by Fiona Archer
Avery nodded. “Good. Keep me informed. I’d like to have something more to report upstairs soon.” Their sergeant moved off to another detective’s cubicle.
Heath glanced at his phone. Derek had called London on the drive back to Headquarters. Mercy was driving London home since her car was still parked in the alley behind Harper’s building.
He tapped London’s contact on his screen.
“Hello?” London’s voice sounded tired.
“Hey, Red.”
“Hi.” The softness in her voice had him wishing he was there beside her. “I’m glad you called. Did Derek tell you I’m home?”
“Yeah. You okay?”
“Mercy’s here with me.” Not exactly an answer to Heath’s question. “I’ve got a heap of Facebook crap to work through.” She sighed. “I was hosting a Facebook live chat when the detectives arrived at Seven Dishes, and people watching saw and heard everything that happened. So now there’s lots of innuendo and speculation, especially since Henry was a fellow author.”
Jesus. “Close down your laptop, London. You don’t need to cope with that right now.”
“I do, Heath. I have to get on top of this right now. Otherwise, it will blow completely out of proportion.”
“Give yourself an hour. Maybe lie down and then—”
“You don’t understand how Facebook works,” London cut in. Heath cursed at hearing the strain in her voice. “I have this one chance to take charge of this mess. If I don’t, then the false stories take on a life of their own until they become the perceived reality. Just—” she snapped, followed by a pause as if she was counting to ten. “I have to get this done.”
Obviously, he wasn’t helping, and after the day London had battled through, he guessed she was pretty much at her patience limit. “Okay, Red. But remember one thing.” He continued before she had a chance to interject. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
“That’s true, but the facts don’t make for a juicy story.” Her voice seemed weighed down by weariness as she ended the call. “I’ll see you later.”
Heath looked at his phone and sighed.
“Problems?” Derek asked as he looked over their desks.
Heath explained London’s predicament.
“Christ, she can’t win today.” Derek sat back in his seat. “I’m not on Facebook, but every time I hear people talking about it, there’s some guy getting caught out cheating, women breaking up friendships, or whatever the fuck.” Then his eyes widened. “Damn, Justice. That’s how Dillon started the problems for your family, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Despite London’s assertions earlier, he knew all too well the power of false accusations shared over social media. But having a panicked response wouldn’t help either. “I’m going to give her breathing room for a while, but come five, I’m out of here.”
Just before the appointed hour, another visitor stopped beside Heath’s desk.
He looked up to see Agent Tollison dressed in his standard dark suit and tie. “Afternoon, Tollison. You meeting with Faulkner and Kennedy?” The agent was often here, working Fox’s murder investigation with SPD.
“We’ve just finished a briefing.” Tollison sat, uninvited, in the visitor’s chair next to Heath’s desk. “I hear you’ve had a busy morning.”
Heath leaned a forearm on the side of his chair. “You could say that.” Though he wasn’t sure precisely what part of his morning the agent was referring to.
“Including an early morning meeting.” Tollison’s casual tone belied the sharpness of his gaze.
Bishop.
“I take it Adam updated you?”
Tollison nodded. “It’s good to know the exact leverage used to force Fox’s involvement with the nightclub deal.” His brows drew together. “We may have a couple of developments in regards to other potential stooges for the Ivy League cartel. All yet to be confirmed, but it’s progress.”
“Adam working with you on that?”
The agent’s dry laugh held no humor. “When he’s not being a pain in my ass, along with his client. It’s a contest between him and Mrs. Fox for who is the most stubborn.” He shook his head. “I had a meeting at her house yesterday over tea and scones. She was answering questions about her husband’s friends and then lectured me that a society wife knows when to block out certain parts of the conversation even when it’s happening around her. All the time, your brother grinned his ugly face off as he sat on Elizabeth Fox’s brocade sofa.”
Heath was still amazed at the pairing of the society queen and his ex-black ops brother. From what Seth had shared, the two were getting on great. “Adam swore he’d hand over any evidence he found.” And Heath really fucking hoped he would keep his word.
“He will.” Tollison rose from the chair. “In his own goddamned time.” He nodded to both Derek and Heath. “Later, gentlemen.”
Derek watched the agent walk toward the major incident room. “You think Adam would hold anything back from Tollison?”
“I think Adam would do whatever was in the best interests of his case, and only then would he share whatever evidence he had.” Heath didn’t want to think about what Adam might keep secret. He glanced at his watch. Ten past the hour. “I’m outta here; you leaving?”
Derek nodded and rose. “There’s nothing more we can achieve here today. I’m going home to shower. Call me to confirm our meeting tonight.”
“Will do.” Since his and Derek’s case against Vargas was going nowhere, helping London was exactly what he needed. At least for tonight, he could focus on her and finding ways to banish the stress of her day.
He had a reputation for planning and executing his way to a positive result. With London as the benefactor of his endeavors, that was all the motivation he needed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Thirty minutes after leaving Police Headquarters, Heath pulled into London’s driveway. He noted the blue hatchback parked out on the street. Mercy’s car?
Seattle was blessed with long summer days, and nearing the end of August, the sun didn’t set until around eight. Usually people made the most of the extra daylight, but he noticed the curtains had been pulled. Maybe London wanted to shut out the outside world?
His knock on her front door was answered by the school teacher. Wearing jeans, a dark t-shirt and strands of red, yellow, and orange colored beads around her neck, Mercy’s long blonde hair was up in one of those messy buns like London wore. Heath glanced down at her yellow sneakers and had to smile. The cute little teacher had a sense of fun that would appeal to London. And obviously worked on Aidan, too.
“Hey, Heath.” Her welcoming smile seemed tempered by the worry lining her forehead. “London just sat down on the sofa in the living room. She’s finally taking a break from her Facebook and twitter feeds.” Mercy gave a small smile as she stepped back to give Heath entry. “I bribed her with a strawberry margarita.”
Heath squeezed the woman’s shoulder. “Thanks for being here with her.”
“I’m not sure if I’ve helped much, but it was better she had company. The girls have all called her to check in. Harper and Cleo have to work tonight, and Jinx has a charity event she’s helped organize or else they’d be here.” The teacher led the way into the first doorway on the left.
London was sitting on a flower patterned sofa, her head back and eyes closed. She was still wearing the same jeans and black sneakers, but had changed out her black top for a green t-shirt that hugged her figure in a way Heath couldn’t miss. In front of her was a low cherry wood coffee table with a couple of magazines and a tall glass filled with what must be the margarita mix.
“Look who’s here,” Mercy announced.
London opened her eyes, and Heath had to hide his frustration at the tiredness he saw in her green gaze.
“Hey, you.” London offered a soft smile.
Emotionally exhausted but happy to see him. Heath let out a breath.
“Red.” He sat beside her and leaned in to give her
a kiss on the mouth.
“I’ll give you guys a few minutes. Aidan’s expecting me to call.” Mercy walked toward a large open doorway, which led to a formal dining room and then into the kitchen. “Heath, how about a beer?”
“That’d be great, thanks, luv.” Turning back toward London, he gently grasped her hand in his and gave a gentle squeeze. “Taking a break from the internet?”
She grimaced. “I think Mercy was about to confiscate my laptop.”
Another reason for Heath to like the sweet blonde.
“My readers and a bunch of my author buddies made posts stating the facts and basically daring anyone to cause drama.” She lifted her free hand and shoved a strand of hair behind her ear. “The chatter calmed down some soon after.” She turned side-on, her body curving into the sofa and studied him, their joined hands resting on her thighs. Lifting up her other hand, she ran the back of her knuckles over his jaw. “I was bitchy to you on the phone earlier. I’m sorry.”
Heath turned his head to kiss her fingers. “I’m sure I can find a way for you to make it up to me.”
She chuckled. “This could be dangerous. Care to share some of those ways?
He grinned. “Maybe I’ll keep you in suspense?”
And if the twinkle in her gaze was any indication, it looked like her mind was occupied with something else other than today’s drama.
Mercy rejoined them and handed Heath an icy cold beer and held a margarita for herself. She sat in one of the two yellow and white striped wingback chairs and sipped her drink. “Mmm, that hits the spot.”
London smiled as she pulled her hand free from Heath and leaned over to pick up her glass off the coffee table. “Thanks for keeping me company this afternoon.”
“No problem. I’m enjoying the last of my summer break. I have just over a week before I go back to prepare my classroom for the new school year.”
“Is Aidan coming over?” Heath asked.
“Yep, and he’s bringing Chinese,” Mercy answered just as Heath’s phone rang.
He glanced at the caller ID. “Adam.”
“Where are you?” Adam asked, his tone urgent.
Heath tensed in readiness. “At London’s. Why?”
“Turn on the TV.” Adam named the local station’s news program.
Heath knew better than to waste seconds asking more questions. He turned to London. “Honey, turn on your TV.” Heath named the specific station.
“That’s the station that filmed me last night.” She clicked the remote control.
A few seconds later, a shot of London’s house appeared on the screen with a news van outside and a reporter looking back toward the house.
An unseen female’s voice came over the footage.
“For more news on this developing story, we head to our man at the scene, Kemp Douglas.”
The reporter outside London’s house nodded and spoke into a microphone bearing the signage of the station. “As you stated, Carly, local teen romance author, London Shaw, was taken in for questioning today by Seattle Police over the death of bestselling thriller author, Henry Banks.”
“Fuck.” Heath almost growled into the phone.
“That’s…” Mercy blinked. “Holy shit.”
“We can confirm Ms. Shaw was released without charge, and Seattle PD has stated she is no longer a suspect.”
“Oh. My. God.” London stared at the screen, her mouth open, eyes wide. She turned her shocked face to Heath. “What’s happening?”
“Here’s our exclusive footage from Ms. Shaw’s book signing last night. Our station is involved in a documentary on local authors and captured this event as part of that series.”
Film showing London at The Next Chapter filled the screen. She was talking to Henry, when he came up to her the second and last time that evening.
“Here are Ms. Shaw and Henry Banks, having what looks like a tense conversation. We have no audio, so we can only guess what was said.”
The broadcast switched back to the reporter in front of the house.
“Much speculation has taken place by readers and those in the publishing industry as to how a pen engraved with her name came to be used as the murder weapon.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen,” Adam said. “Prepare London for an evac. Either my place or yours. Choose by the time I get there.”
“Mine. I’ll call a cruiser to make sure we aren’t followed.” Heath ended the call as a knock sounded on the front door.
“Don’t answer that,” he instructed Mercy as he switched off the TV. Turning to London, he pulled her up from the lounge. “Red, I need you to pack. Enough for a few days.”
“Ms. Shaw, we know you’re inside,” a muffled voice said from the other side of the front door. “If you speak with us, we can guarantee you’ll get your story out there.”
“Pack? Where am I going?” London looked toward the door, her attention torn.
“My place. You can’t stay here.” He gripped her arms and leaned in close. “London, you’ve got a news crew outside your house, ready to stir up shit. They aren’t leaving. So we are.” With each of his words, he watched her face lose its wide-eyed shock and turn to weary resignation. “You with me on this, Red?”
“I’m with you,” she whispered, and looked over at Mercy. “Can you help me gather up my things?”
“You bet. I’ll call Aidan, too.” Mercy jumped into action as, together, the two women scurried from the room.
Heath called and organized a cruiser to run interference for them when Adam arrived. Then Derek called, having seen the newscast, and arranged to meet them at Heath’s house.
Adam and Seth arrived as promised, and between Heath and his brothers, they did their best to screen London and Mercy as they ran from the back door of London’s house and into the Explorer with its dark tinted windows.
The shouts from the reporter went ignored as Heath shoved a large duffel bag along with London’s laptop into his SUV.
Heath nodded his thanks to a couple of uniformed officers, friends who’d parked their patrol car behind the news van, blocking them in. Another patrol car joined the end of their mini convoy of Adam’s explorer and Heath’s SUV as they drove around the neighborhood, making sure there was no tail before Adam used the remote control to Heath’s garage and guided his vehicle straight inside. A connecting door from the garage to Heath’s house ensured nobody would see London exit the vehicle even if they had managed to follow behind the cops, which they hadn’t.
Heath parked in his driveway of his Craftsman bungalow and spoke to the two uniform cops, friends Heath had known for years. They would do a sweep of London’s house in an hour and let Aidan know when it was safe for Mercy to pick up her car.
After handshakes, the cops departed and Heath let himself in via the garage. Walking through the laundry room, he found Adam, Derek, Seth and Mercy in the kitchen and watched London as she moved aimlessly into his living room.
Her blank expression and slumped shoulders screamed she was lost, and not because this was her first time at his house and she wasn’t sure of the layout.
He needed to take care of his woman.
Heath shoved the duffle at Seth. “My room, bro.” Then he strode to London and gathered her in his arms.
London gave him her weight, pressing the side of her face into his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist.
No shudders. So not crying. That was good. Right now, she needed to catch her breath and allow this latest craziness to pass.
“Red, look at me.” He waited for her to comply before capturing her mouth in a kiss. He was gentle, wanting to soothe her. Slowly, he broke their kiss, all his alpha instincts on fire at the way she cuddled into him.
“Here’s the game plan. We’re going to order even more Chinese food, enjoy the company of family and friends, and let them distract you from all the world’s dramas for an hour or so.”
She studied him with, it had to be said, skepticism in her eyes. “You seem to have a
lot of faith in that plan.”
“Yeah, and you know why?”
She shook her head.
“It’s my job to make everything okay for you, and I’m not going to fuck that up.”
He saw her swallow, saw the wetness fill in her eyes and, dammit, felt his world shift underneath him.
This was why some men went to war over a woman. Not because of greed or possessiveness, but the need to eradicate any threats so that nothing fucking ever harmed a hair on her head. And he would keep fighting to protect her until the moment he took his last breath.
She straightened and blinked away her tears. “You can’t say that kind of awesome shit to me right now. That kind of awesome shit has to wait for when we don’t have people around to witness my guaranteed ugly cry.”
“Is that right?” He grinned, admiring the hell out of her for gathering up the tattered remains of her control.
“Yes, and I’m talking seriously ugly, with nose dribble, hiccupping sobs, and a blotchy face that lasts for hours.” She let Heath steer her back toward the kitchen. “If you don’t believe me, ask Derek.”
“Ask me what?” her brother said from where he sat on a stool on the opposite side of Heath’s pine kitchen counter.
“That she ugly cries,” Heath answered.
Derek accepted a beer from Seth and nodded his thanks. “Man, you have no freaking idea. Snot. Loud sobbing. Yelling at everyone not to look at her. And that was just the other week watching of re-run of some biker’s woman dying in a TV show.”
London gasped. “It wasn’t just some woman, you philistine. It was Tara. Jax’s world went to pieces.” She swung to face Heath, her gaze imploring as she outlined her defense. “We’re talking Sons of Anarchy. And Jax isn’t just some guy. He’s all about epic bad boy/antihero sexiness, and Tara was his soul mate.”
“Damn straight.” Mercy said from her perch on the stool next to Derek.