Deadly Odds
Page 23
Yes. Oh, boy. She wanted to. Absolutely. She tilted her head back, closed her eyes, soaked up the warm sun and the wind tickling her face.
Behind her, Josh swore again, this time from inside the barn and Kate laughed.
Ranch life.
As much as she craved it, the last days had been hard. When she’d first pulled up the drive, she’d hoped a few days to center herself would help.
Heal her.
Body and mind.
Three days later, her body was rested, but that broken heart? It wouldn’t give. It wanted what it wanted.
She met Ross’s gaze. “I didn’t mean for it to…I wasn’t supposed to…” she waited, tried to make sense of it in her mind, but how? She had nothing left to rationalize.
“You weren’t supposed to what?”
“It was an assignment. I wasn’t supposed to fall for you.”
“Ah, dammit, Kate.” He shook his head. “Don told me if I didn’t get my ass up here he’d make you wife number four.”
Don Sickler. A softie. She’d have to thank him later. “And here you are.”
He nodded. “And here I am. On a ranch.”
“In Ferragamos.”
They both laughed.
“I don’t know where we go from here, but I miss you. The second I got out of my car and spotted you—mud and all—the misery was gone. Just looking at you made me happy.”
“Hey, Cinderella,” Josh called. “We got work here!”
“Ignore him,” Kate said. “That’s my brother by the way.”
“I’d like to meet him.”
“Well,” she said, “if you want to stay a while, I bet I can arrange that.” She tugged on the front of his shirt. “Did you happen to bring a change of clothes? Maybe I’ll throw you on a horse. See how you do.”
“A horse.”
“Yep.”
He stepped closer, dipped his head close enough that his minty breath tickled her cheek. “No change of clothes. Came straight from the office. But point me to the nearest store and I’ll fix that.”
“It’s ten miles.”
“I just drove a hundred. What’s another ten?”
True that.
“And,” he grabbed her hand, tugged her toward his car. “I brought you something. A gift.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Just in case things went my way.”
“I love gifts from handsome men.”
They reached his car and he opened the back door, brought out a large box wrapped in the signature gold Fortuna wrapping paper and a giant red bow. He gave her that devastating smile and her breath caught.
As irrational as it was after the last week, down deep, where it counted, she wanted a future with this man.
He gestured to the box. “Open it.”
She set the box on the hood of the car, went to work tearing it open, her heart doing that little whump-whump that always meant Ross was near.
Tossing the paper aside, she stared at a boot box, shot him a look. “You did not do this.”
“I guess we’ll see.”
She flipped the lid off and—yep—there they sat. The cowboy boots from the promenade shop with the sexy spiked heel and exquisite design. The ones that cost thousands.
She shook her head. “You can’t. It’s too much.”
“I knew you were going to say that.” He grinned. “I had a hundred miles to prep.”
He grabbed one of the boots, set it on the hood of the car. “These boots? They’re a little bit of both of us. Half down-to-earth, half over-the-top Vegas. These boots, Kate, are us. An amazing, unusual combination that works in all the right ways.”
Ever the schmoozer.
She checked the size on the box. “And you got the size right.”
“Well, that was easy. The morning I snuck out, I checked your shoes.”
Still, he’d gotten it right. He could have guessed. And been wrong. The man had learned his lessons.
Right in the driveway, she whipped off her boots, leaned against the car and slid the new ones on. The heel might kill her, but she’d work it out.
“I love them,” she said. “Thank you. Most amazing gift I’ve ever received.” She smiled up at him. “Next to you, of course.”
“Okay. Now you’re in trouble.” He stepped forward, set his hands on either side of her against the car. “Will your father shoot me if I kiss you in front of his house?”
“Probably.”
“I’ll risk it.”
Excerpt from
Dog Collar Crime
by Adrienne Giordano
Out of work and down on her luck, Lucie Rizzo is forced to do the one thing she’s long avoided—move home to her nutty, mob-infested family. A move that brings her back into the tempting arms of Frankie Falcone, the ex that never fails to make her heart sit up and beg.
When Lucie parlays her temporary dog-walking gig into a career making fancy dog accessories, Frankie becomes her number one supporter. Life starts to look like a walk in the park…until three of her bling-wearing clients are dogjacked.
Despite help from the on-again, off-again Mr. Fix-It in her life, Lucie is thrown into an investigation that’s more Goodfellas than good doggie. One that could shatter her new life and her second chance at love.
Chapter One
On a lovely March day—if such a thing existed in Chicago—Lucia Rizzo led Miss Elizabeth, a Yorkie possessing the confidence of a runway model with a good boob job, across State Street’s lunchtime traffic and was nearly pancaked.
“Slow down!” she hollered at the errant driver.
A terrified Miss Elizabeth cowered on the sidewalk and Lucie scooped her up for a nuzzle. “Poor baby. I’m so sorry.”
The dog sniffed, then licked Lucie’s chin. “You’re a sweet girl.”
Another lick.
Maybe this dog walking thing wasn’t so bad. Heaven knew the investment bankers in Lucie’s old office never got their faces licked during the workday. And if they had, surely a sexual harassment suit would follow.
Speaking of investment banking… “Okay, girl, playtime is over. You need to poop so I can get home and look for a job.”
She glanced at her watch. No time for delays in an already packed schedule.
The sound of heavy breathing pelted Lucie’s ears and she glanced over her shoulder to see a man on her heels. Some people had no respect for personal space. She gave him the Lucie Rizzo version of the narrow-eyed back-off-bub look. When the man didn’t respond to her obvious warning, she darted ahead, but Miss Elizabeth flopped to the ground with an effort that sent her sequined barrette dancing in the sunlight. Fabulous.
Lucie stared at the dog. “Get moving, girl.”
The dog could have been a statue.
A man wearing a red warm-up jacket strode toward them, his eyes focused on Miss Elizabeth in a way that caused a prickle of unease to snake up Lucie’s spine. Another space invader?
She reached for the dog, but hands clamped on her shoulders from behind and shoved her sideways. Her heart jackhammered, and the shove carried her step by step by step until the side of a red Camry loomed in her vision. Uh-oh. Incoming. With the force of a line drive hitting a windshield, Lucie plowed headfirst into the parked car.
“Ow!”
Pain slammed into her as she landed on all fours, her right knee taking the blow from the pavement before she rolled to her back. Swirling white birds flapped above. She blinked, realizing they weren’t birds but white spots from the whack to her head.
Had she been mugged? Couldn’t be. She didn’t have a purse.
Panic forced the hour-old kraut dog to lurch up her throat. She shifted to her knees, propped her hands under her and waited for the evacuation of her lunch. She let out a slow breath and stared at her hands.
No vomit. Good.
No leash. Bad.
No dog. Very bad.
She turned her head to where Miss Elizabeth should have been. Nothing. Could the dog have been under her when she fell? She hadn’t fe
lt anything or heard a yelp. Please don’t let me have fallen on her. Lucie might be petite, but her hundred and ten pounds could still take out a three-pound dog. An image of the beloved Yorkie—lifeless—gripped her mind.
The sounds of traffic and car horns nearly blew Lucie’s aching head apart, but she peeked all around. No dog. At least she wouldn’t have to live with knowing she’d crushed Miss Elizabeth. A moment of relief sparked and disappeared.
The jerk that knocked her over had vanished and sent poor Miss Elizabeth into hiding. She couldn’t have gotten far. Her legs didn’t move that fast. Lucie dropped to the ground and checked under the cars. Nothing.
She ran to the corner, where a dark-haired man wearing a red jacket bolted through heavy traffic on State Street. She squinted hard and focused on a flash of glitter in the man’s arms. Miss Elizabeth’s sequined barrette.
“Help!” Lucie’s voice carried the high-pitched panic storming her body. “Stop him. He stole my dog.”
She stepped off the curb, but a middle-aged man in a business suit heaved her backward before a speeding cab tattooed her to the pavement. “Are you okay?”
“He stole my dog! That guy.” Dammit. The thief had turned the corner.
“What guy?” the man asked in a this-chick-is-nuts tone.
For a change, she didn’t care what anyone thought of her. All she cared about was losing Miss Elizabeth. “The one that’s gone.”
Fifteen minutes later, Lucie sat on a broken curb while the biting edge of anger and guilt morphed into emotional sludge.
Yes, at certain times in her life, she needed to maintain absolute emotional control.
This was not one of those times.
She drew a deep breath of Chicago’s eau de diesel fumes as a fresh line of cars turned off State Street. The rubberneckers, apparently fascinated by flashing lights on a police car, slowed to barely moving. Lucie dropped her head into her hands. Hiding would be the best way to limit eye contact with the gawkers.
The cop finished his conversation with dispatch and came around the back of the car.
“Okay, Ms….” He checked his notepad… “Rizzo. Lucia Rizzo.”
Lucie’s gaze drifted to the name on the uniform that had seen one too many washings. The broken-in look suited the man—this Officer Lindstrom—who kept his dusty blond hair buzzed into a crew cut that accentuated his thick neck and linebacker build. A big boy.
The man’s blue eyes drilled into her. She recognized the narrow-eyed fascination that came with wondering if she was Joe Rizzo’s daughter.
Her father, being the accused in a long string of criminal trials, left the distinction of ‘mob princess’ sitting on her like an overweight elephant. This cop was probably judging her as a lowlife. She should be used to it by now, the presumptions about her heritage and character made by people who knew nothing of her work ethic. All because of her last name. All because of her father. The jailbird. Regardless, she was a citizen who had been wronged and deserved respect.
“He’s my father,” she said.
“Joe Rizzo?”
“Yep.”
Lindstrom cocked his head. “That’s gotta be interesting.”
With that, Lucie snorted a half sob, half giggle. What a lovely sound. “You have no idea.”
“I’m sure. Anyway, we put out a BOLO. It’s still early so we might get a quick response.”
Lucie glanced up and squinted against the bright sun. “What’s a BOLO?”
“Be on the lookout. The BOLO is for a Yorkie wearing a rhinestone barrette.”
At least he didn’t laugh when he said it. Lucie closed her eyes, felt the swell of bubbling tears and let them fire down her cheeks. Crying. Just great.
“Ms. Rizzo?” Lindstrom said. “You still with me?”
With a vicious swipe, she swatted her cheeks and saw his face soften in a way that offered understanding. He must be a dog owner.
“I don’t know how it happened. We were walking along and—bam—I was on the ground and some goon was taking off with her.”
The panic rushed back, clawed at her for being so irresponsible that she’d lose a dog belonging to her most high-strung client. Well, she hadn’t actually lost the dog, but Lucie took the safety of her charges seriously, and this would certainly be her fault. What if the thieves hurt Miss Elizabeth? Lucie rubbed at a fresh batch of tears. Idiot.
Officer Lindstrom went back to his notes. “Ms. Rizzo, your dog’s name is Miss Elizabeth?”
“Call me Lucie. And she’s not my dog. I’m the walker. Tom Darcy is the owner.”
“Miss Elizabeth and…Mr. Darcy?”
Lucie, awed by the fact that he appreciated Pride and Prejudice, glanced up. “You’re a Jane Austen fan?”
He winced. “Not me. My wife. I’ve seen that damned movie six times.”
His wife. He’s married. Not that Lucie was looking, considering she had Frankie, but—wow—a guy who’d sit through Pride and Prejudice six times. “It’s still impressive.”
He shrugged, tapped his pen on his notepad. “Is Miss Elizabeth a show dog?”
“No. Why?”
“There’s a dog theft ring operating in the city. They steal show dogs for ransom.”
Oh, no. Poor Miss Elizabeth. “She looks like a show dog. She’s impeccably groomed.”
Lindstrom’s radio crackled and he spoke into the microphone on his shoulder. He finished the radio call, pulled a card from his pocket and wrote something on it. “I need to run, but here’s my card and your case number. If this is tied to the theft ring, the case will go to a detective. If not, it’ll come back to me. Either way, someone will follow up.”
Lucie took the card. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”
He jerked his head, started for his car, but turned back to her. “Is there someone you can call for a ride?”
A nice guy. Her father would never believe it of a cop. “That’s okay. I have my scooter at Mr. Lutz’s place.”
“A scooter?”
Lucie nodded. “I use a scooter to get around the city faster. My old boss lets me store it in his garage.”
“Nice former boss.”
“He’s trying to help. I was laid off six months ago. The dog walking helps pay the bills while I’m job hunting.”
Which was the reason she was sitting on this blasted curb wanting to skewer the bastard who stole Miss Elizabeth. Lucie mentally settled the queasies plaguing her belly. Maybe the whack on the head was messing with her stomach.
Lindstrom’s feet shifted in front of her. “You sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?”
As if this wasn’t embarrassing enough. “No. Thanks.”
“You should get that head checked out. At least go to your regular doctor.”
That was doable. “I will.”
Lucie watched him jump into the car, flip on the lights and drive off. Part of her wished she could join him, because she now had to inform Tom Darcy his beloved pet had been snatched.
She slid her phone from her pocket. What would she even say? Gee, Mr. Darcy, you still have a slew of Pride and Prejudice characters to choose from for the name of your next dog.
With that, she ran to the garbage can on the corner and lost the kraut dog.
Dog Collar Crime is available now at Amazon.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Deadly Odds. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please help others find it by:
• Writing a review
• Following me on Facebook and Twitter
• Signing up for my newsletter
Romantic suspense books available by Adrienne Giordano
The Private Protectors series
Risking Trust Relentless Pursuit
Man Law Opposing Forces
A Just Deception Negotiating Point (novella)
Harlequin Intrigue
The Prosecutor The Defender
The Marshal The Detective
The Rebel
Justifiable Cause series<
br />
The Chase (novella)
The Evasion (novella)
The Capture (novella)
The Lucie Rizzo Mystery Series
Dog Collar Crime
Dog Collar Knockoff
Dog Collar Limbo
Dog Collar Couture (Romantic Mystery)
Romantic suspense books available by Adrienne Giordano and Misty Evans
The Justice Series
Stealing Justice
Cheating Justice
Holiday Justice
Exposing Justice
Undercover Justice
Protecting Justice
Acknowledgments
The acknowledgments page! Always one of my favorite parts of writing a book. Without the help of generous people, I wouldn’t be able to do the job I love.
A giant, flashing, Vegas style thank you to George Joseph for answering my myriad of questions regarding casino operations. It’s a topic that has always fascinated me and your insight made the research all the more fun. Any mistakes are mine, but I hope I’ve gotten it right.
Thanks also to the usual suspects, Milton Grasle, John Leach and Scott Silverii who continually respond to panicked emails or texts because I’m stuck on a plot point, need to know how to knock a weapon out of someone’s hand or just need clarification on some aspect of law enforcement.