by Dani Collins
“Like what? What’d he do?”
“I don’t know. Like one time there was this big scene at Dulles Airport. He had all these people standing on newspapers. Security thought he was taking people hostage. One man claimed he’d been hypnotized. Turns out Burke was exploring a new game idea and people were missing their flights because they were having fun.”
“Sounds like a jerk, all right.”
“He is! I swear he knew Alicia wasn’t pregnant. At the very least, he knew he hadn’t got her pregnant, so why would he sue for custody and risk being saddled with someone else’s kid?”
“What was with Alicia Mills starting a paternity suit when she wasn’t even pregnant?”
“Dreams of Hollywood, what else?”
“So what happened?”
“Burke got a public apology from her, she made a low-budget film and I—”
“Looked stupid.”
“Thank you. Yes, I did. I need to walk.”
“I’d go with you, but my legs are numb.”
“Nothing happens when you smoke dope.” She dropped out of the van, tried to pace off her nerves but it was impossible. She slid open the side door. Murphy was on his back with his eyes closed.
“Are you awake?”
“I was just thinking that if you were anything like the bran flakes living here, you’d take these signs as a warning to leave town. Your boss doesn’t want you here, your best source doesn’t want you here, and your nemesis doesn’t want you here.”
“My nemesis?”
“Not a comic book fan, are you?” He reached for a handful of jellybeans and dropped a few into his mouth.
Logically, she knew he was right. There were good reasons to leave town, the primary one being that if she so much as caught a glimpse of Conroy Burke in a background shot, he’d deep-six her career. It wasn’t too late to leave. Leaving made sense.
But she wanted to stay. Her belly was churning and her neck was tingling. She had told Murphy it was an anxiety attack, but it wasn’t. Slowly, she realized what was causing all these physiological firebombs.
“There’s a story here. I can feel it.”
He lifted his head, opened one eye and laughed.
“I’ve never felt it before but inside here—” She tapped her chest. “I’m clanging like a five-alarm fire. There’s a story in this town.”
“You’re willing to stake your job on altitude sickness?”
“Yes. Are you?”
He shrugged and let his head fall back again.
“I could use some enthusiasm here, Murph.”
“My generation is too jaded for battle cries.”
“Our generation,” she corrected. “You’re only four years younger than I am.”
“Yeah, but I’m still on this side of twenty-five.”
“So?”
“‘When you’re green, you’re growing. When you’re ripe, you rot.’ Ray Kroc, founder of McDonald’s.”
“Thanks. That’s very nice.” She managed to sound mildly disgusted. In reality, she knew she was ripe for success, but she would rot in Billings unless she taped something brilliant for Open Letter before tomorrow.
12:26 p.m.
Renny picked up a key card from the front desk, along with a message that Jacob was waiting in a suite on the top floor. She thanked Mr. Laramie, and, because there was a crowd waiting to register behind her, put off enlightening him on the real circumstances behind their arrival here. Besides, she was too relieved to have a quiet place to make her explanations to Jacob to risk getting kicked out first.
She entered the suite with a wilted spine and heavy feet.
The Juniper Hotel catered to winter living, with a big fireplace, furniture upholstered in thick, overstuffed corduroy and a sheepskin rug on the carpeted floor. This suite of rooms catered. Period. Half a dozen people could easily fit around the table beneath the glittery chandelier, another three could eat at the breakfast bar while Mom prepared a home-cooked meal in the kitchenette behind it and another dozen could eat off their laps in the horseshoe of sofas and armchairs where Jacob sat, feet up, reading a magazine entitled Reflexology for the Soul.
Since there was a security clip on the mini-fridge, Renny assumed it was fully stocked, and since there was a remote control on the coffee table, she assumed there was an entertainment center tucked away somewhere. If that was too relaxing, the busy executive could put in a hard day at the desk with its tent-card advertising loaner laptops.
Or he could abandon luxury altogether and go skiing. The open gold curtains let in the early summer sunshine and a view of the broken peaks across the valley. She could see the chairlift she, Mona and Jacob had taken last weekend and thought, Mona and I should come up when there’s snow.
But she wasn’t going to be working for Mona anymore, she remembered, and felt a pang of melancholy.
“Hungry?” Jacob asked, motioning to baskets of organic fruit, biscotti and Toblerone bars. They were arranged on the end tables and next to the magazines that had been fanned across the coffee table. She settled for smelling the bouquet of flowers, taking comfort from the gentle perfume of freesias and carnations.
Jacob set aside his magazine. “If Victor Laramie is involved in this scam,” he began.
“He’s not.”
“Oh. Then why—?”
“It’s a long story.” She went to him.
He stood and she let her forehead droop against the middle of his chest while she hugged him. “Con was trying to distract you so he and I could look for Felix.”
“Did you find him?” He cupped her shoulders.
“I found him, he recognized me, and he ran away before I could call the police. So I went to the police station and the deputy was too busy planting flowers to help me.”
“I beg your pardon?”
She lifted her head and found herself smiling despite her depression. “Apparently his wife, the sheriff, usually does the gardening around the station, but she’s expecting next month. He wanted the bedding plants in before she comes on shift so she wouldn’t strain herself. He’s quite excited. They’re planning a home birth. Their name choices are Destiny for a girl and Kismet for a boy. I didn’t ask whether or not they plan to circumcise.”
He winced.
“Sorry. I’m rambling to distract myself from self-pity.” She patted his chest and stepped away. There had been more. The deputy had spoken at length about the amount of legwork required in fraud cases and how little it paid off in terms of time served, how it took second place to violent crimes and how often the victims were their own worst enemies because they skirted legalities in order to “get a deal.” It had all been very depressing, and she had quickly seen how much more satisfying it would be to plant pansies in the sunshine.
Jacob didn’t say anything. His gaze dropped to the necklace she wore.
“Oh, you’re wondering about . . . the rest. Well, see, Con had an idea.” She cleared her throat. “He wants us to run a sting on Felix, to get Mona’s money back.”
“That sounds like something he would do, but not you.”
“Right.” Her cheeks went hot. “But Con is Con and he wanted to appear to be a profitable mark so he bought the jewelry and . . . ” She fingered the pattern of square emeralds that formed the chain and supported the marquise pendant that dangled like a green icicle between her breasts. “Well, you have to know him. He’s got more dollars than sense and is very persuasive. I’m not sure why I decided to go along and wear it.” She was aware that she wasn’t selling this well at all. “I guess I didn’t want to burn a bridge. I mean,” she rushed to add, “there was no point in ruining a chance to take this swindler by surprise, right?”
“Except he recognized you and now the opportunity is gone.”
“Yes,” she said heavily.
“I don’t understand.” Jacob touched his forehead. “Did you really intend to spend time with a professional criminal, earn his trust, then steal his money?”
“Of cour
se not!” Renny began back-pedaling. Seeing it from Jacob’s point of view made her realize it was beyond crazy. Normal people didn’t consider this kind of thing. It was Con’s fault. He put these ideas in her head, made them seem logical, and the next thing she knew, she was jeopardizing her engagement. “I’m just telling you what Con wanted to do. I went along with changing my appearance because I didn’t want Felix to recognize me when I identified him.”
“To the police?”
“To the police, yes.”
“I’m relieved to hear it. It could have been dangerous.”
“I doubt it,” she said, shaking her head. Con artists prided themselves on talking their way through trouble. Fists and weapons were the tools of lesser criminals. “He was in the middle of a scam when we saw him. Has Con come back, by the way?”
Jacob shook his head.
“Oh. I wonder where he went? Anyway, the mar—victims left before money changed hands, so they must have had a shred of self-preservation. But Felix isn’t going to stop ripping people off. I really wanted to stop him.” She lifted her gaze, expecting to see a reflection of the profound disappointment she felt.
He smiled, indulgent. “You did your best.”
She didn’t feel as though she had. When she had seen Felix setting up that nice-looking older couple, she had wanted to do more than stop him. She had wanted to make him pay. Big time.
“You’re feeling very blue about this, aren’t you? I know exactly what you need.” Jacob took her hand and led her to the bedroom.
Her heart tripped. He had been so adamant about waiting. She had been comfortable with waiting. She halted just inside the bedroom.
Jacob drew her forward a few more steps and leaned past her to gently shut the door.
12:42 p.m.
Con paused in the lobby long enough to check in with his new best friend, Victor Laramie, Manager of the Year, or so the framed photograph above the registration desk proclaimed.
“Has Renny turned up?” he asked Laramie.
“Miss O’Laughlin collected her own keycard about fifteen minutes ago.” He slid a plastic card across the green marble countertop.
Con made a mental note to ask Renny if she had paid for the room. It was something she would do, to ease her conscience over that fib about buying the hotel. He hoped not. He’d like to see how far they could take this, just for the amusement factor.
“Such a lovely lady, Miss O’Laughlin,” Laramie gushed, smoothly drawing out a map to provide directions to the suite. “I have a call in to Head Office regarding your visit. I should hear from them within the hour. Shall I come up for a meeting then?”
“Sounds great,” Con agreed, having no idea if he’d be around for said meeting. He caught the express elevator, wondering whether Laila Washington had spoken to Renny.
He didn’t know what was wrong with him. Normally he would have relished a confrontation with the reporter, would have taken her on like a matador with a bull, but the prospect of doing it in front of Renny had tripped him up. Laila might regurgitate all that crap about his being unfit to raise a child, and he wasn’t prepared to face that in front of Renny. Not that he thought Renny believed it. She probably didn’t. The problem was, deep down, he did.
So Con had ducked down the nearest alley to avoid facing that particular reality and had come out behind the restaurant in time to see Felix pop out the back door. He had followed Felix to an upscale condo a few blocks off of Main Street.
Felix had dropped his keys from a shaky grip before stepping into the safety of the building and Con had hung around behind a rhododendron long enough to see the vertical blinds twitch on a bottom-floor set of patio doors. A few minutes later, Felix had come out carrying a box and loaded it into a yellow car, an ancient eastern European job that aspired to be a hatchback.
Felix was obviously spooked and preparing to leave town. Con figured they had to move fast if they were going to bait, catch and fry him before he left. The game was heating up and he couldn’t wait to involve Renny.
From the elevator, he jogged to the door of the suite. Inside, no one sat on the wooden stools tucked under the pine slab that served as a bar, or sprawled on the sheep remains in front of the fire, or sat at the glossy oak table by the window, or looked for notepaper to steal out of the Shaker-style desk. He suspected the doors leading off the main room led to a bathroom and a bedroom. Renny must be in the bathroom, he decided.
He opened his mouth to call for her, but she made a noise first. A sweet, breathy, familiar noise. A passionate groan that had tickled his ear enough times to wash him in the heat of excitement when he heard it now.
Then he realized someone else was wringing that response out of her. His temperature flew past latent arousal to instant rage.
She was fucking Jacob? Here? In this suite? Now?
Blind fury lifted his foot and he kicked the bedroom door under the knob.
The doorjamb cracked and the door slammed through to the inside wall, banging like a thunderclap.
Renny and Jacob froze, eyes wide as they stared at him.
Renny was fully clothed, sitting in a straight-backed wooden chair pulled close to the end of the bed. Her bare foot rested in Jacob’s hands. Jake had removed his tie but otherwise looked as buttoned and zipped as when Con had met him. The bedspread, a pale-yellow down-filled quilt about three feet thick, was undisturbed except for the imprint of Jake’s ass.
Slowly Renny withdrew her foot and tucked both her feet under her chair, lowering her eyes as she did.
Con’s heart pounded so hard he thought his ribs would develop a stress fracture. The sound of his pulse rang in his ears, filling the silence. All he could think was that he had finally experienced a conventional response: murderous jealousy.
* * *
Renny had never seen Con angry.
He shook it off and adopted his good-natured poker face, but that glimpse of his homicidal expression would stick with her forever. For a few seconds his gaze had been a knife blade that had plunged between her breasts.
Her chest still hurt, as if her heart were clenched in a fist. It wasn’t the violence of his crashing through the door that upset her, though. It was the emotion behind it. For Con to project so much threat, he must have felt something extreme.
Possessiveness? Competition? Betrayal?
She wanted to reassure him, even though she hadn’t been doing anything more provocative than receiving a foot massage. Confused, she looked around for her shoes and slipped them on, then stood like a reprimanded schoolgirl. It was silly. She hadn’t been doing anything dirty and, even if she had, it wasn’t any of Con’s business. She and Jacob were engaged. It wasn’t like she had been cheating on him.
Even if it felt like it.
“We were waiting for you to get back,” she said in a subdued voice. “I lost Felix and the police can’t help. We want to go back your Gran’s now.”
“I know where Felix is. Let’s go.” Con held out his hand.
“What? Where?”
“To his apartment.”
Jacob spoke from behind her. “Why don’t you call the police to meet you there?”
“They can’t arrest him without evidence. Mona paid cash. It’s her word against his,” Renny reminded Con, dragging her feet.
“So distract him while I have a look around his apartment,” Con said.
“Maybe I could get a confession out of him.” Renny felt a spark of anticipation.
“You want to ask a criminal about his activities while you facilitate a breaking and entering on his residence?” Jacob asked, following them into the main room.
“Um, no.” Renny checked her blind impulse to leave with Con. “I’d like to confront him is all.”
“The day is half gone. If we don’t get back to Greenbowl, our wedding will be ruined,” Jacob said.
“That’s a shame. Let’s go.” Con snapped his fingers, urging her to go with him.
“Renny, you wanted a proper wedding and I
want to give it to you. You did your best, now let’s leave it to the police and get on our way.”
“Felix is leaving town and the cops won’t be able to find him,” Con said. “It’s up to you and me to stop him. If we don’t, he’s going to keep stealing from people like Gran. Can you live with that?”
“Neither of you is even looking at me. You’re acting like this is a showdown, like I have to choose—”
“You do,” the two men said together.
“Testosterone! I swear it’s a four-letter word. Why I couldn’t be attracted to a quiet man who knows how to compromise—Spencer! Jacob, call Spencer. Ask him to fly out here. It will buy us an hour if we don’t have to drive back to Greenbowl. That’s okay, right, Con?”
“That means leaving my Jag here—”
“So you’re admitting it would have been more practical if we had brought Jacob’s Mercedes in the first place?”
“Are you going to stand around nit-picking? We have work to do.”
“Tell Jacob he can call Spencer.”
“Sure, fine. You’ll have to pick him up from whatever serves as a heli-pad around here.” Con reached forward and grasped Renny’s arm.
“I’ll be back as soon as—”
Con tugged her into the hall and let the door fall shut.
She had to concentrate to keep from tripping in her high heels as she trotted to keep up with him. In the elevator, she caught her breath and said, “You can quit playing the dominant male any time.”
“I am the dominant male.”
“Oh, please. There was no need to break down the door. You’ll have to pay for that, you know.”
“Let’s talk about it later.” He winked and smiled, but there was something hard in his grin.
“But—”
“Or maybe let’s never mention it again.”
Renny eyed Con uncertainly.
The elevator came to rest on the lobby level and he took her arm again as they wove between the clusters of new arrivals and out the doors. It was too busy to wait for the car so they walked the handful of blocks off Main to a three-story condominium complex where they ducked behind a boxy cedar hedge. Flowers decorated a few balcony rails, but Con pointed to a bare cement patio and said, “That one’s his.”