Courting Danger

by Carol Stephenson

  “Thanks for seeing me, Katherine.” His voice was rough. “Not many of my friends want that pleasure at the moment.”

  “They’ll call once we get you out of here.”

  “Am I getting out?”

  “You’ll have a first appearance hearing tomorrow morning. With your clean record, family and community ties, I anticipate the judge will allow bail. It may be high because of the murder charge.”

  Embarrassment flickered across Lloyd’s face before the shuttered expression resumed. “At the moment I don’t happen to have any spare change lying around.”

  Oh yes. His wife, Meredith, had been quite clear about their financial situation. In the past I had wondered why a man like Lloyd would take on a low-paying job such as the restoration project, but now I knew. At his age without money, he had been hoping to make prestigious contacts.

  “You do have friends, Lloyd. A few are raising the collateral for the bail.”

  He looked down at his hands clasped on top of the table. “Another debt to repay.”

  “It’s either that or stay in jail.”

  His lips twitched. “Always the pragmatist, Katherine.”

  I cleared my throat. “Speaking of being pragmatic, I have to advise you that I’ve never represented a client charged with murder. However, I’m quite an experienced negotiator. I reviewed the charges before meeting with you, and I’m confident that I can get you a good deal.”

  Without warning, he leaned across the table and snagged my wrist.

  My mouth dried. We were in a conference room without windows. If the on-duty officer wasn’t paying attention to the security cameras, Lloyd could break my right wrist and worse before help could arrive.

  With my left hand I carefully palmed my pen, prepared to jab him if need be.

  “I didn’t kill Grace.” His blunt nails cut into my tender flesh. “I wasn’t having an affair with her. I love Meredith too much to betray her like that. You must believe me.”

  I sensed the anger through his grip, I heard the conviction in his voice, and when I gazed into his haunted eyes, I recognized the truth. Hadn’t I looked into a mirror countless times during the U.S. Attorney corruption investigation and seen that same lost expression in my own eyes?

  Lloyd hadn’t killed Grace Roberts.

  I released the pen and laid my hand on top of his. “I believe you.”

  “Thank you.” He swallowed, blinking back tears. He released me and slowly leaned back into his chair.

  “Now what?”

  Under the cover of the table, I massaged sensation back into my right hand before I picked up my pen. “Now tell me everything you know about Grace, about the restoration project and any enemies you may have made.”

  Lloyd groaned and scrubbed his face. “How many hours do you have?”

  I flipped to a fresh page on my paper pad. “As many as it takes.”

  Chapter 3

  The stadium-size parking lot had emptied considerably during the time I had been meeting with my client. Only a scattering of patrol and civilian cars remained. The late-afternoon sun cast deep shadows in the corners. Of course, my car was parked on the far side so I cut a diagonal toward it.

  Halfway across the lot I heard the slight sound of rubber scuffing against the pavement. I glanced around but saw no one. The fine hairs on the nape of my neck lifted as if stirred by a nonexistent breeze.

  I picked up the pace and at the same time shifted the car key into my right hand. Although I heard nothing else, I still breathed a mental sigh of relief when I reached the Jag. Being a city girl, I flicked on the miniflashlight clipped to my key chain and panned the narrow beam into the back seat. No one.

  Who could blame me for having jumpy nerves? I’d had one miserable day. I inserted and twisted the key.

  Someone jerked my briefcase from my left hand, almost dislocating my shoulder.

  I spun only to see a hooded person running toward the street.

  “Hey!” I took off after the thief. “Give that back!”

  After a few steps I kicked off my shoes, wishing I could throw them like a knife and impale him right between the shoulder blades.

  In my stocking feet, I continued the chase, zigzagging among the cars. If I could maneuver him toward the south edge, then maybe I would be in luck and the security for The Donald’s golf course might be on patrol. The Trump course was more closely guarded than the jail any time of the day.

  I winced as a stone sliced my foot. There went another pair of hose! The kid was fast, I had to grant him that. In my tight skirt I wasn’t gaining any ground. Time for a different strategy.

  At the top of my considerable lungs, I yelled, “Take the bag but dump the contents!”

  The thief ignored me and cut around one of the county buses used to transport prisoners. I pumped my arms and put on a burst of speed, but by the time I reached the bus, he had disappeared. I paused, catching my breath, while I tried to gauge where he had gone.

  No movement, no sound, no clue.

  Now, like an idiot, I could stumble about in the gathering dusk, giving him an opportunity to jump me again, or retreat to my car.

  “Damn!” Turning, I gimped back to the jail parking lot, picking up my discarded shoes along the way. I rather liked that briefcase, but thank God, the jerk had gone for the blatant designer initials on the case and not for my more discreet Hermès tote. Although it was a pain in the ass, I could’ve easily recopied the court files contained in the case. Not so for the contents of my tote. Unzipping the top, I pulled out the slim leather portfolio.

  My notes from the Silber interview were irreplaceable. I’d dictate them up as soon as I reached the office. I opened my car door and slid inside.

  But first, I had a bone to pick with the sheriff’s office about the security of its parking lot.

  Nearly an hour later the Jag and I, mutually running on empty, crawled into the firm’s parking lot. Given the time, the staff was gone for the day although I could hear voices from Nicole’s office located diagonally across from mine. Without making a sound, I limped down the hall.

  Once I was inside the seclusion of my office, my aching feet demanded that I kick off my shoes. The next article of clothing to go was my jacket. With a mingled sigh of relief and groan of pain, I shucked off my ruined hose.

  “Hey, sweetheart. Don’t you think we should get business out of the way before we get down to hot and sweaty?” A man’s voice, as rich and smoky as aged whiskey, emanated from the depths of the Queen Anne chair I had placed beside a table in the corner for working at nights.

  I froze, my skirt still hitched around my waist and my heart doing a perfect backflip. I didn’t have any appointments. My sole client was in county lockup.

  As I yanked my skirt down, I squinted but couldn’t make out my unwanted visitor’s features. As I hadn’t bothered to turn on the overhead light, the room remained dark. Good, he couldn’t have seen much.

  “Of course, I’m for skipping business altogether. Stripping off that blue silk thong over your endless legs would be a lot more interesting. It’s been a hell of a day.”

  My face burned. Of all the obnoxious men, this one took the cake. Carling’s office was next to mine so he had to be her client. Let her take his gigantic ego down a peg or two. In the meantime I wrapped the shreds of my dignity around me.

  “Excuse me, but you’re in the wrong office.” Each word dripped with the iciest disdain I could muster. “If you’re here for Carling—”

  “Hey, you’re here! For once I didn’t hear your car squealing to a stop.”

  I looked around. Carling stood with her shoulder propped against the doorjamb. “I see you two have met.”

  I was supposed to meet this oaf? With a tinge of desperation, I said, “I was just going to escort your client to your office.”

  She let out a hoot of laughter. “In my dreams. After you told me about your new case, I knew you would need an investigator so I called the best. Kate, meet Gabriel Chavez,
P.I.” She flicked the switch on so the room flooded with light.

  Oh no, not him, although I probably should be grateful for the opportunity to meet the infamous police detective whose dismissal had actually bumped me and the federal corruption investigation of the U.S. Attorney’s office from headlines.

  I blinked against the glare as the man rose and sauntered toward me. He had chosen that chair deliberately, I realized, both to protect his back and to see who entered before he was spotted. Here was a man accustomed to danger and wanting the upper hand.

  Then I saw his face and was blindsided. God, talk about gorgeous.

  Gabriel Chavez personified Latin virility: jet-black hair that curled, golden skin stretched taut over knife-edged cheekbones, eyes the shade of dark Godiva chocolate, a sculpted poet’s mouth designed for long, soft kisses. Dressed in black jeans and black T-shirt, he had a tough, compact build with broad shoulders.

  Then he smiled, a flash of strong white teeth. Oh yeah, here was a man who could charm the pants off any woman within a hundred feet with one glimpse of that dimple.

  He extended his hand and manners dictated that I hold out my own. I intended only the briefest of grips, but nothing prepared me for the jolt of his skin against mine. A wave of heat singed every nerve ending from the tips of my fingers to the soles of my feet.

  I stepped back and nearly fell when my heel banged against a chair. With a smooth move, Gabriel caught and righted me. His arms slipped around me, bringing me into perfect alignment against the hard, muscular angles of his body.

  With an effort, I found my voice. “Um, I’m fine. You can let go now, Gabriel.”

  His bedroom eyes couldn’t have been hotter and more amused as he slowly shook his head. “Call me Gabe. And I’m quite happy with the way things are.”

  I inhaled, to blister him, and gasped. Even the smallest movement on my part caused us to rub together.

  He grinned. His warm masculine scent filled my nostrils, making me feel even woozier.

  Setting my teeth, I wiggled my hand trapped between our bodies. I caught a pinch of his rib flesh and gave a sharp twist. He yelped and released me. I shook my fist at him.

  “Listen macho man. I have been mauled and mugged two times already today and I’ve had it up to here!”

  My outburst finally got a rise out of Carling, who had contented herself to watch our play-by-play with great interest. She rushed to me.

  “What do you mean, you were mugged?”

  “A guy…at least I think the thief was male…grabbed my briefcase as I was leaving the jail.”

  Now that my hormonal surcharge was subsiding, my feet were back to screaming for attention. I limped over to my chair and sat, dropping the tote bag on the floor.

  “I gave chase but lost him when he ducked behind a bus.”

  “Let me see those.” Gabe knelt before me and lifted a foot. His dark brow arched. “You chased him without your shoes on?”

  I winced as he prodded a cut. “I thought it was wiser than breaking my neck from running in four-inch heels.”

  “You actually think? Did you think about the consequences of chasing some punk by yourself?”

  I tried to tug my foot free, but his strong fingers were like a vise.

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Right, that’s why you look like you’ve been run over by a truck.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Carling, can you bring me a washcloth and a first-aid kit? These cuts need to be cleaned and bandaged.”

  No way did I want to be left alone with this man. We could call Nicole for help. I shot a pleading glance at Carling, but my traitorous friend was already out the door.

  With as dignified tone as I could muster, I said, “You don’t need to stay, Mr. Chavez. Carling and I can manage.”

  He winked. “We have business to discuss, remember?” His touch was gentle but impersonal as he examined the cuts on my sole. Wow, were my feet throbbing! I tried to see around Gabe’s head to see how deep the cuts were. Then I caught sight of the fire-engine-red toenail polish the manicurist had talked me into yesterday instead of my usual pink.

  What messages did a woman send with that color? I almost surrendered to the urge to wiggle my toes to see if any polish was chipped.

  I heard Gabe’s low voice rumbling. With an effort, I focused.

  “What did you say?”

  “Carling says you need an investigator for the old courthouse murder case.”

  “Mr. Chavez, I don’t think you’re suitable for the position.”

  Uh-oh. He released my one foot only to wrap his fingers around the other ankle. Good thing I’d had my legs waxed as well yesterday. As he pressed his fingers, the action took on the semblance of a massage.

  “It’s Gabe, remember.”

  “What?”

  “My name.”

  “I know who you are.” My embarrassment made for loose lips. “Your exploits as a detective were headline news up right through the time you punched out your captain and you were fired.”

  My God, was that Aunt Hilary’s biting primness I heard coming from my mouth?

  Gabe lowered my foot; I could have whimpered.

  “Was that a rebuke I heard? You of all people should understand about being on the receiving end of a scandal.”

  He had me there. Leaning forward, I looked into his dark fathomless eyes. “I’m…I’m sorry. It’s been a long hellish day. No.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “That’s a cop-out. You ever have a frightening moment when you become exactly like the people who raised you…even when you swore a million times you wouldn’t?”

  He nodded. “Both the good and the bad of our folks are stamped upon our makeup.”

  “Exactly. I just had an ‘Aunt Hilary’ moment and I apologize.”

  Gabe stayed in a crouch, his arm resting on his knee. “This Aunt Hilary raise you?”

  I never spoke about my family with strangers, but in the quiet of my office, with this man who appeared willing to listen, the temptation was strong. Too strong. I needed to steer the conversation back to business.

  “Gabe.”

  “Yes?”

  “Carling and Nicole both speak highly of your investigation skills.” If fact, they had waxed poetic about his results. When their regular investigator had suffered a heart attack and retired two months ago, he had recommended Gabe. At that time I had no clients of my own, so I hadn’t bothered to meet Gabe and hadn’t bothered to check his references.

  “They’re dynamite women.”

  The obvious admiration in his tone gave me a pause. Was his relationship with one of my friends personal? Jealousy’s claws needled me.

  “Look,” I said in desperation. “I’m sure you’d be fine to use on a case with not as high a profile….” My voice trailed off. My family had said the same about me.

  Gabe winked at me. “We’re quite a pair with our history, aren’t we?”

  I nodded.

  His expression intensified as he studied me. “Your partners said you got a bum deal at the U.S. Attorney’s office.”

  My cheeks warmed.

  “But you made a mistake and paid for it.”

  Even months later, chagrin was a hot ball in my throat that I had to swallow.

  “Slept with the top guy—”

  Oh no, not again. I wasn’t about to listen to the career-favors-for-sex intimation. “Don’t go there.” My voice was tight with anger.

  “Don’t go where?”

  “I did not get any special breaks for dating Harold. Period.”

  Gabe’s eyebrow arched in skepticism. “I know Harold Lowell and you’re a looker.”

  Just like a man to assume the worst. This time I welcomed Hilary’s reproving tone in my voice. “What you don’t know is that I eloped when I was eighteen, only to learn the boy had visions of trust funds and not love.” I snapped my fingers. “My family secured the divorce within a few weeks.”

  He whistled. “Talk about a quickie.”

  P
erhaps. But not quick in terms of emotional toll, although I wasn’t about to admit that. I settled for a frosty glare. “Call my mistakes with men lessons learned the hard way.”

  Moreover, I wasn’t about to follow my mother’s path and blaze a sexual trail through the opposite sex.

  “You must be talking about that rat Prince Harold.” Nicole Sterling, carrying a white terry washcloth and first-aid kit, walked toward us. Tall and slender in her navy pin-stripe suit, she was model-perfect. Her concerned gaze absorbed my condition in one glance.

  “You look like hell.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Carling needed to take a call so she asked me to bring in the first-aid kit.”

  Gabe leaned back on his heels and flashed that killer smile. “Hello, Red. Looking gorgeous as usual.”

  “Looking to die young, Gabe?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Then don’t call me Red.” She handed him the cloth.

  “Sure thing, Red…I mean Nicole.” He winked before he looked down as he probed and cleaned my wounds. I bit back a whimper.

  “Did Katherine also mention that she was the one who figured out Harold’s scam and turned him in to the federal authorities?”

  “No, she forgot that fact.” He squeezed a drop of salve onto his palm and carefully applied it to the cuts.

  “Fine.” I leaned back into the chair. “Let’s talk about me as if I wasn’t present.”

  Nicole propped her hip against the edge of my desk. “Lucky gal. Nothing like having a tall, dark and handsome man attend to you.”

  And dangerous, I thought. Very dangerous to a woman who lacked any intuition about the opposite sex. I said coolly, “If you see a man like that, let me know. Ouch!”

  Gabe’s expression was pure innocence. “Sorry. Did that hurt?”

  “You know it did.”

  Nicole laughed. “Sounds like you two are going to have a great time working together.”

  I cast her a withering glance.

  “Kate here hasn’t made up her mind whether I can stand up to public scrutiny on this case.”