by Tawny Weber
“I want the option of taking that long. I don’t know how long I’ll need to settle this issue.” Or for Andrea to arrange time off. “You go ahead and take the two weeks off.”
After a few more instructions, he finished the phone call.
Life was damn good.
Now that his suspicions were confirmed, he just had to brief Andrea and see how she wanted to handle the situation. Then she could go home and pack her bikini.
He hoped it was a red one.
Percy’s body, still warm and naked from his phone-call-interrupted search for Andrea after waking alone, stirred at the thought of Andrea in a bikini, stretched out under the sun. He couldn’t wait to rub oil all over her delicious body.
“Andrea?” he called.
Nothing. No response. Not even a bark from her canine shadow.
He checked the bedroom, but they weren’t there.
Nor were they in the shower.
He’d heard her come back in from walking the dog. Where’d she go? He searched the condo, calling for both Andrea and the dog. It wasn’t until he was out on the deck yelling and someone whistled that he remembered that he was buck naked.
He hurried back inside.
And noticed her shoes were gone. So was the dog’s fancy bag. They’d been there when he’d got up to watch her and the dog play on the cliffs. So why’d she come in and get them?
Call him slow, but it actually took another search of the condo before it hit him. Percy froze in the kitchen doorway. Son of a bitch.
She’d left him?
Again?
Just like before.
Grinding his teeth, Percy stomped over and threw himself on the couch. Much like a pouty little brat, he acknowledged, whose fun toy had been taken away.
Leaning his head back against the cushion, he closed his eyes and sighed.
What the hell had happened? They were getting along great. The sex had been amazing. They’d laughed, they’d talked, they’d reached a level of intimacy that he hadn’t realized existed. He beat his clenched fist against his bare thigh. And now she was gone?
Was this a test? Her way of checking to see if he’d really chase after her? His ego protested. He’d never chased anyone. His heart screamed to get off his ass and go get her.
Percy was halfway across the room when he spied the dog on the deck. Frantically jumping up against the glass door as if it had springs in its feet, the dog’s weird hair was flying all over the place. Its tiny body was vibrating as it scratched desperately on the glass.
“Shit.”
Percy sprinted across the room. He barely slid the door open when Medusa launched herself into his arms. Maybe she really did have springs in her feet.
“Hey, you’re terrified, aren’t you?” He tried to get a look at her face, but she kept burrowing her pointy nose into his neck and whimpering.
He cursed a blue streak. “Who the hell makes a dog whimper?”
Duh.
It was only because his arms were filled with a petrified, naked dog that Percy didn’t smack himself in the forehead with the heel of his hand.
“The asshole found us.”
Still shivering, Medusa pulled her snout from his throat, looked him in the face and gave a series of sharp yaps.
Confirmation?
Maybe she was as brilliant as Andrea claimed.
“Son of a bitch. Does he have Andrea?”
The dog barked again, scratching at his chest as if she was trying to make him hurry up and do something.
Since his chest was still bare, much like the rest of his body, there was an extra urgency to her plea.
“Wait here,” he told her, setting her on the couch and running for his pants and shoes. He didn’t make two steps before the dog was at his heels, yapping and running in circles around him, trying to herd him toward the front door.
“If I go like this, I’ll get arrested. We can’t rescue her if I’m being hauled away on indecent-exposure charges,” he explained. Not bothering to look for his boxers, he yanked his jeans up, shoving his feet in his sneakers at the same time. He grabbed the dog, tucking it under his arm like a football.
“I can move faster than you,” he told Medusa as he tore out the front door. “And fast is important. I’ll be damned if that son of a bitch is going to hurt Andrea again.”
CHAPTER 12
PANIC CLUTCHED ITS GREASY FIST around Andrea’s stomach. Her breath hitched and black spots danced frantically in front of her eyes. She should have run to Percy. Not away from him. What was she thinking, having to prove something?
All she’d proven was that her hair made a great leash and that she was an idiot.
Blinking fast to clear her vision, she tried to clear her mind, too. Girl safety one-oh-one, don’t let them get you alone. His grip was too tight for her to move her head, so she could only scan the neighborhood as far as her eyes could roll.
To the left? Nobody.
To the right? Nobody.
There were only four condos on the block. She’d seen people on the cliffs, but that was so far away. If she screamed, would anyone hear? Not caring if she ended up bald, she pulled against the goon’s grip.
“Where’s the dog?” he repeated.
“Gone,” Andrea gasped, trying to turn around. She’d rather struggle face-to-face. She might have a teensy chance of escaping then. And it would be a smidge less humiliating.
The goon let go of her hair, grabbing her shoulder and doing the turning for her.
“Where’s your boyfriend? He got the dog?”
“He’s gone. He and the dog are well away from you.”
“His car’s on the street, which means he’s still here. Which condo? I want that dog. I promised my old lady, and I don’t like to disappoint her.” He pulled her closer, growling through clenched teeth to emphasize just how much he needed it. “So you better tell me where it is.”
Andrea pressed her lips together and lifted her chin in defiance.
The guy’s beady eyes rounded. Clearly, he wasn’t used to being denied. He gave a slow, pitying shake of his head. Then he gripped her arms in both of his meaty hands and lifted her a foot higher, so she was eye to eye with his threatening glare.
“Where. Is. The. Dog?”
“Away from you,” Andrea told him, her feet twitching in horror at being so far away from the ground.
God, how stupid was she?
She’d run away from the one person who could protect her. And why? Because she’d jumped to conclusions and listened to her self-doubts instead of trusting her instincts. Instincts that had demanded she believe in Percy. That she believe in herself. She’d used saving Medusa as her easy out, her excuse to run.
And look where that had got her.
“You’d better let me go,” she warned. “My boyfriend is going to kick your ass if you don’t.”
“That pansy? I’ll mop the sidewalk with his face if he gets in my way.” Still, the guy loosened his grip, so she slid down, her feet gratefully gripping the ground again.
Now what? Did she scream until someone came running? Did she knee him in the groin and hope he wasn’t as thick and stupid there as he was in the head? Escape options raced through her mind. She had about thirty seconds until it was too late, so she had to act fast.
Before she could decide what to do, though, her captor grunted. His eyes rolled back in his head and he heaved a sigh that washed over her like a tidal wave of bad breath.
Her eyes huge, her mouth probably just as rounded, Andrea watched him slowly crumple into a huge pile of passed-out goon.
“Oh, my…” Her shocked gaze rose. There, his shirt flapping open around that gorgeously muscled chest, was her hero. His hair was mussed, his jaw shadowed and the butt of the gun
he’d used to hit the guy on the head loose in his hand. Totally macho, with Medusa cuddled in his arm like a ferocious baby, her hair flying around her like it was alive as she growled at the lump at their feet.
“C’mon,” Percy said, his voice the same growling tone as Medusa’s. “Let’s go.”
He grabbed her hand with his free one, dragging her toward his car. They raced for his Vette. Percy, clearly having not planned for a fast getaway, dug the keys out of his pocket even as he looked over his shoulder.
“Shit.” He shoved the key into the lock, twisted, then yanked the door open. He pushed her in, barely giving her time for her butt to meet the leather before he thrust Medusa into her arms. “He’s coming.”
As Percy ran around the car, Andrea leaned over to pull up the old-fashioned lock on his door. He flew into the driver’s seat and had the key starting the ignition before she’d cleared the console back to her own side.
“Go, go, go,” she chanted, her seat belt clicking into place about the same time as the Corvette hit the main street. She wrapped one hand around Medusa while the other dug into the armrest.
“What are we doing?” she asked.
“Hang on.” Using the car’s Bluetooth, Percy punched a button on his cell.
“Yeah,” answered a woman, her voice raspy through the car’s speakers. She sounded like a two-pack-a-day geriatric with an attitude.
“Track me, call the cops. The bruiser is on our tail.” Percy glanced in the rearview mirror, then read off a license plate number. Before the voice could respond, he disconnected.
“What’s going on?” Andrea asked, turning in her seat to look at Percy. She’d rather watch his face than the road flying past. Actually, she’d rather watch his face than almost anything. Gratitude tangled with guilt, layering over overwhelming adoration at the sight of him. “How’d that guy find us?”
“I figure he found us through the dog’s GPS tracker. We forgot the tracker was in your purse.” Andrea winced, but he didn’t seem to blame her. “That was my secretary, Jolene, on the phone. She’s calling the cops, giving them our coordinates and his plate number. She’ll call in a few favors so they hold him long enough for us to settle things.”
That gravelly-voiced woman was his secretary? She didn’t sound young and sexy. She sounded old and cranky.
Andrea knew the situation was serious since there was a creep with a head of steel chasing them. But all she could think of was Percy. Of finding a way to apologize, of trying to explain. Before she could figure out how, though, he continued.
“Or until his girlfriend, Raye Jensen, pays bail.”
That got her full attention.
“Raye, of Diamonds and Doggies, is behind this? She tried to steal Medusa? Are you sure?”
“Yep. He’s her live-in boyfriend.”
Mouth open, Andrea twisted in her seat to look at the creep chasing them. “Him? I wouldn’t have thought he was Raye’s type. I wouldn’t think he was anyone’s type.”
“Same address, couple of domestic-dispute calls with no charges filed but enough details to confirm he’s her main squeeze.”
Andrea tried to force her shocked brain to find a justifiable reason for the other woman to do something so despicable. She couldn’t.
“So the Days are both innocent?” Andrea tried to reconcile that with her previous conviction that Gregory Day was a stone-cold asshole who wouldn’t think twice about arranging to have a perfect stranger tied up and a tiny dog terrified.
“Oh, no,” Percy said tightly. “They are both guilty as hell. But not of hiring our friend back there.”
Andrea felt like an emotional yo-yo. Up, down, sideways and totally confused. Rubbing two fingers over her temple, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she looked at Percy and, with every bit of clarity she had, asked, “Huh?”
“That custody agreement Day provided when he hired me? It’s falsified. Essentially, he was hiring me to do just what the goon did, but in a fancier way. Steal the dog. When I was on the phone with Jolene earlier, she gave me the lowdown. He’s using the dog to get to his ex. He has no interest in keeping her, just in causing trouble.”
Using her, then tossing her aside. Andrea’s heart dropped. He hadn’t been talking about tossing her aside. He’d been talking about Day tossing Medusa aside.
Andrea silently groaned. She’d jumped to conclusions, run from Percy again without explaining why and almost lost Medusa to that creep. All because she was so insecure, she assumed Percy couldn’t possibly want to keep her.
Instead, he’d come after her.
He’d saved her and Medusa.
Andrea took a deep breath, trying to calm shaky nerves tying her stomach in knots. No more insecurities. From now on, she wasn’t letting fear stand in the way of what she wanted.
And she wanted Percy. For good.
“Yeah, Day’s a real prize,” Percy continued, oblivious to the fact that Andrea had just overcome a major emotional hurdle and was going be making his life very interesting from now on.
“As for the ex,” he continued, “I don’t have her on anything specific. Except that six months ago she was photographed in the San Francisco Chronicle with Medusa and the Jensen woman. So they have a connection. I just need a little leverage to find out what it is.”
Grateful for the reprieve from making any emotional overtures, Andrea forced herself to focus on the case. She wanted to ask what leverage, but at this point, he was doing at least eighty down a frontage road, the bruiser’s Honda about a half mile back.
Suddenly, the sound of sirens filled the air. She turned in her seat to watch three police cars surround the Honda, forcing it to stop.
She gave a loud cheer and shared a grin with Percy.
“And that’s our leverage,” he said with a laugh, slowing down, then moving over to the side of the road. They watched until the cops had the guy in handcuffs, then Percy pulled out his cell phone.
“Make the call,” he ordered whoever was on the other end. Then he tossed the phone on the console, gave Andrea a quick kiss that sent her stomach tumbling, fluffed Medusa’s hair and took off again.
“Where are we going?” she asked once they hit the freeway and Percy’s driving settled into a low rumble.
“To end this. Jolene’s calling the Days to demand they meet us immediately.”
Nerves replaced the triumph in her tummy. Ending things usually meant confrontations. She was really, really bad at those. But—she shot Percy a quick glance—she’d handle it.
“Good,” she said decisively, lifting her chin despite the nerves. “I’m ready to settle…”
Her words trailed off as horror set in.
“What’s wrong?”
Andrea tried to bury her burning cheeks in the dog’s fur. But Medusa didn’t have enough to hide the glow.
“Andrea?”
“I left my undies in the apartment,” she muttered.
Percy burst into laughter.
Wrinkling her nose, she pulled her face out of the dog’s fluff to give him a chiding look. “It’s not funny.”
“Sure it is. I left mine in the apartment, too.”
Andrea had to slap a hand over her mouth to try to hold back the giggles. Then Percy grinned, giving her a wink. And she quit trying to hold back anything. Not the laughter, which rang through the car. Not the intense feelings she had for him, which were inching scarily close to the big L.
“Then I guess that makes us the perfect match,” she said, putting herself out there like never before.
A part of her was terrified, worried that he didn’t think they were a match, perfect or not. The rest of her was terrified he did.
Then Medusa gave her a look. Pure doggie approval. It froze the terror, so all Andrea felt was joy. Happy, falling in love joy.
* * *
PERCY GRINNED. WHAT DID IT SAY about the two of them roaring into a confrontation with one of the wealthiest men in northern California while neither of them was wearing underwear. Ballsy and cocky came to mind. But while he figured those labels fit him perfectly, they definitely didn’t apply to Andrea.
He glanced over. She was murmuring endearments to Medusa, and giggling when the dog licked her nose in reply.
Sure, he was the big bad detective, used to taking risks. But Andrea had put everything that mattered to her on the line. Her career. Her reputation. For a dog.
His gaze fell on Medusa, now curled in ball, her black-and-white-speckled, hairless skin a vivid contrast to Andrea’s purple dress.
Some things were worth fighting for.
Like women who knew what mattered.
* * *
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, PERCY pulled into the wide, sweeping driveway of the Day mansion and parked in front of one of the two portico columns leading to the atrium-style entry.
“I guess its confrontation time,” Andrea said quietly.
“Not yet,” he said. “I’m waiting to hear back from Jolene to see if she managed to leverage any info.”
“Waiting,” she murmured. “Waiting is good. It gives me time to say goodbye.…”
Her words trailed off and she took a shaky breath before burying her face in the dog’s hair. Percy frowned, realizing he didn’t like the idea of splitting up the dog and Andrea again, either. Medusa’s beady black eyes bored into him, intent and demanding. What she expected him to do, he had no idea.
Before he could figure it out, his phone chirped. He glanced at the text and grinned.
“We’re good to go. If my plan works, we’ll both be walking away today with exactly what we want,” he promised. He’d wait until later to tell her that what he wanted was, well, her.
Five minutes and a handful of dog treats later, the three of them were shown into the Days’ parlor. Percy exchanged a grimace with Andrea as they stepped through the entry.
“Don’t think we needed the escort,” he murmured as the maid yelled, three times, to announce their presence.