by Kat Martin
When she saw Jonah tonight, she would tell him about the encounter, see what he had to say.
As she walked into the living room of her town house, she felt a thrill of anticipation at the thought of seeing him at the Derby.
Jonah was smart and, from what she could tell, extremely capable. Beyond that, he was the sexiest man she had met in years.
Until now, her taste had never run toward a guy who looked more like a biker than a businessman, but she couldn’t deny the attraction. When Jonah walked into a room and looked at her with those dark, brooding eyes, she could almost feel the heat sparking between them.
She wasn’t a fool. She knew when a man was interested. Unfortunately, a guy who looked like Wolfe attracted legions of women. She had no interest in a man who probably slept with a different woman every night. If she gave in to the attraction she felt for him, she could be letting herself in for trouble.
Fortunately, Jonah was a professional. Until the case was resolved, nothing was going to happen. She was off-limits—at least for the time being.
April sighed as she sat down at her computer to start her research. She had work to do, but the anticipation remained. She was meeting Jonah tonight at the Derby. She couldn’t act on the attraction she felt for him, but there was no reason she couldn’t enjoy herself.
* * *
AFTER HE LEFT the café, Jonah returned to the Max for a while. He spent an hour digging around on his computer but came up with nothing new.
It was time to bring in the big guns so he phoned ahead, then climbed into his black Range Rover and headed for Tabitha Love’s old brick house in Richardson not far from the university.
As he walked up the cement path to the porch, the door swung wide and a tall young woman stood in the opening. She had very short black hair, shaved on the sides and moussed on top, a little silver hoop in one of her sleek black eyebrows and a row of hoops down the side of each ear.
She also had a tongue stud and a nose ring. She looked like a woman who should have an unusual name like Tabitha Love.
“Wolfe! Come on in.”
As he walked past her into the living room, he bent and brushed a light kiss on her cheek. “How’s it going, Tab?” She was pretty but far from his type. Lucky for him, she had no interest in him, either.
Tabby had a geeky boyfriend named Lester Lewis she was crazy about, plus she wasn’t that fond of cops—even the ex-variety.
Still, they were friends.
She led him through a living room cobbled together in a sort of dark wood shabby chic, with bookshelves and end tables she had purchased from a thrift store. Brown shag carpet covered the floor.
“When you called to say you were coming out, you mentioned this had something to do with the murder of the mayor’s campaign manager,” she said, leading him down the hall into a bedroom converted to an office that was wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling computers and high-tech equipment.
This was Tabby’s world and she thrived in it.
“His name was David Dean.” As succinctly as possible, he filled her in on the case, her eyebrows going up at the rape/self-defense theory of Dean’s murder and April’s certainty the story wasn’t true.
“I’ve got three names. I need to find out if any of those names are connected to David Dean other than as campaign staffers who worked for him.” He rattled off Peggy Watt, Brad Schweitzer and Collin Rutherford’s names. “You may need to go deep, Tab.”
“No worries, I can handle it. It may take a while, but if there’s smoke, I’ll find the fire.”
“I know you will. Thanks, kiddo. I’ll let myself out.” Which he hadn’t needed to say since Tab’s attention was already focused on the computer screen.
Jonah closed her front door, climbed into the Rover and drove back to the office.
Maybe his trip to the Derby that night would turn up something or at least eliminate possibilities. In the meantime, he hoped Tabby would uncover the one thing he couldn’t seem to find—a motive for David Dean’s murder.
CHAPTER SIX
THE DERBY WAS quiet when April walked in a little before seven that evening. With all the smooth dark wood, the long, ornate bar and forest-green accents, the place felt slightly old-fashioned. The racehorse pictures on the walls were a favorite of everyone, and the staff was always friendly.
April recognized the bartender, Ian Van Horne, as she approached. Ian was a good-looking, sandy-haired guy close to her age. He’d asked her out a couple of times, but she was always too busy. The truth was she could never work up any interest.
Ian spotted her and waved. Since she didn’t see Jonah, she headed for the bar and climbed up on one of the green vinyl stools, the skirt of her sleeveless black sheath dress riding up as she settled herself. She pulled the skirt back down as Ian walked over.
He wiped off the bar in front of her. “I heard what happened the other night. Man, that sucks.”
“Yeah, it does.”
“You ask me, the bastard deserved a bullet in the chest. Or maybe you should have aimed lower—shot him in the nuts instead.”
Her mind flashed back to the bedroom, the sheet soaked in bright red blood, and suddenly she felt dizzy. She swayed a little on the bar stool, caught the shadow of a man beside her, felt Jonah’s hand at her waist, steadying her.
“It’s all right. Just take it easy.” He looked over at Ian. “Cut the crap. She doesn’t need that tonight.”
Ian took one look at Wolfe’s dark expression and took a step back. “Sorry.” He turned to April. “I wasn’t thinking, April. I’m sorry.”
She released a shaky breath. “It’s okay. Something like that doesn’t happen every day.”
“What are you drinking?” Ian asked. “It’s on the house for both of you.”
“Thanks, I’ll have a glass of Chardonnay.”
“What about you?” he asked Jonah. “House is buying.”
“Johnnie Walker on the rocks.”
“Coming right up.”
The place was starting to fill, as it usually did this time of night. They moved to a table in the back and Lou, a friendly blonde waitress, came over with Jonah’s drink.
“I heard about the other night,” Lou said to April. “I’m real sorry, hun.”
“Me, too.”
She set the drink on the square oak table. “You know, I always thought that Dean guy was a pretty straight shooter. I wouldn’t have pegged him for one of those scumbags who has to drug a woman to get her in bed.”
“The police aren’t exactly sure what happened.”
Lou glanced at Wolfe, who had definitely snagged her attention. He was wearing black jeans, a navy T-shirt and a lightweight black leather jacket. A shadow of beard darkened his jaw. The man was a walking ad for sex, which Lou didn’t miss.
The woman might be older than Jonah, but she wasn’t dead yet.
“You ever have a problem here with women being drugged?” Jonah asked her.
“Nothin’ like that’s ever happened here before,” Lou said. “The owner’s real strict. Anybody caught with drugs is out of a job.”
“Good to know.”
Lou left to wait on another customer, leaving Jonah to enjoy his drink.
“Were Lou and the bartender both here the night Dean was killed?” Jonah asked.
“They were both here. They work the early shift so they’re usually here when we come in after work.”
“Any other employees here that night?”
“There was another cocktail waitress working. Her name’s Vicky. But now that I think about it, Lou was the one who waited on us that night.”
Jonah leaned back in his chair, stretching those long legs out in front of him, his eyes roaming over the customers scattered around the room, missing nothing.
April shifted in her seat. “Something happened today that I wante
d to mention.”
His gaze sliced to hers, dark and disturbing, making her heart beat faster. Just looking at him made her think of sex. Was she really that needy? Or was it Jonah Wolfe?
“What happened?” he asked.
“I stopped at the office and talked to my boss. He thinks I should accept the blame for the murder, just say it was self-defense and make it all go away. He insinuated I’d lose my job if I didn’t. I understand that would be best for his political ambitions, but...”
“But...?”
“But I’m not sure he didn’t have a different motive, something more than just winning the election.”
“You think Rydell could have been involved in Dean’s murder?”
“When I got home, I did a little digging. So far I haven’t found anything that would connect the two of them outside of work.” She crossed her legs and the skirt of her black sheath rode up again, attracting Jonah’s attention.
For an instant before he shuttered the look, a hot gleam flashed in his eyes. April’s stomach contracted and desire unfolded like butterfly wings in her stomach.
She couldn’t remember the last time a man had attracted her so strongly. Maybe no man ever had.
Jonah took a drink of his scotch. “You’re in over your head, April. Murder’s a dangerous game. You’d be wise to let me do the digging. You never know where something like this could lead.”
“I need to know what happened. I can’t get on with my life until I find out the truth.”
“Then we’d better get going.” Jonah shoved back his chair and stood up, reached a hand down to help her to her feet. A tingle moved up her arm. “I’ll walk you to your car,” he said, and began guiding her toward the door.
Walking beside him as they made their way through the bar, April felt feminine in a way that rarely happened. She reminded herself how dangerous it was to let her attraction grow and pulled her hand away.
The air outside was warm and humid, only a sliver of moon overhead. Not wanting to retrace her steps the night of the murder, she had parked her car in front.
“So what do you think?” she asked as they paused for a moment on the sidewalk. “Did you learn anything useful in there?”
“Maybe. I think we may have narrowed down the list of who might have drugged you. I don’t think it was one of the Derby employees.”
“You don’t?”
“I didn’t see any indication. The owner runs a clean operation and none of the staff showed any signs of nerves when they talked to you. That leaves the five people from your office who were sitting at your table. Which one encouraged you to take Dean home?”
She tried to think back. Her memories were clear until the moment she had climbed into her car. “I don’t know. Everyone seemed to think it was a good idea. I don’t remember who suggested it first.”
Jonah’s cell phone rang as they crossed the sidewalk to the curb where her vehicle was parked, a three-year-old BMW 320 sedan. Good for work yet small enough to feel sporty.
He stopped to take the call but April kept walking, making her way behind the car, pausing just past the rear fender to dig out her keys.
She didn’t see the dark sedan speeding toward her until headlights appeared at the edge of her vision. She screamed the instant before Jonah slammed into her from behind, sending both of them flying toward the opposite side of the street, knocking her out of the path of the oncoming vehicle.
At the last second, Jonah must have turned midair, using his body as a shield, taking her weight on top of him as they landed, skidding across the rough black asphalt, her dress riding up, the bodice tearing, the front gaping open.
The car shot past, its engine revving, tires squealing as it disappeared into the darkness. April fought to battle down her fear and catch her breath. Her mind was spinning, her heart racing. It took a moment to realize she was still lying on top of Jonah, probably crushing him, his arms wrapped tightly around her.
Thank God he was wearing his leather jacket, she thought in some far corner of her mind. “My God, Jonah, you saved my life.”
* * *
FOR AN INSTANT, Jonah tightened his hold, grateful he’d been able to reach April in time. Grateful she wasn’t dead.
Cars coming down the lane slowed to a stop. Headlights illuminated the two of them lying on the pavement. April was shaking as she lifted herself away from him and Jonah followed, coming to his feet. Ignoring the scrapes on his hands, the dirt and cuts in his leather jacket and the rip in his jeans, he led her back to safety on the curb in front of the Derby.
He could hear voices inside but apparently no one had heard the commotion out in the street. April’s high heels were gone, the bodice of her sexy black dress ripped and hanging open, exposing the tops of her pretty breasts above a lacy black bra.
Without the shoes, she was inches shorter than he was. Her eyes were big and blue and filled with the remnants of fear.
“Jonah...” she said softly.
At the plea in her voice, the last of his control vanished and he pulled her into his arms. “It’s all right, honey. You’re safe. Everything’s okay.”
She was shaking all over. A shudder rippled through her body as she buried her face in the curve of his neck and just hung on. He thought she would start crying but only a sob escaped. Then her shoulders straightened, she pulled in a shaky breath and eased away.
April looked up at him. “The car didn’t stop.”
“No.”
“Were they...were they trying to kill me?”
“It looks that way. Come on. I’ll take you home.” Where he planned to spend the night. She was his client. She was right. He felt responsible for her. He wasn’t going to let her end up like David Dean.
“Should we call the police?”
He would—if he had a plate number or a decent description of the hit-and-run vehicle beyond a dirty white four-door sedan—one of thousands in the city. Unfortunately, he’d only had seconds, barely enough time to keep April from getting killed.
“We don’t have a plate number or anything else. We’ll call Detective Ford when we get you home and settled. Let him know what’s going on.”
She didn’t object when he led her to his black Land Rover and helped her climb in, let him fasten her seat belt across what he now knew to be soft, very feminine breasts. She was shaken up and he didn’t blame her.
He drove out of the parking lot and headed for her town house on Bowser, where he had been before.
“What about my car?” she finally asked, as if the thought had just occurred.
“We’ll pick it up tomorrow.” He drove along in silence, giving her time for the adrenaline to wear off. An occasional tremor still slipped through her.
“Who do you think it was?”
“I’d say whoever killed Dean or someone the killer hired.”
April fell quiet, digesting the situation in which she suddenly found herself. They had almost reached her town house when she asked the question that had been on his mind since the incident.
“How did they know where to find me?”
Jonah flicked her a sideways glance. “Did you tell anyone where you were going tonight?”
“No.”
“Then they were probably watching your house. You drove to the Derby from home, right?”
“That’s right.” Her eyes widened as the implication sank in and she sat up straighter in the seat. “What if they come after me at home, Jonah? What if they try to kill me again?”
A shot of fury rolled through him, a warning his job had become far too personal. It was followed by a rush of dark anticipation.
“If they come after you they’re going to be very sorry.” He pulled open his scratched and battered black leather jacket, showing her the Glock 19 in his shoulder holster. “Because I’ll be there waiting to say hello.”
> CHAPTER SEVEN
APRIL BROUGHT PILLOWS and sheets out to the living room to make up the sofa. Jonah was spending the night. He was there to keep her safe and she wasn’t about to argue. She still saw David Dean’s lifeless, bloody body every time she closed her eyes.
Or the car careening toward her at breakneck speed.
She told herself it was probably standard operating procedure for a private detective to provide protection for one of his clients if they were in danger. It was nothing more than that, she was sure, though she found herself hoping it was.
Considering the bad luck she’d had with men, she knew her attraction for Jonah was dangerous, but it didn’t stop her from hoping he was there because he was beginning to care for her, at least a little.
The thought dredged a memory of her last serious relationship. She had fallen hard for Roger Kosky, a professional baseball player. She had stupidly believed Roger loved her, believed him when he’d said his legion of female fans meant nothing.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
When she’d found out he was cheating just days after he’d bought her an engagement ring, she felt like a fool. She had vowed then and there to choose the men she dated a lot more carefully.
Which was probably the reason she rarely dated at all and hadn’t had sex in over a year.
Now there was Jonah. Exactly the kind of man she should run away from screaming. Instead, she fantasized about what he would be like in bed.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
For the moment, she needed Jonah’s protection. She trusted him to keep her safe and tonight he had proven her instincts were right. She thought of the scene in front of the Derby and shivered, thinking how close she had come to death.
If Jonah hadn’t been there...
Forcing the thought away, April spread open the sheet, bent over the sofa and started tucking it in. A few feet away, she could hear Jonah’s deep voice on his cell phone, talking to his friend, Detective Ford.