“You heard right. She quit.”
“Great managing. What did you do to piss off another of my staff?” he fumed.
I gave him a dirty look and responded by slamming the door on my way out of the office. I returned to my post out front. Pete would never make a scene in front of the staff or customers, so I felt pretty safe from any more drama once I was behind the counter.
About an hour later, Ryder came strolling through the door. When I saw him, my temper flared again. I was going to need anger management when this was all over. Stomping over to him, I grabbed him by the ear and yanked him back out the front door.
He whined, “Ow, ow, ow, ear, ear, ear!” until we were outside and I harshly let him go.
“You bastard! You deserted me, left me all alone in a dangerous neighborhood in a house that had been shot to shit, with a half…dead…PERSON!” I punctuated those last three words with three hard slaps on his arm. He didn’t flinch. “How could you do that to me? I was scared to death! I didn’t know where you went or if you were ever coming back! And then the police took me to the station, and I thought I was going to get arrested! What do you have to say for yourself?”
Ryder said solemnly, “I’m sorry. I took off after the shooter. I never would have left you alone if I didn’t think you were tough enough to handle it.” He tried to stroke my cheek, but I shoved his hand away.
“I needed you. And you left me.”
“I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t something a good boyfriend should do, but—”
“Whoa, slow your roll there.” I let out a short bark of laughter. “You’re not my boyfriend. Just because we slept together once—”
“Twice.”
“—doesn’t mean we owe each other anything. I was talking about doing a person the common courtesy that when you drive her someplace, especially the freaking ghetto, you’re obligated to drive her back!”
“What did you want me to do? Let the guy get away?”
I stopped and thought about it, realizing it probably was more useful to try to find who shot at us than to babysit me. “I suppose you have a point. But I’m still pissed at you. So did you catch him?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Unfortunately, no. It was a man in an old, beat-up sedan. He was wearing a ski mask, so I couldn’t get a positive ID. I chased him several blocks, but I lost him when I nearly got T-boned at an intersection. After that, I had a contact of mine run the plate, but the car was reported stolen this morning. No surprise there.”
Crossing my arms, I said, “So you don’t know who did it.”
“Well, I didn’t say that. I followed up on Dave Hill’s old cellmate and found out that he lives not too far from where the sedan was stolen.”
“You mean Rob Carmichael?”
“How did you find out his name?”
“Pete. Dave’s old cellmate is our cook Logan’s brother.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked sharply.
I raised one eyebrow and glared at him.
Giving me a half smile, he said, “Oh, right. Because I was gone. Never mind. As to who did the shooting, I doubt it was some random act of violence, even in that neighborhood. Since Ron had quit being a bookie and settled up with all of his customers a while ago, I also doubt that it was one of them. The only trouble Ron seems to have been in lately is his altercation with Johnny Brewer, so I’m assuming the shooter was either Brewer himself or Carmichael. And you’re not going to like this next part, but I also don’t think it was a coincidence that the drive-by happened when you were at Ron’s house.”
I frowned. “You’re right. I don’t like that. Did you talk to the police?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell them everything you just told me?”
“Yes.”
“Has either of them been arrested?”
“No.”
“If it’s so obvious, then why not?” I cried, frustrated.
“No proof. It turns out you can’t arrest someone without some kind of proof. That, and they’re both in the wind.”
“Great. Both of your shooter suspects, who are also possible murder suspects, are nowhere to be found. Wait, back up. I thought Johnny was already in jail, thanks to your bogus weapon plant.”
He hesitated, looking away. “He was…uh, let go this morning.”
I threw my hands in the air. “Are you freaking kidding me? The cops let him go, and the first thing he does is a drive-by? What were they thinking? This day has absolutely been from hell. I can’t stand much more.”
He frowned. “Did something else happen?”
“Wow. Where do I start? Aside from getting shot at and covered in blood trying to keep Ron alive—”
“You did a great job, by the way. I stopped by the hospital, and he’s out of surgery. They say he’s going to make it.”
“That’s one good thing. Anyway, Pete and I got into a huge fight and aren’t speaking to each other, one of my employees quit, and I got a scary phone call from a guy using a voice changer.”
He looked worried. “Ron said he got death threats from a caller with a voice changer. What did the caller say?”
“He started our conversation with, ‘I won’t miss next time.’ I think I made him mad after that, though.”
“How?”
“I got angry and may have screamed a few expletives at him. Then he said, ‘You’re dead.’ ”
Ryder pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Why did you feel the need to provoke him? Any normal woman would have been scared out of her damn mind.”
“I’d had a bad day, okay?” I huffed.
Looking down at me, he smiled and drew me into a hug. Even though I wasn’t over being deserted, I didn’t push him away, mostly because I really needed a hug. Comfort was the last thing I thought I’d get from Ryder, and unfortunately, it started my tears flowing again. At least this time I wasn’t sobbing uncontrollably, but I was dampening the front of his fitted black T-shirt.
He rubbed my back with long, gentle strokes. “Don’t worry. This will all be over before you know it. You’ll see.”
I heaved a shuddering breath. “Sorry. I’m a complete mess. There’s just so much going on. I feel overwhelmed and not in control. To top it off, Dave’s funeral is tomorrow morning.”
“Would you like me to take you?”
I popped my head up, confused by his question. “What, like a date? Because it’s weird that you would ask that.”
Stepping back, he gave me a mock wounded look. “I was just trying to be a gentleman.”
“There is nothing gentlemanly about you.”
“Let me prove you wrong.”
“I think I can handle it on my own, thanks.”
“Your loss. About tonight, I don’t think you should go back to your apartment until these guys are brought in.”
“Let me guess. You’re going to be a ‘gentleman’ and offer to let me to stay at your place.”
He nodded uncertainly. “Yeah, that was my plan. What’s wrong with that?”
“Really? Bringing a girl who’s an emotional wreck into your lair? That’s ten kinds of wrong, and you know it.”
He looked wounded for real now. “I was going to sleep on the couch.”
“Right. Because you’re such a gentleman.”
“Damn straight.”
I rolled my eyes. “Spare me.”
“Let’s put it this way—you don’t have a choice.”
“Is that so?”
Ryder’s eyes sparkled. “I have handcuffs, and I’m not afraid to use them.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Juliet, be reasonable. Johnny Brewer was lurking around outside your apartment last night with a knife. Either he or Rob Carmichael shot at you today. And I’m betting that it was one of them who called and told you that he wouldn’t miss next time. Do the math.”
“Fine, whatever. I give up. I can’t have a conversation with you if you’re going to throw facts i
n my face.”
He grinned at me. “I thought you’d see it my way. Now can you get me a Reuben sandwich, waitress? I’m starving.”
“Aaaaand…I hate you again.”
Ryder ate his dinner and left without causing any more commotion, mainly because I stayed behind the counter, and thankfully because Pete didn’t come out from wherever he was sulking. The rest of the evening was largely uneventful. That all changed at closing time.
Ryder came back to pick me up, unwisely deciding that he needed to come in and lounge on the couch while I was finishing up for the evening. Pete finally came out from the office, took one look at Ryder, and accosted him.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Pete said firmly, straightening up to his full height.
I didn’t like the expression on Ryder’s face. It was smug. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. For one thing, we’re closed, and for another thing, you’re no longer welcome here.”
Feigning ignorance, Ryder said, “I’m no longer welcome here? Why?”
I wasn’t sure whether I should jump in or not. Once he was mad, Pete could hold his own in an argument, as I had experienced this afternoon. If it came to blows, Ryder could wipe the floor with Pete…but I was pretty sure he wouldn’t do it in front of me. I also couldn’t decide whose side I was on, since I didn’t have a lot of use for either one of them today. Call it morbid curiosity, but I thought I’d let it play out.
“Because you’re trouble, and I don’t want trouble in my place. You nearly got my manager killed this morning, and I don’t want you around her anymore.”
Ryder glanced over at me and gave me one of his sexy smiles. “Your manager is a beautiful, intelligent, grown woman who can make her own choices. She happens to choose me tonight. Sorry, buddy.”
Oh, no, he didn’t. I could see a vein in Pete’s forehead pop out from across the room. Pete growled, “I think after today it’s pretty safe to say that you’re no mild-mannered professor. I don’t know what you’re playing at, but if you don’t get the hell out of here, I’m going to spill your secret to anyone who will listen.”
Ryder stood up then, fists clenched at his sides. He had a couple of inches on Pete, so he was just able to look down at him and be menacing. Testosterone. Yay. “That would be a big mistake.”
This nonsense needed to end. Now. Hurrying toward them, I called, “It’s time to go,” and snagged Ryder by the arm. I could feel Pete glaring at us all the way out the door. I didn’t like fighting with Pete. It was the worst feeling in the world—even worse than being shot at. It was breaking my heart.
Chapter 20
Ryder lived just west of downtown, in an older neighborhood with nicely kept up small homes. His tough guy, lone wolf persona didn’t really seem to fit the demographic of the area, which seemed to be families and older couples. I was sure that was just one of the many things that would remain a mystery about him.
He led me inside. It was sparsely furnished, like most single men’s homes. It smelled freshly cleaned, but I had a hard time picturing Ryder scrubbing a toilet or mopping a floor.
“Nice place,” I commented.
“Thanks.”
“I smell bleach. Did you come home and clean after you invited me over, or did you kill someone and have to destroy the evidence?”
Ryder laughed. “The first one. I’m not nearly as cold-blooded as you think. Have a seat. I’ll get you a beer.”
I plopped down on his puffy leather couch, sinking into the cushions. I hadn’t got to curl up on a real couch since I had moved down here. It was time I got some furniture.
He returned and handed me a bottle. I warned, “I might not be able to get back up off this couch. It’s comfy.”
“Just relax, then. You look like you could use it.”
“Thank you,” I said dryly.
He sat down next to me and draped his arm over the back of my seat. “Sorry. You’ve got to be tired. Do you really work over fifteen hours every day? I mean, you’re there the entire time Java Jive is open. How do you do it?”
“I take breaks. It does wonders for your mental health to step away from the job and do something totally different for a while. Like chasing down impostors and murderers and getting shot at, for example. Activities like that really get your mind off the monotony of your work.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you’re joking about it now instead of taking it out on my poor ear.” He rubbed his ear where I had yanked it earlier. “It still hurts.”
“Suck it up, you big baby,” I said, swatting him playfully.
Catching my hand, he held on to it. “Speaking of big babies, what crawled up your friend Pete’s ass? He’s usually one of those nice guys, but today he seemed to have some anger issues.”
“Well, for one thing, he was pretty much as pissed as I was that you left me at Ron’s house.”
Frowning, he stared at our entwined fingers. “You really shouldn’t have told him what we did this morning. I’m still undercover, you know.”
“He had to pick me up at the police station, and I was covered in blood. What was I supposed to tell him?”
He shrugged. “I see your point. How much does he know?”
I sighed. “Pretty much everything.”
“Juliet, come on. I told you a lot of stuff in confidence.”
“Pete’s cool. Even though he’s mad at us, he’s not going to blow your cover.”
“He said he would.”
“Trust me, he won’t. He’s just angry.”
“You got over it, mostly. Why can’t he?”
I winced. “Well, that wasn’t the bulk of what he was mad about. He knows we slept together.”
Ryder laid his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. “Sweetheart, you can’t keep a secret for shit.”
“Hey!” I cried, jerking my hand away and slapping him on the arm. “It wasn’t me! You couldn’t be bothered to throw your condom wrapper in the proper receptacle, and Pete found it on my floor.”
His jaw clenched. “So he was in your bedroom?”
Rolling my eyes, I said, “Get over yourself.”
“I’m a guy. I’m territorial.”
“Here’s a tip. The ladies don’t always like that. Sometimes muy macho comes off as muy estúpido.”
“Are you sure? Because most of the women I’ve dated—”
“Did any of them know your last name?” I snipped.
Narrowing his eyes at me, he said testily, “Yes, but—”
“So why can’t I?”
“It’s complicated.”
“No shit.” I stood up. “I’m ready to go to sleep now.”
He regarded me for a moment, then said, “My bedroom is down the hall. Make yourself at home.”
“Thanks.”
Ryder’s bedroom was much like the rest of the house—plain and mannish. He did, however, have a fluffy comforter that I couldn’t wait to snuggle under. But before I did, I had a little job to do. I was going to find out his last name. My thought was, if he had a landline, I’d use it to call my cell, get his number off the caller ID, and then turn around and reverse lookup the phone number. It was a genius plan, except when I looked around his room, there was no phone. Either he didn’t have a landline, or he didn’t have a handset in his bedroom. Bummer.
However, I had taken note of his address when we got to his house. Davidson County had this cool government website where you could look up property information on any building in the county. Property values and sales were public record, and along with that information came the full name of the owner. I quickly typed his address into their search bar and got a hit. As long as he wasn’t renting from someone else, I had him.
Score! This house belonged to one Ryder Patrick Hamilton. Ha! He’d at least told me the truth about his first name. I was about to Google him when there was a knock at the door. I threw my phone down guiltily.
Ryder stuck his head in. “Do you need something to sleep in? Or do you alw
ays sleep naked?”
Blushing, I said, “Something to sleep in would be great.”
His mouth curved up at the corner as he crossed the room. He pulled a T-shirt out of a drawer and tossed it to me. “Sweet dreams.” He disappeared out the door.
Diving back onto my phone, I quickly searched for “Ryder Hamilton, Nashville.” I came up with nothing, again! No social media, no phone listings, nada. He wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t have any social media profiles. Who does that? Everyone has some kind of electronic footprint. That is, unless he purposely scrubbed himself from the whole of the Internet. He obviously didn’t want to be found. But why? I didn’t have a clue, and I was betting he wasn’t about to tell me.
Dejected, I got ready for bed and crawled under Ryder’s heavenly comforter. Unfortunately, my mind was still swirling, rehashing everything that had happened today. I tried and tried, but I couldn’t sleep. After an hour or more of tossing and turning, I got up and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Ryder was up, typing something into his laptop. Something top secret, of course, because when he saw me, he slammed the lid down quickly.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked.
“Not a chance,” I said, draining my glass.
“Come and hang with me, then. Unless you’re still busy sulking.”
I hesitated, since I was only wearing his T-shirt. I didn’t trust him to keep his hands to himself.
He must have read my mind. “I’m not going to grope you.” Relenting, I went over to sit next to him on the couch. He put his arm around me and lowered his voice. “Although, when I can’t sleep, I find it helpful to—”
“Nice try, but I’m not in the mood. And I thought you said you weren’t going to grope me.”
“I’m not. I’m only letting you know that my services are available.”
“I’ll keep it in mind, Mr. Hamilton.” I couldn’t contain my glee any longer about finding out his last name.
His mouth dropped open. “What? How?”
I smiled. “You don’t need to know all of my secrets.”
Pulling away from me, he said, “This is serious. You can’t tell anyone.”
“Why? Are you a wanted man or something?” Watching him squirm was fun.
Death Before Decaf Page 20