Delicious Torment

by Linsey Lanier

  Erotic shivers slithered across her shoulders, down her back, and ended at her tailbone. He knew her too well.

  She took a small step away from him. “You’re ruining my concentration.”

  Parker inhaled slowly, forced back his temper. He refused to embarrass her with a tongue-lashing in front of her guests. Besides, the sight of her playing hostess in that gorgeous red dress that set off the blue of her eyes, and the black of her hair, had melted his heart the instant he’d entered the room.

  Her ingenuity impressed him. It was a good trap. He glanced over at the disgusting artist drinking his whiskey. And since the trap was already set, might as well use it.

  Giving in to feeling, he put a hand under her hair and drew her close. “Lord, I’ve missed you. And your rebel spirit.”

  He kissed her. Right in front of everybody, though it wasn’t a long kiss.

  Guess he wasn’t too upset, Miranda thought, relishing his seductive embrace. “What happened? You weren’t supposed to be home until Monday.”

  He released her, his face suddenly grim. “The case was closed. I caught an earlier flight.”

  “Uh huh.” She fought back a new wave of pain, not wanting him to see it.

  But he sensed it. All his irritation with her evaporated when he saw that sad look in her eyes. With his whole heart, he wanted to give her Amy, the world, and anything in it she wanted.

  Gently he took her hand and kissed it. “I’m proud of you.”

  “What for?”

  “Even though you went against orders, this party is a clever scheme. I couldn’t have thought of a better one myself.”

  Really? Or was he trying to make up to her for his lack of success in Washington? The compliment still felt good. The party was a good idea, even if it was hers.

  “So what’s the plan?”

  She opened her mouth, then spotted Delta glaring at her like a passenger on the Titanic who’d missed the last lifeboat. Her gaze went back and forth between Miranda and Parker. Uh oh.

  “Excuse me. I have to go to work now.”

  She glanced over at Usher, still huddled at the bar, a thumb hooked in the pocket of his lilac vest. He was actually laughing, apparently at a joke Mr. P had just told him. Good time to catch him off guard. She caught Delta Langford’s eye. Now. She mouthed the word across the room.

  The woman nodded. After another searing glower at Parker, Delta crossed the room to the bar.

  Miranda watched as Delta spoke stiffly to the artist a moment. Then they took their drinks and disappeared down the hall.

  What was she doing? She was supposed to confront him right here in front of everybody. She must have lost her nerve. She’d better play her role right, or this could blow up in everyone’s face.

  As casually as she could, Miranda sauntered toward the hallway and watched them step into the library.

  “I see what you have in mind,” Parker said slowly, approval in his voice. “Did you use the zoom cameras?” he asked so softly only she could hear him.

  She nodded. “High def color.” Since there were only a dozen rooms on the mansion’s ground floor, she’d been able to hide several of the thirty-two cameras in each one. She’d put three in the library. “One in the plant in the corner, one in a book on the shelf, one in the smoke alarm.”

  “Thorough.”

  Miranda didn’t have time to relish Parker’s praise. Usher’s voice was coming through her earbud.

  “What do you want, Delta?”

  After a long pause, Delta said something about being surprised to see him here. Her voice was scratchy.

  Usher answered, but his reply was muffled.

  “Sorry,” Miranda said to Parker. “I’ve got to, uh, go see what’s cooking in the kitchen.” She spun on her heels and hurried down the hall.

  * * *

  The granite counters in the huge kitchen were piled high with trays of fresh appetizers. Recycle bins filled with empty bottles of booze and beer were stacked on the floor.

  Miranda stomped over to the pantry where she’d hidden the DVR. She yanked open the door and glared at the monitor. Delta and Usher were facing each other like two cowboys in a showdown.

  She turned a knob. Say something, dammit. There was a voice. Still muffled. Move to the plant, Delta. She adjusted the knob again and watched the signal.

  “Ferraro. What are you doing here?”

  “Same as you. I was invited.”

  That was better. Nice and clear. A thrill rushed over her skin.

  “But you didn’t have to come. Why did you?”

  Pause. Noise again, but it was only Delta setting down a vase too near the mic.

  “I wanted to see what Ms. Steele was up to.”

  She could almost feel the gasp in Delta’s throat. “Why do you think she’s up to something?”

  There was a sharp rap. Miranda jumped, then realized someone was at the door that led to the deck.

  “What the hell?” With a grunt, she yanked the bud out of her ear, closed the pantry, went to the window and peeked out. It was her two work buddies. Fine time for them to show up.

  She jerked open the door and put her hands on her hips. “You’re late.”

  Holloway stepped into the kitchen wearing a sheepish look. “I’m sorry, Steele. It took me an hour to convince Becker to come back.”

  Becker shuffled inside behind Holloway, his hands in his pockets, his head down. But at least he’d combed his thick black hair and worn a suit. Might have even trimmed his eyebrows. He didn’t look half bad. “I just don’t feel like a party tonight.”

  “You haven’t felt like a party in weeks,” Holloway scolded. “I keep telling you, you need to get out. Steele was nice enough to invite both of us to this shindig and look how you act.”

  Miranda held up a hand. Now that they were here, she had to get rid of them and get back to Delta. “You’ll both love this. Parker’s here.”

  “Parker?” they said in unison, both pairs of eyes glowing. Becker seemed cheerier already. But that hadn’t been the idea.

  She took the short man’s arm. “Come on into the foyer, Becker. There’s someone I want you to meet.” She’d do a quick introduction, then get back to the surveillance.

  “Parker, right?”

  “You know Parker. You see him all the time at the office. He teaches a martial arts class once in a while.”

  “Not the same thing as getting to talk one-on-one with him.”

  This might not be as easy as she thought. “Just wait till you see who—”

  Before she could take another step, Fanuzzi swung through the door, an empty tray in one hand, a drained wine bottle in the other.

  “Well, here she is.”

  The caterer froze. Staring at Becker, she craned her neck, blinked hard, frowned as if she were trying to remember something.

  “Dave, I’d like you to meet—”

  Becker stiffened, cocked his head. “No,” he murmured. “It can’t be.”

  “What?” Miranda looked back at Fanuzzi. Her mouth was open. She stood as stiff as a board. What was wrong?

  Becker wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Joan?”

  Fanuzzi didn’t move. “Is that you, Dave?”

  “You two…know each other?” That was good, right?

  Becker took a step forward. “I can’t believe this. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  Fanuzzi stepped back. “What do you mean?”

  “I, uh, I mean I’ve been looking at some of those ‘find-your-lost-classmates’ websites, trying to find you.”

  Fanuzzi’s face went white, then red. “Oh, you have, have you?”

  “Yeah. I wanted to find you.”

  Darts were flying from Fanuzzi’s eyes. “After all these years?”

  Huh? Joan Fanuzzi was Becker’s old flame? Holy crap.

  Becker blinked, stunned at her harsh tone. “Yeah. Are you still upset about what happened between us? What was I supposed to do after you broke up with me?”r />
  “I broke up with you? Other way around, buddy.” She made her way toward the sink, sputtering like a leaky faucet. “What the hell are you doing here anyway, Dave?”

  He nodded toward Miranda. “I work with Steele. She invited me.”

  “What?” Slowly, Fanuzzi turned her head and glared at Miranda. “You invited him?”

  Miranda shifted her weight. “Yeah. I thought I’d introduce you to each other. Guess I don’t need to.”

  “We went to Brooklyn High together,” Becker said. “Maybe we could get together sometime, Joan. Heck, maybe now.”

  “Like hell. I’m working, here.” She glanced over at Miranda, her blazing eyes said, I’ll get you for this. With a loud clatter, she set her stuff on a counter, picked up another tray, and left the room.

  Miranda raced after her, caught her by the arm. “Fanuzzi, wait. What’s going on?”

  She spun around. “You tell me, Murray. I don’t appreciate people sticking their noses in my personal business. Hell, I thought you were my friend.” She brushed her off and stomped back to the appetizer table.

  Miranda turned and saw Becker and Holloway standing at the other end of the hall. Becker looked bewildered.

  She went over to him. “I’m sorry, Becker. I was just trying to get you out of your funk.”

  “I—I guess I should go home.”

  “At least stay and have a drink. It’s on the house.” Her lame joke fell flat.

  Just then, a crash came from down the hall. Miranda’s heart jumped to the ceiling. Was that gunshot? God, no.

  There was shriek. Everyone turned in the direction of the sound.

  Miranda ran to peer down the hall just as the library door burst open and Delta emerged. With a wild look in her eyes, she raced down the passage, holding a hand to her cheek.

  “What happened?” Miranda demanded as the woman reached her.

  “He struck me. That monster struck me. Ms. Steele, I can’t stay here another second.” She rushed through the foyer and out the door.

  Parker was at her side as they raced back to the library. She peered through the open door and saw Usher standing there alone.

  “What happened?”

  “What was the idea of inviting Delta Langford here tonight? I’ve never been so humiliated. I have a good mind to bring charges against the Parker Agency.”

  With a fierce growl he stomped past them and left.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Beside her, still in his suit Parker stretched. “It’s past midnight, Miranda. How many times are you going to relive this party?”

  They were in the room with the zebra-skin rug, reviewing the digital recording on the big screen TV. The guests were gone. No one had stayed long after Delta and Usher had their blowup.

  Fanuzzi had cleaned up and left without another word.

  Miranda had had enough faux partying for a lifetime, but doggedly, she ran the recording back, trying to find a clue. She hit the Pause button and caught Usher’s face, his bloodshot eyes wild with emotion.

  Parker pointed at the screen. “That look is rather interesting.”

  She sat forward on the leather sofa, willing the image to reveal something. Parker ran a hand over her back, massaged the taut muscles between her shoulder blades. “Oh God, that feels good.” She’d missed that glorious touch of his. It was almost enough to distract her.

  “You did a good job tonight.”

  “Except that I failed to get Usher’s confession. The whole point of the thing.”

  “The effort was still commendable.”

  She snorted in disgust at herself and sat back.

  He studied her a moment, drinking in the features he had longed for a whole week. “I need to find a way to reward you.”

  She gave him a knowing glance. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”

  He held her with a deep, intimate gaze, not unlike the one he used when they made love. Her heart fluttered.

  “I was thinking of something unusual,” he said in a sultry voice.

  She looked away, reached for the soda she’d set on the coffee table. “Is this part of the Agency’s bonus plan?”

  “You could think of it that way.” He stretched his arm across the back of the couch in that easy way of his. “If you could have anything in the world, Miranda, what would it be?”

  She put down her drink, picked up the remote, and settled against his shoulder. “You know what I want. To find Amy.” She was sorry she said it as soon as the words were out, but it was what she felt.

  He lifted her hand and tenderly kissed her fingers. She felt his compassion course through her. And his frustration at being unable to give her the thing she wanted most. “Something else,” he murmured after a moment.

  She shrugged. “To solve this case.”

  He shook his head. “That’s in your hands. Something material.”

  Did he really want to give her a present? She thought a minute. The first image that came to mind was riding along State Route 51 with a gnarly work buddy who called himself Yosemite Sam, her hair blowing in the wind. That was it.

  “A motorcycle,” she said with a grin.

  Parker laughed out loud, relishing the sudden sparkle in her deep blue eyes. She was so unlike anyone he’d known. Other women wanted diamonds or pearls. Sylvia had always asked for exotic trips. But Miranda Steele wanted a motorcycle. How he adored her. “Is that really what you want?”

  “I had a pal in Phoenix who taught me how to ride a few years ago. We’d go out together on weekends. He let me drive most of the time. I loved it.” She’d wanted one ever since, but could never afford it.

  His gaze was thoughtful. Miranda couldn’t imagine Parker on a motorcycle.

  “I might have guessed you’d ask for something like that. What color?”

  “Red.”

  He eyed the cleavage of her dress. “You do look good in red. I’ll see what I can do.” He took the remote out of her hand and laid it next to her soda. Kissing her cheek, he murmured gently against her skin. “You should go to bed. You’ll have a better perspective on the case in the morning.”

  Hmm. Bed. She longed to have Parker in her bed again. She turned and saw again the deep weariness in his eyes. He’d had a long flight. A long, disappointing week. Her heart melted for him. And herself.

  “You go up,” she told him softy. “I’ll be there in a minute.” She picked up the remote.

  “Very well.” He rose, kissed her tenderly on the forehead and left.

  Glad he was home, she pushed the play button and the scene in the mansion’s library began to move again.

  The camera caught Delta, stiff, rigid, full of anger for the man before her. “I came here for Desirée.”

  “For Desirée?”

  “Remember, Ferraro, it was I who introduced you to my sister.”

  “Need you remind me?” Usher flipped his bleached-blond hair over his shoulder and paced beside a bookcase. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his lilac suit and stopped to study one of the landscapes on the wall, as if critiquing it.

  Miranda hadn’t known Delta had introduced them. But she could imagine how guilty the woman must feel about it.

  “Why shouldn’t I? Since she’s been gone, I’m reminded every day of the things you did to her.”

  Usher took his fists out of his pockets began to open and close them. “What things?”

  “What things? You made her life wretched, miserable.”

  Usher’s lip quivered as it curled into a snarl. “It was her family who made her life wretched and miserable. You and her father.”

  “I’ll admit Eli Langford is a poor excuse for a father, but Desirée and I loved each other. We were all we had.”

  Usher turned and stared at Delta as if he couldn’t believe his own ears. “Hah,” was all he could say.

  “It was you who gave my sister drugs until she became hooked on them. You who drank with her night after night until she was ill.”

  He to
ok a step toward her. “How would you know? You never paid attention to her.”

  “It was you, Ferraro, who gave her that fatal dose of PCP.”

  His eyes flamed, then comprehension flashed in them. “Who got you to come here tonight, Delta?” he demanded with a sneer.

  “Miranda Steele invited me. She’s with the Parker Agency.”

  “I know she’s with the Parker Agency.”

  “Then you must know why she invited you.”

  He put a hand to his head, as if he were getting a massive migraine. “What are you talking about?”

  “You put that fatal dose of PCP in Desirée’s drink that day at the Steeplechase.” There was a vicious glow in Delta’s eyes that Miranda hadn’t seen before.

  “Shut up,” he snarled.

  “I know it. The press knows it. The police are about to know it. You won’t get away with what you did to my sister much longer.”

  “Stop it, Delta.” He made a sound like a wounded animal.

  “Everyone knows you killed my sister, Ferraro. Miranda Steele is going to prove it.”

  He put both hands on his head, as if it were about to explode. “For God’s sake, Delta. Leave me alone.”

  “You’re going to jail, Ferraro.”

  His eyes rolled back in his head like he was going insane. “Shut up!” he screamed again. “How can you do this to me?”

  “You’ll rot in there. And then you’ll rot in hell.”

  “Shut up! Shut up!” He shoved her hard.

  She caught herself on the desk, knocking over a decorative pencil holder. “I can’t tell you how much I hate you.” She reared up and got in his face. “Murderer!”

  “You bitch, you.” He moved to her, slapped her hard.

  “How dare you strike me?” She slunk away from him. Her fingers found a round green vase on the shelf. She picked it up and hurled it at him.

  He ducked. It crashed against the wall. She ran from the room, crying.

  Miranda stopped the recording, and took a deep breath. Her pulse was pounding, her mind cloudy with the need for sleep.

  But she couldn’t let it go. Something wasn’t right. Why did Delta seem like the aggressor and Usher like a whipped puppy?

  One more time. She rewound to the place where Delta came into the library.