Blogger Bundle Volume VIII: SBTB's Harlequins That Hooked You

by Jennifer Crusie

  Even the employees at the Grand Hotel were suspects, but he doubted any of them knew something that they hadn’t already told the police.

  Dane and Annie were driving between Montgomery and Birmingham when Dane asked her about lunch. “Are you hungry? We can stop in Birmingham, if you are.”

  “I’m not hungry. But I am a little thirsty.” Annie gazed out the side window of the beige sedan.

  Dane wanted an excuse to stop soon—an excuse that wouldn’t upset Annie. He’d noticed that a black car had been behind them ever since they went through Spanish Fort, hours ago. Either the two men were coincidentally taking the same route as he and Annie or they were following them. If that were the case, the driver knew how to keep a discreet distance, often allowing one or two cars to come between them. And Dane hadn’t made any sudden moves to test their followers, because he didn’t want to let them know he was aware of their presence.

  “How about stopping for a milk shake?” Dane suggested. I think I saw a sign about a Dairy Dip a few miles up the road.”

  “Chocolate.” Annie sighed.

  “Two chocolate milk shakes. I knew we had to have something in common, other than our love for the sea.”

  Dane took the next exit and within minutes pulled up in front of the Dairy Dip. The black car exited, but drove past the Dairy Dip and parked at the Mini-Mart across the street.

  “Do you think it’s safe to get out?” Annie asked.

  “What?”

  “Do you suppose those two men in the black car are going to whip out an Uzi and blow us away?”

  Dane chuckled. “You already knew, didn’t you, that they’ve been behind us ever since—”

  “Spanish Fort.”

  “Smarty-pants.”

  “So, do you think they’re following us…following me?”

  “Maybe,” Dane said. “Maybe not. I thought we could pull off for something to drink or eat without arousing their suspicions that I—pardon me—that we were on to them.”

  “What if they hadn’t exited off of I-65?”

  “Then we wouldn’t have anything to worry about, would we?”

  “But we have something to worry about now, don’t we?” Annie glanced across the street at the dark car that seemed to be waiting. But waiting for what?

  Chapter 7

  “So what are we going to do?” Annie asked.

  “I’m going to get us a couple of chocolate milk shakes,” Dane said as he opened the door. “I can keep an eye on you from the walk-up window.”

  “I meant, what are we going to do about the men who are following us?” Annie tilted her head so she could see Dane’s face when he got out of the car.

  Dane stooped over, stuck his head back into the car and smiled. “We aren’t going to do anything. I am going to wait until we finish our milk-shakes and see what those guys do. If they’re still just sitting over there at the Mini-Mart, then I’m going to call Lieutenant McCullough and have him run a check on their license plate number.”

  “Don’t you dare start out this relationship by being condescending to me, Dane Carmichael!” Annie stuck her index finger in his face. “Whatever happens in this case, you and I are in it together. So when I say we, I mean we. Not you!”

  Grinning, Dane closed the door and walked away. Annie’s initial reaction was to get out of the car, follow him and blast him with a few more well-chosen words. But on second thought, she just crossed her arms over her chest and sat there fuming.

  A few minutes later Dane tapped on the window. He held up two large plastic cups. Annie slid across the seat, opened the door and reached up for her drink.

  “Our friends haven’t budged,” Dane told her as he slid into the seat and closed the door behind him. “One of them got out and went into the Mini-Mart. But they’re still sitting over there.”

  “Waiting for us.”

  “Probably.”

  Dane started the motor and turned on the radio. After switching through several stations, he stopped on an Oldies station that was playing the best of Roy Orbison.

  Annie enjoyed the milk shake. But then, she’d had a love affair with chocolate since tasting her first chocolate Easter Bunny when she was a child. When she finished the shake, she handed the empty cup to Dane, who had already drunk his and was looking into the rearview mirror.

  “Are they still there?” she asked.

  “Yes.” He glanced at her, grinned, then reached over and wiped the corner of her mouth with the paper napkin he held.

  Warmth spread from her stomach through her body when he touched her. Involuntarily, she smiled at him. The rat-a-tat-tat of her heart drummed in her ears.

  Dane broke eye contact and she wondered if he’d been as ridiculously affected by that slight gesture—by that brush of his fingers against her mouth—as she had been.

  He jerked the cell phone from his jacket pocket, whipped out a white business card, scanned it quickly and then dialed a number.

  She listened, waiting patiently for Dane to complete his conversation with Lieutenant McCullough. Hearing only Dane’s questions and comments, Annie wasn’t able to deduce much, and that irritated her. Suddenly Dane chuckled. Annie eyed him quizzically, wanting him to tell her what was going on. He laughed again, this time longer and more light-heartedly. She punched his arm and glared at him.

  She mouthed the words, “What’s going on?”

  Dane shook his head, cautioning her not to interrupt, then he said into the phone, “Yeah, well, thanks, but you could have saved me some worry if you’d told me.” He flipped the phone lid closed and returned it to his pocket, then turned to Annie. “Buckle up. It’s safe to head out now.”

  Dane buckled his seat belt, then started the engine. Annie grabbed his arm and shook him.

  “Tell me, dammit!”

  He grinned at her. “It seems McCullough’s feeling real guilty for not taking you seriously when you first went to him with the story about Halley being murdered.”

  “So?”

  “So, he called in a few favors and got a couple of off-duty Mobile policemen to follow us to Birmingham, where a couple more cops will take over and go all the way to Florence with us.”

  “That numbskull! Why didn’t he just tell us that he had arranged—”

  “He didn’t think we’d spot our escort.” Dane reached over, pulled her safety belt into place and then put the car in reverse.

  “Oh, yeah, sure.” Annie snorted. “He didn’t think a private security agent, a former FBI agent, would notice. Even I noticed!”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go home first?” Dane asked, as they drove through Florence several hours later.

  “No. I told Mother, when I called her, that we were going to Halley’s apartment first.” Keeping watch on the traffic on Florence Boulevard, Annie pointed to the left side of the road at the red light. “Turn here. Halley’s apartment is about half a mile down the road.”

  “Just what do you think we’ll find at Halley’s?” Dane took a left when the light turned green.

  “I have no idea. Maybe a clue of some kind. She has a computer there, so maybe she left some notes on it. Or maybe she sent the package she mailed from Foley to her house, intending to give it to me later.”

  “If she didn’t unearth this story until she arrived in Point Clear and opened the package, then she probably didn’t leave anything in her apartment that would point us in the right direction.”

  “The night Halley called me, not much she said made sense.” Annie closed her eyes momentarily as memories of her protégée’s pretty, young, smiling face flashed through her mind. “She had just started to explain things when the line went dead.”

  “Exactly what else did she say to you, other than she had come across the story of a lifetime?”

  “Before she mentioned that, she said something about if she’d known what was in the package, she’d have opened it before she’d left home.”

  “We’re back to that package again.”

/>   “The apartment is right up there. Turn in. That’s Halley’s building, the first one on the right.”

  Dane drove under the decorative metal entrance arch to Garden Grove, a modern apartment complex consisting of five, two-story brick buildings, each with either a patio or a balcony. The thick, green lawns were immaculately maintained. Spring flowers grew in profusion in neat beds, and young trees stretched toward the sky.

  “Apartment A-2,” Annie said.

  Dane parked in an empty slot, then killed the motor. “Do you want to wait here and let me go check—”

  “No!” Annie flung open the door, then jumped out and slammed the door behind her.

  Dane shrugged. Foolish question, Carmichael, he reminded himself. This lady doesn’t want to be left out, left behind or left alone. And she certainly doesn’t want to let a man do the job for her.

  Dane locked the car, shoved the keys into his pants’ pocket and stepped up onto the sidewalk beside a nervous, toe-tapping Annie. “You lead the way, honey.”

  She tossed him an eat-dirt-and-die glance, then flounced off toward the steps leading up to the second level apartments. Before they reached the door of A-2, Annie rummaged around in her purse, pulled out the two keys Clay Boyd had given her and chose the larger of the two.

  Pausing outside Halley’s apartment, Annie inserted the key into the lock, turned it and sighed when she heard a distinct click. She opened the door and entered the quiet, dark foyer. Clutching both keys in her hand, she stood for a moment, unmoving, uncertain what they might find. After following her inside, Dane flipped on the light switch and closed the door.

  “My God!” Annie had never seen anything like the disaster that lay before them in the living room, which was an open area directly off the small foyer.

  The room had been ransacked. Furniture overturned. Lamps broken. Bookshelves emptied. Pictures ripped from the walls. Knickknacks, photo albums and throw pillows littered the floor.

  “Looks like somebody’s already been here,” Dane said.

  Annie allowed her gaze to travel the length and breadth of Halley’s living room as she tried to assimilate the gravity of the situation.

  “Whoever did this was looking for something,” Annie said as much to herself as to Dane. “Probably whatever was in that package.”

  “I’d agree with you there.” Dane turned to the closed door on the left, twisted the brass knob and eased the door open. “Well, they did a thorough job of it.”

  Halley’s bedroom had been struck by the same devastation, even her bed had been striped down to the mattress, which lay sideways across the box spring.

  Annie made her way through the wreckage, being careful not to step on any of the broken glass. “Her computer is on her desk, in here. Ah, damn!”

  Dane’s gaze halted on the mangled computer and smashed monitor lying on the floor. “I’d say somebody took great delight in doing that. My bet is they wiped the computer clean before they demolished it.”

  “If there was anything to find, they found it before we got here,” Annie said.

  Annie’s shoulders slumped. She felt a sense of defeat, as if she had lost a battle. She had hoped they could find some tidbit in Halley’s apartment, something—anything—that could give them a clue as to why someone kidnapped her and probably killed her. And why that same someone wanted Annie dead, too.

  “If they didn’t find what they were looking for, then they’re going to assume you have it or know where it is.”

  “And we have to assume that whatever they’re looking for is in the package that Halley told Jarrod Fines she was mailing to her boss. That means she sent me the information. So, where is it? It hasn’t arrived at my office or at my home. Where could she have sent it?”

  Coming up behind her, Dane swallowed Annie in his embrace. Bringing her back to rest against his chest, he leaned over, close to her ear and said, “Come on, Annie, let me take you home.”

  She hated herself for loving the feel of Dane’s big, strong arms around her, for enjoying the comfort of his caring words. “We need to call the police,” she told him.

  “I can do that on the way to your house.” He slipped his arm around her waist and pivoted her slowly, until they stood side by side. “There’s nothing we can do here. You need to go home and get some rest.”

  “I want to go to the cottage.” Annie held up the second key. “Maybe they don’t know about her parents’ place on the lake.”

  “How far is it to the lake?” Dane asked.

  “It’s a forty-minute drive from here,” she said.

  “Then we’re not going now.” Dane tried to lead her forward, but she balked.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re exhausted. You need—”

  “I need to find out who’s trying to kill me!”

  He hugged her in the most reassuring way he knew how. “Listen to me.” He tilted her chin just a fraction, his touch soothing and gentle. “If they don’t know about the lake house, then it’ll be there waiting for us—untouched. And if they know about it, they’ve probably already given it the same treatment they gave this place.” Despite knowing she wouldn’t like it, he shushed her when she started to protest. “I’m taking you home. You need a decent meal and at least a nap before we do any more sleuthing today. And you’re getting an appointment to have that knife wound checked.” He glanced at her side.

  “You’re very bossy, Mr. Carmichael.”

  “So I’ve been told,” he replied. “But God knows someone needs to boss you around and make sure you take care of yourself.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself without any help from you or anyone else.” She pulled away from him and rushed from the bedroom, into the foyer and out the front door.

  Dane caught up with her on the sidewalk. “This will be a lot easier if you work with me and stop fighting me every inch of the way.”

  “Our arrangement has to work only until Dundee’s can send another agent to replace you,” she told him. “I just hope the next agent remembers that I’m the employer and he’s the employee—something that you apparently choose to forget.”

  When he reached out to grab her shoulder, she sidestepped to prevent him from touching her. Huffing loudly, he shrugged. “Part of my job as your bodyguard is to protect you, and that includes taking care of you.”

  “Your job is to act as my bodyguard, not my caretaker! You aren’t my father and you’re certainly not my… Just unlock the damn car and take me home.”

  “You’re right. I’m not your father or your husband, but I think you’re the one who keeps getting me confused with them.”

  Dane pulled the car into the four-car garage at the back of the three-story brick home in the historic district. He had grown up in a house similar to this one, its portico supported by Doric columns and massive magnolias shading the structure from the hot Southern sun.

  “My mother and her sister inherited this place when their parents died,” Annie told him as they headed toward the back door. “She bought out Aunt Vera’s share and moved here after my father died.”

  “I’m surprised you’d live in an old place like this, considering how you feel about tradition and—”

  “It isn’t old houses I object to, it’s antiquated ideas.”

  Just as Annie reached to open the back door, it swung open and an attractive woman, as petite and slender as Annie, rushed outside. She threw her arms around Annie.

  “Thank the Lord you’re finally home. I’ve been simply worried sick.” The woman’s accent was decidedly Southern, with a hint of superiority to it that reminded Dane of his mother.

  Annie draped her arm around the older woman’s shoulders. “Mother, this is Dane Carmichael.”

  “The man who saved your life?” Jennifer Harden surveyed him from head to toe, taking in every inch. “I don’t know how to thank you, Mr. Carmichael. Annie means everything to me. She’s all I have.” Jennifer held out her small hand. Jeweled rings sparkl
ed on several fingers. Her long, oval nails matched the pink in her linen slacks and silk blouse.

  “Please, call me Dane.” He took her proffered hand into his. “Ma’am, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Annie speaks highly of you.”

  “Well, Mr. Car—Dane, I’m pleased to welcome you to our home.”

  Fluttering her eyelashes, Jennifer smiled sweetly. Her whole body seemed to soften right in front of his eyes. Totally feminine in a genteel way that flattered a man, Mrs. Harden reacted to Dane’s courtesy much as his mother reacted to any gentleman’s. Old-fashioned Southern women had a way of boosting a man’s ego with nothing more than a look—a look that said she appreciated his masculinity and strength.

  So what the hell had happened to Annie? The apple didn’t usually fall far from the tree, but in this case, little Annie Apple had rolled a million miles away from Mother Tree.

  Dane turned to Annie. “Why don’t you go on in? I’ll get our bags.” He excused himself and went back into the garage.

  “You know this is Helen’s off day, so there isn’t any supper prepared,” Jennifer said. “I’m going out to dinner with your aunt Vera and uncle Royce. Why don’t you and Dane join us?”

  Annie led her mother into the modern kitchen, which had retained the feel of the older home through its mix of wood cabinetry, finishes and oversize crown molding. A six-foot-long, built-in bench was framed by two doors that opened into the sunroom.

  Pausing by the gleaming wood table, Annie removed her arm from her mother’s shoulders. “I think we’ll pass on going out for dinner. We’ll fix sandwiches here. I need to phone Dr. Lowery and make an appointment for him to take a look at my side. After that, I’d like to get a little rest, and Dane probably needs to make a few phone calls.” She knew she should tell her mother that she planned for Dane and her to drive up to the Robinsons’s lake cottage this evening, but she wanted to spare her mother any needless worry.