Kiss Me Deadly

by Susan Kearney

  “Then what do you do?” He could tell that this particular case upset her. He’d once thought Mandy too soft to make a good attorney, but now he knew better. She had a core of steel beneath her vulnerable exterior, even when forced outside her comfort zone.

  She shrugged. “It depends. I try to take only the cases I believe in.” Her voice tightened with regret. “If a client misrepresents their situation, I make it clear I won’t be the best person to represent their case, then I try to get them to seek a new advocate. If children are in danger, it makes it more complicated . . .”

  Zack didn’t want to think about injured children. Not when he didn’t even have to close his eyes to see Todd. He’d never forget that little boy in his arms. The blood seeping from his mouth. His small body trembling. Confusion and fear in eyes that slowly clouded, until he just stared—empty—the life gone.

  Zack gestured to the files. “Who else do you have that might display a proclivity for violence?”

  “Lisa was overseeing a PI we hired to investigate a case. At first we thought the ex was only cheating, but he’s using crystal meth. There’s a possibility of HIV.” Outrage made her words sharp. “The wife’s being tested. However, the husband wasn’t just careless about who he nailed. He quit his treatment program, stalked his wife to the women’s shelter, and broke her jaw. She pressed charges.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Mandy sighed. “He’s out on bail.”

  “But he’s dangerous.”

  “The jails are full. We’ve filed for a restraining order on the wife’s behalf, but these guys never care about the law . . .” She frowned. “Any or all of these men could be angry enough to come after us personally. Or the attacks might not have anything to do with work. Our names have been all over the papers and the TV news in connection with our winning the lottery.”

  He understood her frustration. “Investigations take time. The homicide detectives will check out Lisa’s ex-husband and lover. Meanwhile, I’d like to discreetly investigate these other men from your joint cases.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Won’t the police do that?”

  “My source said the police are overworked and the investigation is going slowly. They have several murder cases under investigation, and they’re trying to track down the missing county administrator, Mitch Anderson. Official resources are stretched. Right now, their primary focus is on Lisa’s ex-lover and ex-husband. Besides, if we check things out quietly, we protect the firm’s clients. If possible I’d prefer that Mom’s firm not take even more of a hit than it already has.”

  “Zack, I just want to go back to my life . . . the way it was.”

  “Not possible. Not until we find out who’s after you. Neither you, Dana, Mom, or any of your coworkers will be safe until we catch whoever is behind the violence.”

  “We’re dealing with two violent men.”

  “Perhaps the stockbroker or the pediatrician hired muscle to go after you. We need to talk to them as well as the guy on crystal meth.”

  She tapped her fingers on the table, then shoved to her feet. “I owe it to Lisa to find out what happened. We all do.”

  He wasn’t surprised by her reaction. “So you’ll help me?”

  “What exactly would we be doing?”

  He tossed money and a tip on the table and stood. “We talk to your clients’ ex-spouses and their neighbors and friends to learn if they have alibis for the time when Lisa was murdered.”

  She raised a challenging eyebrow. “And if they don’t?”

  “We dig deeper.”

  Chapter Twelve

  DANA STARED at the windshield, at the lights sparkling on the bay as her newly assigned bodyguard maneuvered through traffic toward her home. Catherine had meant well, and Dana understood her caution after Lisa’s murder and the attack at the airport. But the tight quarters of the Jag left her feeling suffocated and edgy, with not only her new protector, Tom Wainscott, but her mother and another bodyguard in the backseat. She remembered how hard Mandy had resisted personal protection and understood.

  During the drive home, Dana fretted that she still couldn’t remember the attack that had placed her in the hospital. Luckily, she’d only forgotten the few minutes right before she’d suffered her head injury, a common reaction to a concussion, her doctors had said. All she recalled was fleeing from the reporters in the terminal, riding in the elevator, and then waking up in the hospital.

  “Mom,” she said to Catherine, trying to ignore the two strangers now privy to the conversation. “Suppose I saw something important last night but can’t recall it due to my amnesia?”

  “That’s unlikely. Mandy gave a description of the attacker and the vehicle to the police. You probably didn’t see more than she did. Don’t try to force the memory. The doctor said you need to relax.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Dana snapped. Her head hurt. Lisa was dead, and she was worried about the other members of their firm—especially Mandy. “What did Mandy say after she learned you’d appointed Zack as her bodyguard?”

  “I wasn’t there,” Catherine’s tone remained mild, giving Dana little clue to what she was thinking.

  Tom turned the car into Dana’s driveway without their instructing him. The familiar angle iron fence surrounded an immaculate yard framed by ferns, snow on the mountain, and lilies. As always, the lush landscaping made Dana grateful to come home. She looked forward to sitting on her back porch under the granddaddy oaks covered in Spanish moss that draped the backyard set on a deep lot right on Tampa Bay.

  “Stop, please, and let me grab the mail,” Dana requested.

  “I’ll get it.” Tom opened the window, took the mail from the box and handed it to her. She thumbed through bills, and at the sight of a thick manila envelope, the adoption application forms she’d requested, her mood improved. Sam spent too much time working, and their marriage was suffering, due to his absences. She hoped children would renew his interest in coming home. Quickly, she hid the papers behind a magazine. She didn’t want Catherine to guess at her intentions before she’d had a chance to talk over the process again with Sam and get him on board with her plan.

  Tom tapped in the gate’s security code as if he’d been a life-long visitor. Apparently, in her usual efficient manner, her mother hadn’t missed a detail when briefing the bodyguard. The black metal gates swung open, allowing them to proceed to the home Sam had bought for Dana after he’d won his first major case—the acquittal of a hotel heiress accused of murdering her sister and the lover they’d shared. The juicy details had made national headlines for months, and the acquittal of his wealthy client had made Sam a multimillionaire.

  He was so proud of his career, his powerful friends and their home, the sweeping lawns edged with split-leaf philodendron, the circular brick drive lined with royal palms. Sam was proud of Dana, too. And yet, she often wished she could go back to the time in their marriage when Sam had had time to dote on her. Her only major disappointment in life was her inability to conceive and begin the large family they wanted. But for once she was grateful she didn’t have children to leave motherless.

  After two attacks, Mandy must be concerned that someone might find her, kill her, and leave her daughter parentless—a child who was the spitting image of Zack at that very same age. At first Dana had believed Mandy’s story about an accidental pregnancy after a one-night stand. But after Gabby had been born, it hadn’t been difficult for Catherine and Dana to count backward and figure out that Zack was Gabrielle’s father.

  Dana had tried to get Mandy to fess up. But Mandy wouldn’t come clean. Dana hadn’t wanted to put a strain on their friendship, especially when Mandy had been going out of her way to involve Dana and Catherine in Gabby’s life. Family-by-love, Mandy had called them when she’d asked Dana and Sam to be godparents. Neither Catherine nor Dana had ever indicated to Mandy or Zac
k they knew the identity of Gabrielle’s father, believing the two parents must work out their differences in their own time.

  It was a difficult situation, Dana knew. Zack had channeled his grief over their brother’s death into a crusade against the drug dealers. It was a noble cause, but one with a high price tag. He had no life. Only work. Dana ached for her brother, who didn’t know he had a beautiful daughter. She also ached for her best friend, who hadn’t gotten a chance to even try for a relationship with the father of her child.

  But Dana knew her friend, and didn’t think Mandy would keep her secret forever. Not if it meant Gabby growing up without knowing the truth about all her family. Dana hoped, anyway.

  She sighed. If nothing else the next few days were going to prove interesting, which was, no doubt, why Catherine had thrown Zack and Mandy together again. Her mother probably wanted to shake loose a few more truths besides who was after them.

  The bodyguard swung the Jag under the circular portico and parked beside Sam’s Escalade. Tom perused the grounds, then opened Dana’s door. Her mother’s bodyguard did the same for Catherine.

  Sam and Dylan, the mayor, stepped through the elegant double front doors and headed toward them over a brick path. As their vehicle pulled up, Dylan waved, got into his car, and drove away.

  Looking handsome in his custom-tailored Armani suit, which set off his broad shoulders and powerful chest, Sam headed toward them with an innate confidence she’d always admired. Sam was a self-made man and proud of his success. He could be stubborn, bull-headed at times, but what others might call arrogance, Dana saw as self-assurance.

  Catherine peered over her sunglasses. “Sam’s here? I thought he had court today.”

  Well briefed, efficient, and quiet, their bodyguards stayed vigilant but relaxed, obviously recognizing Dana’s husband. If Dana had to have someone dogging her footsteps, she appreciated Tom’s cool efficiency.

  “Sam must have finished early.” Dana hurried toward her husband, anticipating his embrace and the chance to revel in the safety of his arms.

  Sam’s timing—as if he’d been waiting for their arrival—was impeccable as usual. He walked toward them, removing his jacket and loosening his tie. When he reached Dana, he gave her a much-needed hug. “The judge heard what happened to you and delayed the trial a day.”

  “Tell him thank you.” Dana kissed his lips.

  “I suspect he wanted an excuse to take the day off to go fishing.” Sam’s mouth curved into a pleased smile, and his eyes warmed with pleasure.

  “Maybe he wants to search for the county administrator,” Dana said. “The mayor still hasn’t heard if Mitch Anderson’s been found?”

  Sam shook his head. “Nothing yet.”

  “No matter the reason, I’m glad you’re here,” Dana told him, knowing he likely had a stack of messages and phone calls to return at the office and appreciating his taking time off from work.

  “With Sam here to pamper you, I’ll feel better about leaving.” Catherine kissed Dana’s cheek. “Bye. And don’t forget the doctor ordered you to rest.”

  “I’ll see to it.” Taking over the way he always did, Sam placed a comforting arm around Dana’s waist, nodded to Catherine, and dismissed Tom with a gesture, waving him to the guesthouse. He murmured in Dana’s ear, “Let’s get you to bed.”

  She groaned at the thought of another bed. “Why don’t we sit by the pool?”

  “All right. But no TV. No work.”

  “TV helps me rest.” The background noise comforted her, but Sam never had understood that, yet to give him credit, he usually didn’t object to her habit of turning on the TV in whatever room she happened to be in. He hadn’t even protested when she’d asked the carpenters to mount a set on the back porch by the barbecue.

  “All right. We’ll talk by the pool.” Sam’s voice turned serious.

  “Talk about what?” From his tone he clearly had a topic in mind. Sam was well connected in city politics, and his many high-profile cases had earned him certain perks, allowing him to hear insider news. At the hospital, he’d been on a first-name basis with half the board of directors. Once he’d taken over, she’d had a private room, nurses hovering. It also meant that if the police turned up anything on their attacker, the police chief would likely call Sam himself. “What have you heard?

  “Nothing on your assault.”

  “About Lisa?”

  “No, honey. I’m sorry.”

  “The missing lottery ticket?”

  “No luck there, either.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment flooded her. Not so much for herself. Sam already earned enough money that she didn’t have to work. However, that lottery money would provide security, luxury, and independence for her friends. But most of all, they were all living under so much stress from not knowing who’d attacked them or why.

  The backyard was their oasis from the hectic pace of the office. The sea breeze from Tampa Bay never failed to invigorate her, and the trickling water that tumbled over a wall from the whirlpool into the lap pool soothed her almost as much as the TV would have done. The Florida heat felt good on her skin.

  She set down the mail, eased into a chaise lounge, trailed her fingers into the pool water, closed her eyes, and let the sun soak into her bones. “Ah, that sun feels good.”

  Sam took a spot beside her but in the shade of several queen palms. “You aren’t falling asleep, are you?”

  Recalling that he’d wanted to talk about something, she opened her eyes and looked at him. Really looked. Usually his every hair was in place, his grooming immaculate. But the night with her in the hospital had taken a toll. He appeared edgy and worried, but also seemed uncomfortable showing his concern. Sam made all the right gestures of a loving husband, but he rarely said the words anymore. But then he hadn’t been home in the middle of the day like this in years. Sam’s parents were workaholics, too, and they hadn’t shown affection either. She’d learned to accept that to him saying I love you meant he was showing vulnerability that he equated with weakness. What counted was that when it mattered, he was there for her.

  “I’m okay. What is it?” She reassured and prodded, sensing his reluctance to say anything that might disturb her. “Why was Dylan here?”

  “We’d planned to meet for lunch. When the judge delayed the case, I wanted to be here for you—so we linked up here.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “With Mitch Anderson missing, Dylan just needed my take on some legal matters.”

  Dana raised her eyebrow. Sam was a criminal attorney, but he did have intricate knowledge about the working of local government. “You’re doing too much. Between your law practice and your real estate ventures—”

  “That’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

  Something was wrong on his real estate ventures, Dana decided. Although he refused to worry her, she’d rather he confided than tried to protect her. Imagining what could go wrong was usually worse than the truth. She was about to ask, when he spoke. “Remember the race car driver accused of running over five people in Miami?”

  “Ben Morrison?” She stared at Sam. “He wasn’t just accused. He was guilty. They caught him on video tape, his vehicle slamming into those poor people.”

  “He claims his chief pit mechanic—who he’d fired the week before—messed with the brakes on his car. Due to the publicity in Miami, the jury pool was tainted. The judge changed the venue to Tampa—”

  “So they want you on his case?” she guessed.

  Sam nodded, his eyes shining with pleasure that he was the lawyer to bring in. Outsiders now recognized that her husband had all the right connections. She could see the battle light blazing in his eyes, his barely contained energy. He couldn’t wait to be back in the limelight.

  She kept her tone even. “You told me you wouldn’
t take another huge case this year.” It meant hours of studying depositions, consultations with expert witnesses, and going over tactics. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the thick manila envelope. “Sam, I was hoping we could start the adoption process. It means filling out forms, parenting interviews, taking evaluations.”

  Gently he took the envelope from her hand and tossed it aside. He patted her hand, then locked their fingers together and lightly squeezed. “I don’t want to adopt. I want children that come from my genes.”

  “We’ve been trying for five years.”

  “The doctors haven’t found anything wrong with either of us. It’ll happen.”

  “And if it does, we can have an even bigger family. We won’t stop trying, but why not adopt, too?”

  Sam’s face tightened, and he released her hand. “All my brothers have kids, and they don’t support their families anywhere near as well as I do you.”

  Dana saw no reason to point out that the ability to conceive children had nothing to do with financial success or business acumen. To Sam, the inability to have kids was a failure, and he couldn’t abide failure of any kind.

  “I won’t raise someone else’s child,” he snapped. “I want to raise my own.”

  She knew it was his hurt pride talking. “Sam, you adore Gabrielle. We’re her godparents. If anything ever happened to Mandy, I’d be willing to raise Gabby as my own and so would you.”

  “Wrong.” Sam stood and began to pace. “You adore Gabby because Mandy’s your friend.” At his cool tone, she bit her lip. “Mandy may not even know who the father is.”

  His accusation was unfair, but she turned it to her advantage. “That’s my point. I love Gabby for herself—not because of who supplied her DNA—and so do you.” Of course she suspected Gabby’s dad was Zack, but she’d never reveal Mandy’s secret to Sam. Her husband and brother didn’t get along. She wouldn’t give Sam any more reasons to dislike Zack. But she would not back down. While her husband’s blunt refusal to adopt hurt, Sam would come around. He might argue. He might sound as if he’d never change his mind—but that was the brilliant lawyer in him. He adored Gabby. He just refused to admit it because he didn’t want to lose the debate. He didn’t want to face that they might never conceive.