Seeing Red

by Jill Shalvis

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk.”

  “No, maybe we should. I don’t want to be your dick-of-the-week, Summer.”

  A laugh burst out of her at that. “Well, then. How about we take this one day at a time?”

  “I think with you, we’ll go minute to minute. And now that you’ve turned me around so many times I don’t know whether I’m coming or going, are you going to tell me the other thing you needed to tell me?”

  “Oh my God, I’d nearly forgotten.”

  “What now?”

  “Did you know Braden’s leaving?”

  “What do you mean, leaving?”

  “He’s with Chloe tonight. It’s their good-bye. He said he isn’t the stick around type.” A stab of guilt went through her because she’d become the same type. “I thought you’d want to know.”

  “Yeah. I want to know.”

  He said this so grimly she frowned. “What aren’t you telling me here?”

  “Nothing I’m supposed to.”

  Her heart sped up, and her stomach dropped. “I know Braden’s quiet and sort of mysterious, but he wouldn’t hurt anyone. If you could have seen the way he looked at Chloe tonight…”

  He swore at that, muttering to himself, then glanced at her again. “He has a police record.”

  “He’s been arrested?”

  “Yes. And his name isn’t Braden Cahill. His real name is Brian Coldwell. Did you know that?”

  “No.” Her thoughts raced uncomfortably. “You’ve been busy,” she said slowly.

  “It’s my job.”

  “You’re good at it.”

  “Not good enough.” He slapped an open palm on the steering wheel in frustration, shook his head, and sped up.

  Chapter 19

  It was somewhere near one in the morning by the time Summer watched Joe walk away. He’d taken her to his boat, waiting until she’d gotten into his bed and closed her eyes before he’d left. Though he’d told her he had to work, she still felt as if she’d pushed him out of his own home.

  His bedroom was small and shaped like the top of a torpedo, with the bed against the curved wall, which was lined with high, narrow windows. He had a heavy blue comforter and soft matching sheets that smelled like him, which was to say incredible. She kept pressing her face into his pillow.

  Pathetic.

  Reaching for the phone, she called Chloe. She knew the call wouldn’t be welcome but she had to check on her after what she’d learned tonight about Braden.

  Chloe answered her cell phone with a very breathless, annoyed “Yeah?”

  “I just wanted to see how you’re doing,” Summer said.

  “I’ve had three orgasms and I’m going for four, thanks for asking. Now don’t call back.”

  “Chloe.”

  Chloe sighed. “What?”

  “I need to talk to you about Braden.”

  “No.”

  “Chloe—”

  “Okay, stop. Stop right there. You always followed your gut and it got you the world. Now I’m going to do the same, only my world is right here lying next to me.”

  “He has one foot out of that world, remember?”

  “Hold on a sec.”

  Summer heard her cover the phone and murmur something softly, and then Braden’s equally soft reply. After a moment, Chloe came back. “I sent him to the kitchen for whipped cream. So what is it? What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Braden has a police record, and he’s using a different name from his last job.”

  Chloe was quiet a moment. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. Want me to come over?”

  “I don’t need a babysitter. Look, whatever this stuff’s about, I believe in Braden. He’s a good guy, Summer.”

  “I want to believe that too. I really do. Just…be careful.”

  “Yeah. I will.” Chloe clicked off, sounding much more subdued than she had, and Summer hated that she’d been the one to cause it. She picked up her phone again to let her mom know where she was. She didn’t know if Camille would worry, but maybe it wasn’t about that so much as Summer just needing to connect.

  But Camille didn’t answer her phone. Concerned, she called Tina’s house.

  “Yes, she’s here,” Bill told her. “The two of them are in the hot tub singing show tunes over a bottle of old scotch.”

  Summer laughed in surprise. “They don’t drink scotch.”

  “They don’t usually hot tub it either, but your mom found some old stuff in the boxes that came out of the warehouse.”

  “What stuff?”

  “Your dad’s. Just an old partially written manuscript and some notes. And the bottle of scotch. She decided it’d aged enough.”

  “Maybe I should come over and try to cheer her up.”

  “Actually, she’s not sad,” Bill said. “They’re out there laughing and talking. And singing, let’s not forget the singing. I think it’s therapeutic. Me, I need a run to the racetrack for my therapy.”

  “Too bad Del Mar isn’t open all night, huh?”

  “Babe, you ain’t kidding.” He huffed out a breath but she could tell he was smiling. “Want me to give her a message?”

  “I’ll call her tomorrow. Just watch after them, okay?”

  “I always have.”

  In the early dawn light, Joe leaned back against the trunk of the Camaro. He was watching Chloe’s condo and sipping a Red Bull. It’d been that or a dozen doughnuts, but he refused to go back to stress eating simply because his life had been turned upside down.

  And it had been turned upside down. It wasn’t work either, though he was in the middle of several difficult cases, with Creative Interiors at the top. He’d had many such problems this year. He’d learned to separate out his emotions from the practical aspect of his job.

  Or so he’d thought.

  But enter one Summer Abrams. Or reenter.

  From behind him came a whine. He’d left Ashes asleep on the passenger seat of the car, having some sort of a dream that involved twitching her feet and ears. Probably dreaming about eating his files, her favorite pastime. Reaching through the window, he stroked a hand down her little body, over her plump belly, and she quieted. Just because of his touch.

  Hard to believe he’d gotten to the ripe old age of thirty and could still have such a small thing grab him by the throat, but it did. He’d never had any pets as a kid, hell it’d been hard enough to survive without that worry. As an adult, he’d always been too busy. The people in his life were important to him: Kenny, his other coworkers, the women he’d dated…but none had ever required his care the way Ashes did. He’d always figured he’d think of such a responsibility as a chore.

  But he didn’t.

  With the jolt of caffeine humming through his system, he straightened as the front door of Chloe’s apartment opened, and out came the man he’d been waiting for.

  Joe knew the exact moment Braden saw him. Not that the younger man’s feet faltered, or that his body language changed in any noticeable way.

  But his face went carefully blank.

  Dead giveaway.

  “Morning,” Joe said, and reached into his car to bring out another can of Red Bull.

  Braden eyed the can, then Joe. “You waited out here for who knows how long to offer me a kick of caffeine that tastes like cow piss?”

  “I don’t think it tastes like cow’s piss. At least not if it’s good and cold.” With a shrug, Joe opened the can himself. What the hell. “And for your information, I waited out here—for two hours, thanks for asking—to find out what the hell you think you’re doing, skipping town right now.”

  Braden lifted a shoulder. “What’s wrong with right now?”

  Joe took a long sip of the drink. Between realizing he’d done the unthinkable and moved Summer in with him, then getting no sleep while he sat in his office staring at the files of the fires, and now all this caffeine, he’d be lucky if poof, his head just didn’t explode right off his shoulders. “Leaving n
ow makes you look guilty. You know that.”

  Braden eyed him for a beat. “Makes me look guilty, or makes me guilty period?”

  “Semantics.”

  Braden cocked his head. “Are you here to arrest me for something?”

  “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”

  Braden closed his eyes. Swallowed once. “Don’t fuck with me.”

  “Actually, that was going to be my line to you. I interviewed you after the warehouse fire. After the store fire. Both times I could tell you were nervous and I asked you point blank if there was something I needed to know. You said no.”

  “I stick by that.”

  “All right.” Joe opened his clipboard. “You have a record. I pulled it.”

  “How did you—”

  “You used the same Social Security number for your alias, so they’re linked at the DMV. Not smart.”

  Braden’s mouth tightened.

  “Does Chloe know your real name is Brian?”

  No answer.

  “How about that you’re an alcoholic?”

  “Recovering. I haven’t had a drink in eighteen months.”

  “You have proof of that? Or the fact that you supposedly haven’t smoked?”

  Braden looked at Chloe’s condo.

  Joe sighed. “Does she know any of it?”

  “She doesn’t know anything about me other than what she’s seen. I wanted that.”

  Joe knew all about wanting to be impenetrable. Unbreakable. What he didn’t know was if Braden’s reason was legal or not. “We want to search your place.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier if I just showed you all my size eleven-and-a-half shoes so you could check for traces of gasoline?”

  Joe looked at him for a long moment. They’d let everyone know about the size eleven-and-a-half prints found at the fires. What they hadn’t said was that the prints were a work boot, not a shoe.

  So was Braden innocent, or just very, very good?

  Joe flipped through the pages on his clipboard. “Interesting how Braden Cahill is this model citizen. No tickets. Not so much as a blip on his record anywhere. Brian Cold-well however…not so lucky.”

  Braden snatched the opened Red Bull out of Joe’s hand and sat on the curb as he downed the contents. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Embezzling from an antique shop—”

  “It was my uncle’s shop. He owed me back wages that he refused to pay. So I helped myself.”

  “He prosecuted.”

  “He’s an asshole.”

  “Okay.” Joe could buy that easily enough, he’d been raised by an asshole. “You were also held and questioned about another matter. Money laundering.”

  “Again, my uncle. When I discovered the truth about his business, and how he was laundering drug money through his shop, I quit. But then he was caught and they thought I’d helped him.”

  “You hadn’t?”

  “No, and I was never charged for anything.”

  “True.” Joe tossed his file into the truck. “You have access to Creative Interiors’s books.”

  Braden swiped a hand over his mouth. It was shaking, and Joe had no idea if that was nerves or the caffeine jolt he’d just given his system. “I’ve done nothing wrong,” he repeated.

  “Then why are you leaving town?”

  Braden closed his eyes and let out a harsh laugh. “To avoid this.”

  “Haven’t you watched Cops? Running is always a bad thing.”

  “I didn’t think of it as running. More an avoidance technique.”

  “Well, you might want to rethink it,” Joe said. “Seriously rethink it.”

  Braden got to his feet and pulled out his keys. “Are we done here?”

  “For now.” Joe watched Braden stalk away before he got into his car just as his cell phone rang. “Walker.”

  “So official.”

  His entire body softened at the sound of Summer, even as a certain part of him went hard. Jesus, he was worse than Pavlov’s dog.

  “Did you find Braden?” she asked.

  “Yes. I think he’s going to rethink leaving for now.”

  “Any news on the text message I received?”

  “We’re tracing the number it was made from.”

  “Did anyone else get a text message?”

  “Not that we know of. Red, I’m telling you more than I should be.”

  “I guess that means you trust me.”

  That or he was a fool. He hadn’t decided which yet.

  She was silent a moment. “The fires, the phone call, Braden lying…None of this makes any sense to me.”

  “It will by the time we get to the bottom of it all.”

  “You sound so sure.”

  “I am.”

  She let out a low laugh. “Do you have any idea how it feels to hear you sound so confident? So assertive?”

  Confident and assertive? Was she kidding? He had no idea what the hell he was doing.

  “I’m just getting to know the man you’ve become,” she said softly. “And you know what?”

  He was almost afraid to ask. “What?”

  “I like it. I like you.”

  He’d known she was attracted to his body, she’d made no secret of that. He’d also known that while she’d told herself it was purely physical, even she knew deep down it was more than that. Her words proved it.

  But would she give them the time to take it where it might go?

  “Oh! Before I forget why I called you, I’ve got a cab coming to get a ride to my car. I’m heading up Highway 8 to Cuyamaca Peak. A couple of customers came through the shop last week and said how they always get lost up there, and they asked me to lead them. You said you wanted to know what I was up to.”

  “I did. I do.”

  “I’m dressing right now. I’m wearing a bright red tank and black running shorts. Do you want to know what color my panties are?”

  Yes. “Red.”

  “I’ll call you later, and I’ll give you a blow by blow of the rest of my day.”

  The image that put into his mind was not fit for mixed company. He pinched the bridge of his nose and wondered at his need for a doughnut. “Good-bye, Red.”

  “Bye. Oh, and they’re black,” she said. “Just plain cotton but string bikini cut. I say that because last night you seemed to enjoy—”

  “Thank you.” He wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything worth a damn now.

  “You want to tell me about your underwear?” She laughed. “Or maybe you’re going commando? I noticed you haven’t done laundry. Not that I’m much better—”

  He wasn’t used to erections on the job. And damn it, he was commando. “I have to go.”

  “I know. But Joe? Thanks.”

  “For?…”

  “For wanting me to stay with you. For caring. For…being there.”

  That she sounded surprised had his frustration with her fading away. “Just be careful on the mountain.” He hung up and pocketed the cell before he realized he was smiling, for no reason at all.

  Chapter 20

  By that evening, Joe and Kenny had combed the Creative Interiors II fire site yet again. They’d cooperated with the insurance investigator, who was conducting a simultaneous investigation. They’d gone back for yet more interviews with all the players and witnesses, including Stella and Gregg, both of whom had been the second to last to leave Creative Interiors II and had been in the warehouse several times in the months leading up to the fire.

  Neither of them smoked or had a size eleven-and-a-half boot, or had been in the small bathroom of the store in the hours before the fire, but neither did they have an alibi for the hours after the fire.

  The text Summer had received was traced to a pay-as-you-go phone, which made about as much sense as the rest of this whole thing did.

  An hour ago Joe had put Ashes in her box in the corner of his office, where she’d fallen asleep. He’d pushed away from his too messy desk, bringing the papers
he needed to the floor. They were scattered out before him, including the original warehouse fire investigation, but he’d found nothing there that stuck out at him. No size eleven boot with a diagonal tread. No traces of gasoline found. No cigarette butts. Not a single shred to suggest the old fire could be connected to two new fires.

  So…a terrible coincidence?

  Or clever arson? And yet if that was true, then half the possible suspects could be eliminated because they hadn’t been around twelve years ago.

  He heard footsteps coming down the hall, and knew by their light touch they were female. And still he was surprised when Summer appeared in his doorway. She hoisted a brown bag from which came a delicious scent, making his mouth water.

  Or maybe that was just her.

  “Hungry?” she asked, and waved the bag. “Low carb, no sugar or fat, I swear.”

  Her smile was warm, affectionate, and just unsure enough to have him tossing aside his pencil and notepad. “And here I was hoping for pizza.”

  Her light laugh filled him as she came into the room. She wore shorts tonight. Khaki cargo shorts with pockets everywhere, and a snug, thin scoop-neck T-shirt with a smiley face on it that said SMILE, IT CONFUSES PEOPLE.

  “Did you just get back from your day hike?” he asked.

  “Yep, I got them halfway to the summit, which was their goal. They want to try again later in the summer. They had a great time. Oh, and I got myself booked for two more hikes next week.” Her smile faltered, and he knew that was because she hadn’t planned on being here that long.

  “You could have said no,” he said gently.

  “I could have. Didn’t though.” She sat on the floor next to him, hugged her knees close and smiled at him. “It gives me an excuse to stay.”

  “Do you need one?”

  “Maybe I once thought I did. I know it doesn’t make much sense to you, but being so far from home for so long was…freeing.”

  “You think you’d lose your freedom if you lived here, or used it as your home base?”

  Reaching out, she stroked some hair from his forehead. The thick strands immediately fell back again, and she smiled. “I love your hair.”

  She sidetracked him like no one else ever had. “Red.”

  “Okay.” She sighed. “I don’t know about losing my freedom,” she admitted. “I just know that I love being with you, in a way I’d never imagined. Can’t that be enough for now? For the next few weeks, until I decide what the hell I’m doing?”