had introduced her to Perry she’d forgive him anything, but Billy and Danny were on very uneven terrain with her right now. She opened her eyes briefly and looked at Perry’s face, handsome even in profile, and sighed with happiness; the man was truly a Godsend. Well, a Reginasend, that was for sure.

  When Billy told her she was coming to the Oscars, the perfect dress became an immediate necessity. Before she could begin to get frantic about it, Twyla made a suggestion. “My Aunt Regina lives in Texas, but her best friend Perry lives in Flint and he’s
a fantastic designer,” she told Paris. “He especially loves to make fancy clothes like wedding dresses and evening gowns. If I ask her, she can have him down here in a heartbeat.”

  And sure enough, Twyla’s Aunt Regina was more than happy to oblige. After a long and chatty conversation with Paris she assured her that Perry would be delighted to create something fabulous for her. “I’ll call him for you right now,” she said in her unique voice. It was deep and sexy and gave the listener the impression that she was about to burst into song any second. Paris commented on this to Twyla, who laughed.

  “She just might do that, she has a beautiful singing voice. My auntie is something else, she can sing, she has two master’s degrees and a pilot’s license, she’s a gourmet cook and a preacher, there isn’t much she can’t do,” Twyla said proudly.

  Perry had agreed at once to create something magnificent and unique for Paris to wear and had come to Atlanta that very weekend to begin the fittings. Paris was totally taken with Perry, it was impossible not to be. He was six-two with warm brown skin, sexy eyes that slanted down at the outer corner, a firmly sculpted mouth and a nicely muscled body. His hair was cut close to his scalp and his moustache and beard were styled with meticulous detail. He worked full time as a plant manager for one of the Big Three automakers, but clothing design was his true passion and he was very, very good at it. He’d created something exquisitely beautiful for Paris so she could hold her head high on the legendary red carpet stroll. He and Danny were talking about the best way for her to wear her hair while she tried to sleep. It was why Danny was flying out to California with her, something that she was very happy about, but if he didn’t shut up soon she was going to try her best to throw him out of the plane.

  “From what you told me about the dress, I think she should wear her hair down to make her look even more feminine,” Danny said. “I said she should wear it up in a classic style and she said something about her butt being too big, which is ridiculous. Everybody’s not meant to have a skimpy behind. I told the heifer she needs to get over it, she’s always talking about losing twenty more pounds but she needs to quit talking about it and accept her body the way it is. I hate to admit it, since my main job is to pick on her, but she looks damned good the way she is.”

  Billy chimed in, which made Paris vow to get him at her earliest opportunity. “Yeah, she really does. When we were in school she was bigger, just as pretty, but bigger. Now she’s almost too skinny. I mean, where’s she gonna take twenty pounds from? Not from the breasts, they look good just the way they are,” he said fervently,

  Perry agreed wholeheartedly. “Oh definitely not the breasts, they’re perfect. And not from the hips either, or the butt. I love a woman with curves and hers are all just right.”

  Billy laughed. “I know someone else who’d agree with that, That Man. I’ll bet he doesn’t want her losing a pound. Not an ounce. He saw me giving her a hello kiss and he almost pulled a gun on me, swear to God he did.”

  All three men laughed, and then Perry had to tell his story of meeting Titus. “I was fitting the muslin shell for the dress the way I always do. I make up a dress in muslin and use it to fit the dress perfectly before I ever cut the dress fabric. I end up writing all over it with a special pen and quite naturally my hands are all over her body while I’m doing this. Well, we were in her office and I’m doing what I do and my hands were on her bust because this is what I’m fitting.”

  Billy and Danny looked at each other and grinned. Perry had to laugh, too. “You can just about guess what happened then. There was a quick knock at the door and in he walked to find me touching his Paris. That Man liked to have lost his mind up in there. I had my hands on his woman’s pretty breasts and he wasn’t having it. Before anybody could say a word he had an Uzi pressed against my temple and suggested I put my hands someplace else in a hurry.”

  Paris spoke without opening her eyes. “I can hear you, you know. I hear all those lies and exaggerations and all I can say is you need to quit. Titus is not my man, and it’s just not that deep so please cut it out.” The fact that they all referred to Titus as “That Man” now was annoying but mildly amusing and she knew when to ignore a joke.

  Perry reached over and gave Paris’s hand a squeeze. “Baby, the truth is the light and all we’re doing is telling the truth. And it shall set you free, my dear.”

  Paris sat up and opened her eyes to look at her tormentors. “I’m telling you all, you’re wrong. Titus and I are not a couple; he’s doing his best to keep that freak from making good on his threats, that’s all. I’m his charge, not his woman,” she said crossly.

  Billy smiled lazily. “Okay, sure. Fine. But if that’s the case, why did he act like he did when you were in the accident?”

  Paris stared at Billy’s handsome bronze face with its mixture of African-American and Japanese features and frowned. His black wavy hair was worn long, down past his shoulders with the top part pulled into a ponytail and the rest flowing down his back. His exotically slanted eyes were merry, and so was his generous mouth, smiling over the stylized goatee he wore. He leaned forward and challenged Paris even more. “Go ahead, baby girl, and tell us why he acted like he did after your accident?”

  Paris leaned back again and closed her eyes. It didn’t pay to have a friend as perceptive as Billy who knew her so well. There was no hiding anything from him.

  ***

  The accident to which Billy referred had occurred two weeks before and the memory of it still made Paris wake up in the middle of the night covered with a fine sheen of perspiration. After the snake episode, the security around Paris increased. She went from resenting the presence of Titus’s agents in her life to welcoming them. There was one woman she liked particularly, a small blonde named Heide. She was tough and fearless and did her job efficiently and discreetly. She was also a good conversationalist and Paris found it easy to chat with her. One Friday night Heide had confided that she was anxious to get home because her daughter had been running a temperature and Paris encouraged her to go straight home.

  “Don’t worry about a thing; you don’t need to trail me. The weather is so rotten only a truly dedicated freak would try something tonight,” she laughed. It was indeed a nasty night, with a thick sleeting rain and slick streets awaiting any drivers. Heide hesitated to go along with this idea but Paris insisted. “I’ll be fine; you go on and see about your baby. I’m driving one of those granny-looking plain Jane corporate cars and I’ll be perfectly safe. If it makes you feel better we can talk on our cell phones all the way home, how’s that?”

  Thus persuaded, Heide finally agreed to the plan and each woman went her separate way, staying in touch via cell phone. The roads were treacherous; the sleet was accumulating and turning into serious ice. In order to stay on the road Paris had to drive slowly and with great caution. She was a good driver but this was unnerving. There were too many people trying to drive too fast to get out of the storm and it created the perfect setting for an accident. Suddenly, the driver directly in front of her slammed on the brakes and the vehicle started spinning out of control. Her eyes widened and her hands gripped the steering wheel even tighter as she watched the car careen into another car. She registered the sickening squeal of brakes and the metallic crash, but her mind was on avoiding her own collision. Paris had no choice; she had to get out of the way and fast. She quickly put her foot on the brake and prepared to slow down to ease into a turn. Instead of slowing down, the car maintained its speed. It actually seemed to go even faster on the black ice of the pavement. She had the sickening realization that the brakes were gone as she repeatedly pressed the pedal, which pumped freely underfoot instead of catching and making the car stop. Pure, unadulterated terror took over as she frantically turned the wheel so she wouldn’t rear-end the driver ahead of her. The car veered to the right and skidded off the pavement, hitting the guardrail and flipping over into the ditch that ran along the roadside. It was all over in mere seconds, with Paris mercifully unc
onscious and miraculously unhurt. Heide had arrived at her home by the time the accident occurred and called 911 immediately, then calling Titus.

  When Paris opened her eyes she was in the emergency room dressed in a hideous hospital gown. She was lying on an uncomfortable table being examined by a calm and competent resident doctor. Titus was there, too. To a stranger he would look calm and in control, but Paris could recognize his mood by the color of his eyes which were the icy silver she’d come to know and dread. She cringed on seeing him; she knew he was furious with her, as he should be. This was all her fault. She should have done what she was directed to do and not involved Heide in her madness. Whatever he had to say to her, she’d have to bear it; whatever he dished out, she’d have to take because this was her bad and her responsibility.

  To her utter surprise he didn’t say anything at all to her; he just stood quietly next to her examining table, holding her hand while the doctor finishing checking her over. She had a bump on her temple and a small cut on her cheekbone, and her neck was stiff and sore from the impact of her airbag. She was rather sore all over, something that would increase overnight. By tomorrow she would feel like crap and look it too, of that she was sure. Titus and the resident helped her sit up and she leaned against Titus’s comforting strength while the doctor looked into her eyes with his little penlight. She didn’t wince when the doctor’s surgically gloved fingers touched the cut on her face, but Titus did. She both heard and felt the sharp intake of his breath as the doctor touched her. Finally he spoke, his deep voice betraying his concern.

  “Is it going to leave a scar?” he asked gruffly.

  “Oh no, it’s not deep at all. I’m not even going to put in stitches, just a butterfly tape and it’ll heal up nicely,” the doctor said cheerfully.