“Good thinking.”
She whipped out her cell phone and offered it to him. “Oops. Not your thing, is it?”
He took it from her anyway.
“Want me to show you how to make a call on this baby?”
“I said I didn’t own a cell phone, not that I didn’t know how to use one.”
Gabe’s pseudoinjured tone sliced through the dark and warmed her insides. Getting even with him for that obsessive-compulsive crack was probably the only satisfaction she was going to get tonight, so she might as well enjoy it.
RENATA’S FIRST THOUGHT when she saw Gideon ensconced in his Club Undercover office was that the deep blue walls were the same shade as the incredible eyes framed by glossy magazine-handsome features and longish blue-black hair slicked back from his face.
“So this is everyone?” she asked, looking around to see Cassandra and Blade already present. “Team Undercover?”
“Those who work at the club,” Gideon said.
Making her wonder if the owner considered the two detectives part of the team since they’d been major participants in other cases. Which made her wonder about her own standing—what would they expect of her?
“Renata, at last we meet,” Gideon said. “Have a seat.”
She nodded. “Gideon.” Then took one of the two vacant chairs before the black and chrome desk, while Gabe took the other.
Gideon began, “Gabe brought me up to date—”
“I know. On my cell phone.” She gave Gabe a sideways glance.
“They come in handy sometimes,” she said, then turned back to the club owner.
A black eyebrow arched over one of those sapphire eyes but Gideon didn’t comment.
Gabe picked up the ball. “I figure we must be getting close to something important.”
“How do you figure?” Renata asked.
“Because now we’re both on the killer’s hit list. First Chinatown, now this.”
“But Fred Woo—”
Gabe cut Renata off, saying, “Probably had nothing to do with the attack unless he’s the mastermind behind everything. More likely, someone followed you and realized you weren’t working alone.”
Though she’d hoped there was no connection between the first two attacks, he could be correct. “I’m sorry. I never should have involved you.”
“Stop apologizing, and again, I involved myself.”
“But I didn’t have to agree to take your help.”
“I can be very determined when I make up my mind about something.”
But why this? she wondered. Why was this situ ation so important to him? Innocent bystanders were killed every day. And she didn’t think he went around willy-nilly trying to right all wrongs.
So why this time? Why Muti Hawass? Why her?
Clearing his throat, Gideon said, “So we have someone who drives a black truck with Michigan license plates. Does that mean anything to you?”
Renata shrugged. “Afraid not.”
Gabe shared his hit man theory.
“Hmm, a Michigan hit man comes to Chicago to kill five unrelated people,” Blade said. “Odd theory.”
“Odd,” Renata echoed, unsure of where to go with this, “but not impossible. The border is only an hour and a half away. I guess we should look deeper to see if the people we’ve identified as wanting the victims dead have a Michigan connection.” It didn’t sound likely, though she didn’t want to discount Gabe’s theory altogether.
“How would this guy even have known you were on his trail?” Blade asked.
She shook her head. Nothing was making sense to her in this case.
Including Gabe’s saying, “You know, Renata, it may be time for you to disappear.”
“What? Run away and hide with my tail between my legs? I don’t think so.”
“Hide in plain sight,” Cassandra said. “We can give you a new identity. I can work magic in the way of a makeover.”
“Makeover?” She couldn’t imagine looking other than she always did.
“I wonder what you would look like as a blonde,” Gabe suddenly said.
“Ridiculous.”
“Redhead is more like it,” Cassandra said. “Not red like mine. More subtle. A red-brown. And shorter.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Turquoise contact lenses,” Gabe added, his lips quirking. “Or maybe violet.”
“What fantasy girl are you describing?” Renata asked him.
“One with a sense of humor.”
So he was poking at her again. Renata narrowed her gaze at Gabe. He simply grinned in return.
“Just for the record,” she said, “I am not doing a disappearing act. No hair dye. No contact lenses. No out-of-character clothing. I have some dignity.”
“They say there’s no dignity in death,” Blade muttered.
Starting to regret agreeing to work with these people, Renata was about to say so, when Gabe put his hand on her arm. “However Renata wants to play it is fine by me. It’s her case, her call.”
“You call the shots,” Gideon agreed.
But Renata wasn’t quite believing it. Part of her suspected they would give her lip service while quietly going about their business in the way they thought best. At least they would if they were anything like Gabe. Still, she needed help from someone.
If she could do this through official channels, she would have a task force at her disposal. That’s how she would think of Team Undercover.
“All right. Then tomorrow, why don’t you all follow the Michigan connection, while Gabe and I see where Chuck LaRoe leads us.”
Gideon nodded and Cassandra said, “Fine with me.”
“How about I follow up on the sharpshooter connection, instead?” Blade suggested. “Not that many people have the talent to do what this guy did, and I know a number of them.”
“Good.”
Talent—sending a bullet into someone’s head. Renata shivered.
And wondered if she really had the stuff it took for this job, after all.
WHEN GABE pulled up before a multi-unit building on a side street she guessed to be about a mile from Club Undercover, Renata said, “I thought you were taking me home.”
“I am. Just not to your home.”
He peered out into the dark through every window as if making sure they didn’t have visitors waiting.
But how could they know where to wait? Renata wondered. She might have been followed earlier, thereby implicating him by association, but that didn’t mean the shooter or any compatriots were aware of Gabe’s identity or of the Club Undercover connection.
Gabe left the car and was around it fast enough to help her out. A little shakier than she figured she ought to be, Renata found it comforting that he wasn’t. Or at least that he didn’t appear to be. Her own anger—and therefore adrenaline—had worn off long ago, and she simply felt too exhausted to deal with anything else tonight.
“So, this is your place,” she asked as they entered the courtyard together. The grounds were landscaped with small trees—leafless at this time of year—and beds of fall plants and flowers that were nearly spent.
“Home sweet home. You can’t go back to your apartment tonight.”
Renata knew he was right. Three times was the charm. She didn’t want to be a sitting duck for whoever was trying to shut her up. And she wouldn’t go to her mother’s home and involve her, either. So it was either a hotel or Gabe’s place. The hotel wouldn’t have a Gabe at her disposal, though. And somehow, even though he was the citizen and she the agent with the weapon, she felt safer with him around.
Why was that? she wondered. How had he gotten so competent at this cops-and-criminals stuff?
Not wanting to know anything that would put her off, she was reluctant to ask him.
When they got inside Gabe’s second-floor apartment, Renata looked around the big, high-ceilinged room with a nice-sized kitchenette. The place was neat. Then again, there wasn’t much furniture to clutter—a sofa an
d matching ottoman, a coffee table, one end table and two stools tucked under the counter, a small table for his computer. That was it.
No personal touches that she could see…almost as if these were temporary digs. Or perhaps he’d moved in recently and hadn’t had the time to put his stamp on the place.
“The bathroom’s over here,” Gabe said, indicating one of two doors along the wall. He opened the other door and pulled out a robe. “You can use this. Fresh from the laundry,” he promised, draping the robe on the back of the sofa.
At which time it hit her that all interior doors were accounted for. No bedroom. This was a studio apartment. One room!
Where in the world would she sleep?
Zeroing in on what had to be a sofa bed, her mouth went dry. And her imagination went off-kilter. For an instant, she could see herself in bed with Gabe, the two of them struggling for top position…
Gabe broke the spell by saying, “I need a drink. What’s your pleasure?”
“A glass of wine would be good.” Thinking he wasn’t a wine kind of guy, she said, “Or a soda would be fine.”
“Wine it is.”
Renata glanced out the window and found herself scouring the street for movement. Anything out of place. Her pulse threaded unevenly. How long would she have to put her life on hold? It would simply be easier, more convenient, to give up. Too bad she wasn’t built that way. Her dad hadn’t been either…and look where it had gotten him.
“Trust me,” Gabe said, handing her a glass of ruby-red wine. “I’ll make sure you stay safe.”
“I’ll sleep on it.”
She gave the sofa bed a skewed look, then realized Gabe had noticed. His eyebrows shot up and his green eyes sparkled and his lips curved into a grin. She braced herself but he didn’t say a word about the sleeping arrangements.
Still, what went unsaid made her jittery.
“Sit,” he said.
If only she could, Renata thought, sitting at one end of the couch. She made sure her skirt was pulled as close to her knees as possible.
“I’m going to call Gideon and let him know we’re clear.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
Since Gabe was on the phone, Renata pulled out her cell phone and checked for messages. Two more calls from her mom, who was getting increasingly concerned. And a text message from her sister Lucille.
where r u
m nuts
Just what she was afraid of—Mom was sitting by the telephone worrying about her.
Renata sent Lucille a text message in return.
tell m undercover
kisses
“Kisses?” came a voice too near to her ear for comfort.
Renata started. Gabe had finished his conversation and was staring at her cell over her shoulder. “Eaves-dropping?”
“If that’s what you want to call it.”
Not about to tell Gabe that she was sending her love to her mom and sister, she shut down her phone. Let him think she was involved with someone she cared about. Then he wouldn’t be making moves on her.
“So you can’t go for a few minutes without something to do, huh?”
“I like to fill my time productively.”
Gabe kept whatever he was thinking to himself as he sat at the other end of the couch. Nervous, Renata dropped the cell phone into her purse and saw Heidi Bourne’s address book—she’d forgotten all about it until now. She pulled it out and started skimming through the pages.
“Heidi Bourne’s sister gave me her address book this afternoon.”
“What do you expect to find in it?”
“I don’t know. Probably nothing.”
“Then why are you filling time going through it?”
“I don’t leave anything to chance.”
“A real multitasker,” he muttered.
Okay, so maybe she was. Besides that, she needed a distraction, something to occupy her thoughts before they went astray. She continued going through the pages of the address book, but nothing jumped out at her. She sneaked a glance at Gabe, who was watching her and sipping his wine. The wine. She hadn’t touched it. Pausing halfway through the address book—she’d gotten to the M’s—she picked up her glass and took a sip.
“You have good taste in wine.”
“Other things, too.”
The way he was looking at her made Renata think the comment was meant to be personal. Warmth filled her cheeks and she wondered if he was going to make a pass at her. They were in an intimate situation, and she couldn’t help but think about how things might turn out.
So when he asked, “Are you sorry you bucked the system yet?” the abrupt question took her by surprise.
“I might not like the results…people I work with not speaking to me or worse, yelling at me…someone trying to kill me…but no, I don’t regret acting on my instincts.” She took a longer swallow of wine and went back to skimming the address book. N…O…P…” This is more than my job. It’s something I had to do. I couldn’t ignore what I thought was right.”
“Family trait?”
“Family trait,” she echoed, checking the last pages of the address book.
When she got to W, she stopped. “FW.”
“FW what?”
“Just the initials. And a phone number you might recognize.”
She showed him the book.
“Fred Woo’s number.” He looked up at her. “We have a connection.”
“One that makes sense,” Renata said. “Congressman Carl Cooper was nailed for giving inappropriate parties on government funds.”
“Which included escort services?”
“Which included escort services,” Renata agreed. “Mae Chin and Heidi Bourne linked.”
Gabe raised his glass of wine. “A toast, then.”
Renata raised her glass and clinked it to his. “To the truth.”
Taking a long sip of wine, Renata felt as if she were soaring. She’d been right to file that report. But how could the S.A.F.E. team have missed this? she wondered. Something she would have to look into.
“Success looks good on you,” Gabe said. “Your dad would be proud. So tell me about him.”
Renata didn’t usually talk about her dad. Her mom got teary-eyed every time Renata brought him up, and her sister always changed the subject. Her friends had swept what had happened under the carpet…and their friendship pretty much along with it. Well, most of them, anyway. Her best friend Megan had remained loyal, but she’d moved away when her new husband had been promoted, his new job meaning an immediate transfer to California.
And Renata certainly couldn’t talk to anyone at work about what had happened.
Maybe she could talk to Gabe.
“Dad was a wonderful man,” she told him. “An outstanding cop. He was investigating a murder. Dad was certain this guy had done it, but the guy had got ten away with criminal activities before. Dad was angry and told everyone it was time the man paid. But the evidence just didn’t support an arrest.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Yeah, uh-oh. Evidence tampering seriously crosses the line. Only Dad wasn’t the one who crossed it. But he’d been so outspoken, fingers pointed at him. He was the one who took the heat. Him and us. The media got hold of the story and hounded us. He was never able to prove his innocence, because before formal charges could be brought against him, he was killed on the job. I think he purposely put himself in a dangerous situation where he…”
She couldn’t talk about it, after all, not without wanting to cry. Not even after all these years. Her eyes misted over and she took another sip of wine.
Gabe reached out and took her free hand. “Renata, I’m sorry.”
The warmth of his fingers intertwined with hers. The simple gesture touched her as it had when he’d offered condolences to Mrs. Chin. Gabriel Connor might be an irritating man when he chose, but he could also be kind.
“Wine makes me sloppy,” she murmured.
“It brings out your humanity. You loved your
dad and I’m sure he loved you. You have great memories of him. That’s a lot more than some people can say.”
Some people? Him?
Her turn to say, “Sorry.”
For a moment, she thought he was going to deny it. Then he shrugged his shoulders like his not having a good relationship with his own father didn’t mean anything to him. Though she knew it must.
“Is there any hope things can change?” she asked.
“No—there never was. My father has been dead to me since I was a teenager. And my worst nightmare is that I become like him, bad genes and all.”
A shiver shot through her at his cold, flat tone, and she wondered what had gone so horribly wrong in that relationship. Not that she was about to ask. He would tell her if he wanted her to know.
Instead, she reached out to Gabe as he had to her. Pulse picking up a beat, she touched his free hand, laced her fingers through his and squeezed. His gaze caught hers and she couldn’t look away. Her breath caught in her throat just before he kissed her.
One touch of his mouth was all it took to make her pulse hum sweetly. He didn’t start slowly as he had the last time but kissed her deeply with an intensity of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. Maybe it was the connection they’d just made talking.
Maybe it was the danger they’d shared earlier. Whatever the reason, Renata knew she wanted nothing more than to spend the night in Gabe’s arms.
Feeling a rising excitement taking over, she splayed her hand against his chest, felt his rapid heartbeat against her palm. Her heart was beating in sync.
And as quickly as Renata was caught up, she was released. Gabe ended the kiss and broke away, slid ing back on the couch so they were no longer touching. They were both breathing heavily, gazes locked, and she would bet he was as aroused as she. So why the heck had he stopped?
His “Do you want to shower first or should I?” brought her desires down a notch.
Tempted to say together, she stopped herself. “I will.”
Dazed, she pulled herself together and pushed herself up to her feet. Quickly, she grabbed the robe from the back of the couch and scurried into the bathroom.
Embarrassment…confusion…desire all warred within her.
On the List Page 9