by Rebecca Deel
That got her moving. She wanted a shower. In her bedroom, she dropped her purse on the bed as Rio walked into the bathroom, gathered a towel and washcloth, and laid them on the counter.
He came back out, dropped a light kiss on her lips. “Warm water, babe.” He slipped into the hall and eased the door almost shut. Darcy figured that was as much of a concession as she would get from him. Aware of her waning strength, she grabbed a change of clothes. By the time she finished her shower, Darcy was trembling. She dragged on her clothes, found a pair of socks, considered pulling them on herself, then thought better of it. Opening the door, she said, “Rio, would you mind helping with my socks and shoes?”
“Of course not.” Her boyfriend straightened from the wall. When she sat on the bed, he dropped to his knees in front of her. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
After tying on her tennis shoes, he stood and held out a hand. “Let’s see what’s in the refrigerator. If nothing appeals, I’ll run out to Delaney’s.”
Fortunately, Nate had left enough food to prevent Rio returning to the cold outdoors. Darcy wanted to laugh at herself. The medic had been exposed to much harsher conditions on missions than a couple minutes out in the cold.
Mason and Trent joined them in the kitchen for a meal of chicken salad sandwiches, chips, fruit, and a drink. She had the same, minus chips or bread.
Halfway through the meal, Rio’s cell phone chirped. A glance at the screen and he made a call.
“Murphy.”
“Zane, it’s Rio. You’re on speaker. What can you tell me?”
“Troy Sutton is a three-time loser. Spent ten years as a guest of the state. Three convictions on burglary charges. All high-end stuff.”
“Must not be top of the food chain if he got caught three times.”
“Not even close. His only claim to fame is he attempted to steal the Collinsworth diamonds in Memphis. That attempt landed him behind bars for three years.”
“What about Allen White?”
Darcy’s fork slipped out of her hand. “Allen? You’re investigating my agent?”
“Hello, Darcy,” Zane said after a pause. “How are you, sugar?”
“A little worse for wear.”
“What happened?”
She gave her friend a condensed version of the afternoon’s events. “I’m bruised, but fine.”
“Rio?”
Darcy frowned at the cell phone. “Hey, I’m still here. You think I’m lying to you?”
“Nope. Downplaying the seriousness of your injuries like your brother does.”
She turned her gaze to Trent. “Is that right? What did you tell him about this round of injuries?”
Her brother shrugged. “That it was just a scratch.”
She rolled her eyes. No wonder Zane questioned her honesty.
“She sustained a cut to her forehead which required fifteen stitches,” Rio answered. “Other than that, she has a headache, bruises, and soreness that I suspect will take a while to dissipate.”
“Just bruises, huh?” Zane’s sarcasm came through the phone loud and clear.
“What about White?” the medic prompted.
“In debt up to his ears and desperate for Darcy to go back on the road.”
“I don’t understand,” Darcy said. “He’s one of the most sought after agents on the circuit.”
“That was before he started representing you five years ago. White spent most of his time on the road with you, leaving a junior agent in charge of the office and all of his other clients. The junior agent didn’t pay attention to details or cater to the clients as White did for you. He’s down to a handful of clients and his lifestyle can’t be sustained by the few he represents as none of them are the powerhouses that you are.”
“Were,” she corrected.
“Sugar, you’ve been off the concert stage a few weeks. Trust me, you still have the ability to pack a performance hall.”
“How long has White been in Otter Creek?” Rio asked.
“His credit card bill shows he registered at the motel two weeks ago.”
Darcy’s breath escaped in a whoosh. Allen lied to her. She wondered what other lies he’d told.
“What about Gretchen Bond?” Rio asked.
“Stella’s looking into Ms. Bond and the house. Maddox pulled me off your search to support another team.”
“When you have time, keep digging into White and Sutton. I want to know if there’s any connection between the two. See if you can uncover the identity of Sutton’s crew.”
“Copy that.”
“Did you check into Doug Walsh?”
“He’s a real jewel. In and out of prison for theft and assault since he was 18. His name also popped up in a few suspicious deaths in prison, but the officials had no proof he was involved. He also hails from around Otter Creek. Darcy, be careful, sugar. Got a feeling we’re only seeing on the surface.”
That made two of them. She shivered as goosebumps surged up her spine, hoping no one else would be hurt before they figured out what was worth killing over.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Once the others were asleep, Rio settled onto the recliner and called his team leader.
“How’s Darcy?” were the first words out of Josh’s mouth.
“Sleeping off a massive headache. Stitches in her forehead, soft tissue damage.”
“I saw what was left of her car. She’s lucky to be alive, Rio.”
“I know.” Just remembering the state of her car sent a fresh surge of fury through his body. His hand clenched around the phone. “You on patrol tonight?”
“I’m on duty in a couple hours. What do you need?”
“Keep an eye on the motel. Darcy’s agent lied about how long he’s been in town. Makes me wonder if there’s something else he’s lying about.” He summarized Zane’s information.
Josh whistled softly. “Gives him motive to encourage your girl to return to the performance stage.”
“Even if she agreed, it would only be for a short time.”
A pause, then, “Moving fast, aren’t you, Rio?”
He frowned, thought through what he’d said. “I didn’t mean that like it sounded.” Although claiming Darcy for his own permanently appealed more than he’d ever dreamed. “Darcy’s health won’t allow her to continue in that career.”
“Trent didn’t say anything about her health.”
“He won’t until she agrees to share the news. The last thing Darcy wants is publicity on this.”
“Her agent isn’t as discriminating?”
“Exactly. I warned him about talking to the press, but that’s no guarantee he won’t capitalize on the publicity.”
A snort from his friend. “You and Trent will mop the floor with him if he does.”
“White thinks I’m all brawn and no brain.”
“Then he’s a fool. Don’t worry. I’ll swing by the motel several times during my shift.”
“Thanks. Is it too late to call your father?”
“He’ll be up for another hour at least. Mom’s a night owl.”
He wanted to set an appointment to ask about Gretchen Bond. Though he wanted to learn what he could as soon as possible, Rio was due at PSI in the morning. Trent was mobile enough to care for himself. Plus, Mason had been given the green light to work on shoring up Darcy’s floor, which meant he’d be available if they needed help. “Great. I’ll call him in a bit. Darcy and I have questions about Ms. Bond.”
“He’s the man to ask. If he doesn’t know, Mom probably does. She might not contribute to the Otter Creek grapevine, but she’s plugged into it. You still off tomorrow?”
“Nope. Johnson’s wife is scheduled for a C-section tomorrow.” A minute later, Rio ended the call and dialed Aaron Cahill’s number. Liz answered the phone. “It’s Rio. Hope I’m not calling too late.”
“Of course not. What can I do for you, Rio?”
“I need to speak to Aaron.”
“Sure.
And stop by when you have time, son. It’s been too long since we’ve had a chance to visit.”
Warmth spread through him. “I’ll do that. I want to introduce you to Darcy.”
“Come to dinner one night so we’ll have time to get acquainted.”
“I’ll talk to Darcy and get back to you.”
“Here’s Aaron.”
“What do you need, son?”
“A little time with you. My girlfriend and I have questions about Gretchen Bond.”
A chuckle from Josh’s father. “Girlfriend, huh? You have excellent taste, my friend. She reminds me of Liz when we were dating.”
Rio had to grin at that comment. He loved watching Aaron and Liz Cahill. They were obviously in love even after so many years of marriage.
“When is a good time for you and your girl?”
“One evening. I return to work at PSI tomorrow.”
“Hold on a minute.” After a muffled conversation with Liz, he returned. “Why don’t you come to dinner tomorrow night?”
“Darcy’s asleep right now. I’ll ask her in the morning if that’s not too late to confirm with Liz.”
“That’s fine. Josh tells me an injured teammate is in town. Invite him along with Mason.”
“Thank you, sir. Tell Liz Darcy can’t eat anything processed.”
“I’ll do that. So you and Darcy want to know about Ms. Bond. Does this have anything to do with her murder?”
“We’re hoping you can help us figure that out. Strange things are happening in connection with the house.”
After ending the call to Aaron, Rio stared at his phone a minute, then made one final call.
“Yeah, Elliott.”
“It’s Rio.”
“What’s up?”
“Are you sending someone to help Mason tomorrow?”
“Planned on it. Why?”
“Don’t send Doug Walsh.”
“Why not?”
“He has a record, Brian. I don’t want him near Darcy.”
“Two things. One, he served his time and deserves a chance, just like your cousin deserves one. Two, Walsh is my employee, not yours. You do not have the right to tell me which employees I send on a job.” Rage vibrated in the contractor’s voice.
Rio’s own temper spiked. “You’re a professional, Brian. So am I. Security is my business. Darcy’s safety is my top priority. Assign someone else to assist Mason, or PSI will reconsider hiring Elliott Construction for any future projects.” A potent threat as PSI had many campus buildings in the planning stages.
“You play hardball,” he muttered.
“When it comes to the wellbeing of the woman I care about, count on it.”
“All right. I’ll keep Walsh at the deli.” Elliott ended the call.
Rio checked the locks and security system, then got ready for bed. When he turned out the light, the memory of Darcy’s crushed car and blood-streaked face kept him awake long into the night.
When his alarm blared at four in the morning, he growled and turned off the blasted thing before dragging himself out of bed and into his running clothes and shoes. Some days, leading by example hurt more than others. This day was one of those. Of course, it didn’t help that he’d tossed and turned until just after one. When he’d fallen asleep, his dreams had been a nasty mixture of Delta missions gone wrong interspersed with Darcy’s accident.
Rio yanked on a knit hat and stepped outside. The frigid air slapped him in the face, a sharp wakeup in the quiet hour before dawn. He set a slow pace, allowing his muscles to warm.
Half a mile from Darcy’s house, a prowl car slowed to a crawl beside him. He glanced over. “Morning, Major.”
Instead of a return greeting, Josh leaned over and opened the passenger door. “Get in.”
Rio’s eyebrows rose. He recognized an order from his team leader when he heard it. “Yes, sir.” What was going on? Josh didn’t say anything on the drive to Darcy’s.
Nick Santana’s vehicle sat in the driveway. He got out of the car as soon as Josh parked.
Not good. A ball of ice formed in his stomach. Something was definitely wrong. He glanced toward the house, noted the lights. “Darcy?”
“Let’s go inside,” Josh murmured.
He scrambled from the patrol car, ran up the porch stairs, and threw open the front door. Trent climbed to his feet, clad in sleep pants and a t-shirt declaring that the Navy ruled. “Where is she?”
“Kitchen.”
He ran, not daring to slow until he’d seen with his own eyes that she was safe. “Darcy.”
She spun. “Rio.” Darcy drew a deep breath, relief flooding her expression. “I was worried. Nick and Josh wouldn’t tell me what they wanted.”
He blinked. They were looking for him? Why? He lifted her chin and kissed her. “You’re okay? Nothing happened while I was running?”
“We’re fine.”
“How do you feel?”
“Not bad, considering.”
One by one, Rio’s muscles relaxed. He turned as Nick and Josh walked into the kitchen. Rio glanced at Nick, but his main attention focused on Josh. His teammate was grim. This wasn’t going to be good. “What’s wrong?”
“We need to ask you some questions,” Nick said. “We can do this here or at the station. Your choice.”
“Here, provided I can shower off the sweat before you grill me.” There was no doubt in his mind that that was what his friend intended. Did Nick remember that Rio was Special Forces, trained to deal with interrogations? He figured it wouldn’t be in his best interests to remind the cop of his training.
The detective gave a curt nod. “Don’t take long.” He signaled Josh to go with him.
Rio’s fists clenched. “That isn’t necessary.” Did Nick think he had so little honor as to dive out a window and take off rather than face trouble head on? And, yeah, he knew there was trouble. Otherwise, the detective wouldn’t be here so early in the morning. No one delivered good news this time of day.
“Stand down,” Josh murmured. “It’s standard operating procedure. Nick’s just doing his job.”
“I don’t know what you think I’ve done, Detective, but I’m not a flight risk.”
Nick sighed, his expression troubled. “No one said you were. Get moving, Rio. We’ll sort everything out when you’ve cleaned up.”
Face burning, Rio yanked off his shirt on the way to his room. He snatched his work clothes. “You camping in the bathroom with me, Major? We both know I could slip out the window and be gone before Santana could sound the alarm.” And that was probably why the detective had sent Josh to babysit. Only Josh and a healthy Trent stood a chance of stopping him.
Josh scowled at him. “Hurry up, Kincaid. I have a breakfast date with my wife in a couple hours.” He sat in an armchair facing the bathroom door and pulled out his cell phone. Seconds later, his tone softened when his call was answered. “Morning, beautiful.” His team leader waved at Rio to proceed.
He knew better than to demand answers from his teammate. On missions, he kept Durango in the information loop because their lives depended on it. In the civilian world, however, Josh answered to others higher in rank, including Nick.
After a quick shower and shave, Rio emerged from the bathroom dressed in black camouflage pants and long-sleeved t-shirt. He laced up his combat boots while Josh finished his call to Del, then strapped on his holster and weapon.
His teammate stood.
“Advice?”
“You need an alibi for the hours between ten last night and two this morning.”
“Then I’m out of luck. I don’t have much of one except sleep.” Well, trying to sleep anyway. Between insomnia and nightmares, his few minutes of sleep was anything but restful. He strode down the hall with Durango’s leader close on his heels.
Rio returned to the kitchen where Darcy handed him a mug of steaming coffee. “Thanks, sweetheart.” He eyed the detective sitting at the table, holding his own mug of coffee. “What’s this about, N
ick?”
His friend motioned for him to sit. “Where were you last night and this morning between ten and two?”
“Here. Darcy, Trent, and Mason all went to bed about that time. I called Josh at 10:30, then talked to Aaron and Liz about 10:45. That conversation lasted until around 11:00. Then I called Brian Elliott. After that, I went to bed and got up at 4:00 to run. Your turn, Santana. What is this about?”
“Troy Sutton was murdered last night.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Murdered?” Rio’s stomach knotted. “And you think I did it?” Nice. What happened to trust? Nick should know him well enough by now to offer him the benefit of the doubt. And his teammate, Josh, had been in the trenches of war with him for years. Did he really think Rio would stoop as low as murder? “I thought he was in jail.”
“He was released late yesterday afternoon.”
He scowled. “And you didn’t tell us? Thought you were supposed to protect and serve, Nick.”
“Sergeant,” Josh snapped.
Nick held up one hand, fending off Josh’s dressing down, the other hand clenched around the mug, the only sign of his irritation at Rio’s remark. “I’m not on day shift this month, Kincaid,” he said, his tone mild. “I was working Darcy’s accident and didn’t find out Sutton made bail until I identified the body at the crime scene.”
Darcy laid her hand on Rio’s shoulder as she set a plate with two wraps on it in front of him. She squeezed his shoulder before grabbing more plates for Nick, Trent, Mason, and Josh.
Rio downed one of the wraps before trusting himself to talk. Though he knew the food was good, the turmoil in his gut made the wrap taste as bland as sawdust. “How did Sutton die?”
A glance at Darcy before the detective answered. “He was beaten to death.”
Color drained from his girlfriend’s face. “Sit down, sweetheart.” Rio pulled out the chair next to his for her and rose to nuke some chamomile tea. “My hands don’t have injuries, Nick.”
“Didn’t say anything about the perp using his hands.”
He glanced over his shoulder as he closed the microwave door. “Do you know what weapon was used?”