by Gina Conroy
“More like a tough year.”
“Oh. I understand.”
“Really? Your mom has cancer, and you blew your college savings to pay medical bills?” He pounded the mop into the bucket, impaling Samantha’s heart.
“I didn’t mean to imply—” She wet her lips. “I lost my husband in a car accident.”
He stopped sloshing the mop, his posture softening. “That’s gotta be tough on your kids.”
“I’m Samantha Steele.” She stuck out her hand. “Archaeology intern.”
“Johnny Newberg. Janitor.”
Samantha startled at the hand on her shoulder. “Everything okay, darlin’?” Cody peered at Johnny, who broke eye contact.
Samantha nodded.
“I bought the children cake. Hope you don’t mind.”
Alex barreled from the restroom and slipped his hand in Cody’s. “Cake?”
Callie emerged seconds later. Cody scooped Alex up on his broad shoulders as Nick rounded the corner, glowering.
Nick had to be wrong about Cody.
Chapter 4
Nick approached Cody outside the restrooms. He had Alex perched on his shoulders like a trophy. It took all Nick’s restraint not to coldcock the guy. Weaseling up to the kids to get to their mother. Not too original.
“I’d like a word, Sparks, alone.” Nick glanced at Samantha, who glared with arms crossed.
Sparky grinned as he slid Alex off, then puffed his chest.
“It’s okay, darlin’. I’ll catch up.” Cody put his hand on her back.
Nick balled his fists, fighting off images of Rocky Balboa in the meat house. How he wished he had Sparks in an abandoned warehouse so he could use his face as a punching bag.
As Samantha ushered her kids away, she glanced from Cody to Nick, where her gaze lingered. Warmth flowed through him, and it wasn’t driven by anger. Confusion pounded. Why this need to protect Samantha?
Sparks spread his arms. “What’s so important you interrupt my date?”
Despite the lack of evidence against Sparks, he couldn’t retreat. “I can see through you.”
“All’s fair in love and war.”
Love? He shook his head. With or without forger on his rap sheet, Sparks was a slimeball. There was no way Nick would let another woman be victimized. Not on his watch. Nick jabbed a finger in Sparky’s chest. “What’s so important at the mansion and lab you had to leave Samantha’s kids alone?”
He crossed his arms. “I had my reasons.”
“It’s only a matter of time before she realizes you’re a liar.”
“What happens when she finds out about you?”
Nick stretched out his arms. “I got nothing to hide.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Samantha released her fork as Nick charged her, Cody not far behind. The way they acted reminded her of junior high.
Nick pulled her from the table where the children devoured their chocolate cake. “We need to talk.”
“What’s wrong with you?” She yanked from his grip.
“Nothing. I’m watching out for you.”
“I don’t need watching.”
“Cody’s lying about something.”
“Sure you’re not looking through green-colored glasses?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Forget it. Listen. I overheard the janitor talking with a man in an expensive suit. I think he’s involved.”
“Shaggy? I don’t think he could see past the end of his schnoz.”
“You’re not using that idiom right.”
Nick’s temple throbbed. “That kid couldn’t lift a pack of gum, let alone forge a telescope.”
“The man looked like Mafia.”
Cody swaggered to the other side of Samantha, putting her in the middle of an ego sandwich. “I think that’s enough, Porter.”
Heat climbed her neck. “I’ll decide when it’s enough. I don’t need to be taken care of by either of you.”
Nick exited Capitol Cleaners, his face warm from the setting sun and tight with a scowl. With the amount they charged for a rush order on his uniform, he felt he’d been… well… taken to the cleaners. He glanced at Samantha’s business card and crumpled it. Stubborn woman. Did she expect him to send her the bill?
She had no business snooping up suspects like Junior the janitor. And to think Cody was innocent and Nick was… he couldn’t say the word. Jealous? Ridiculous.
Once he compared the prints on the telescope with the ones he lifted from Cody’s lunch cup and Junior’s broom handle using hot chocolate powder, tape, and ingenuity, he’d prove Cody was hiding something, and Nick’s favorite color wasn’t green.
A scream pierced the air. There. In front of Pizza Town by the parking meter. A woman down. Nick ran to her. Samantha!
She remained frozen, eyes begging for help.
“You okay?” He lifted her, searched for the kids. Safe in the car. “Samantha?”
“A man—stole my purse.” She pointed to the alley.
Something kick-started inside. Nick scanned the perimeter ready to bolt after the guy, but hesitated. “Sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” Her voice was edgy. “He has my purse. My money.”
“Go inside. Call the police.”
She grabbed his arm. “My cell’s in my purse.”
“Take mine.” He handed her his phone, then gave chase. Ten minutes later he returned with a yellow purse minus her wallet and his pride. He sat opposite her. “Sorry, no wallet, but your cell phone’s there.”
“He has my bank cards.”
“You’ll need to cancel them. I’ll wait for the police.”
Samantha’s stomach growled.
“Hungry?”
“I’m fine.” Emotion choked her voice.
Nick pulled a twenty from his wallet.
“I can’t let you.”
“You have to eat.”
“I owe you lunch and dry—“
“You don’t owe me anything.”
Samantha straightened. “I’ll bring you the full amount on Monday. How much?”
Why didn’t she just say thank you? His evening plans had included a microwave dinner and vegging out in front of the TV; instead he was playing Rock ‘Em, Sock ‘Em with Princess Impossible. He spotted the kids at the video machines. “You can starve, but the kids have to eat. I’m feeding them. So deal with it.”
The aroma of pizza weakened Samantha’s resolve but didn’t quiet her hunger. Maybe swallowing her pride would. First, the broken telescope, then the near-disaster at the dig, now her stolen purse. Each time rescued by a handsome stranger. What next? Fabio riding in on a stallion with her wallet?
Maybe the independence she craved was a fairy tale with no chance on her bookshelf. Maybe she needed a prince to rescue her. Or at least a knight. Was she destined to fall into the role of helpless damsel?
Nick approached, looking relaxed in his jeans and white T-shirt, a pizza balanced on one palm, a tray of drinks in the other. By the silly, crooked grin on his face, it could’ve been the Holy Grail. She took the pie and set it on the table, but before she grabbed the drinks, Alex charged.
Terror froze Nick’s face. Samantha gasped, watching the knight topple off his horse, doused in Sprite.
T.R.O.U.B.L.E.
That was what Samantha and her kids spelled. Trouble with a capital T. That rhymed with P, which stood for… peeved. Nick shook his head. Why was he chanting show tunes? Sitting through The Music Man was worse than being on the other end of an interrogation. Nick peeled off his wet clothes, squelching his emotions. Must be the Sprite. It made him go soft and fruity.
He slam-dunked his clothes in the washer, letting the lid fall with a bang. Good riddance, Samantha Steele. At least for the weekend. Come Monday he’d dodge her rapid-fire questions. Right now, he’d relax with mindless television.
The phone rang as he sank into his worn leather recliner. The machine answered.
“
Nick? It’s Nick, right?”
Samantha? Nick clicked on the television.
“I found this number in your phone. I figured you’d need it this weekend.…”
Hurry, woman. I can’t hear the TV above your babbling.
“… Or maybe you’re screening this call. I don’t blame you….”
Silence, then “Someone broke into my condo.”
Nick scrambled to the kitchen for the receiver.
“Never mind. The police are—“
“Is everyone okay?” This was no coincidence.
“We’re fine. I’m at my neighbor’s. She had a spare key to my car and condo.”
“Anyone go inside?”
“No, I locked up and went to my neighbor Susan’s. I shouldn’t have bothered you. I can return your phone tomorrow.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Samantha shook in the doorway of her ransacked home while the officer snapped pictures. Books in jumbled heaps on the floor. Couch cushions overturned. Kitchen drawers dumped out. Why was she robbed again?
Nick rounded the corner. “Everything looks secure. No open windows or evidence of forced entry. Maybe you forgot to lock your door.”
“I’m OCD about locking up.” Tears pooled. “How could this happen?”
“The purse snatcher may have gotten your address from your license and used your key.”
“I still have my Missouri license.”
Concern crossed Nick’s face. “You’ll need to call a locksmith.” The officer gave Nick a thumbs-up. He put on booties and stepped over debris. “Ready to walk through?”
Samantha followed. Dragging from room to room, she stopped every few minutes. Nothing appeared missing. In her bedroom, she examined each jewelry box compartment, then started again. Tears wet her face. Her wedding ring was gone.
“Anything else missing?” Nick asked.
She shook her head and followed him to the living room.
The officer zipped his equipment case. “I’m done. I’ll have information on the prints tomorrow.”
Nick shook his hand. “Thanks for letting me help, Mike.”
“Get yourself back to the precinct, okay?”
Nick showed him out, then returned to Samantha. “I’ll wait until the locksmith is finished.”
He touched her arm, his warmth comforting as her home lay in shambles.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
Chapter 5
Screaming jolted Samantha awake. It took a few seconds to remember she’d slept at her neighbor’s. Then another second to remember why. Heart pounding, she rushed to find her children watching television. Her breath released. Only Saturday morning cartoons.
The note Susan Holland left on the refrigerator gave Samantha free rein of the house and invited them to stay tonight, but Samantha needed to regain control of her life now. She inhaled the aroma of amaretto Vienna. Her favorite from Susan’s coffee shop, Coffee, Tea, and Sweets.
After two cups, Samantha hesitated before entering her condo, then pushed the debris away. She turned on the television and handed the kids a box of Trix. Not the best parenting move, but she needed to think without interruptions.
Samantha dialed the investigating officer. No news on her wallet or who had broken in. He assured her the crimes were random and the burglar had moved on. She sat at the table, smiling as she remembered the concern on Nick’s face last night when he walked her to Susan’s and his disappointment when she declined his help to clean this morning. Nick’s feelings for her were transparent, even if he wouldn’t admit them. Last night, she’d felt something as well, stronger than she had before. But she couldn’t deny Cody tickled her fancy.
Enough daydreaming. How could someone steal the telescope and switch it with a replica? Years ago, the study underwent renovations to replicate Washington’s last year of life. Many antiques were conserved. It would’ve been easy to replace the artifacts with forgeries if they went as far as the renovations. Where were they renovated?
Samantha pushed the mail from her laptop and paused. Maybe the burglar hadn’t seen it underneath the clutter? After accessing the Internet, she found the information she needed.
“Kids, get dressed. We’re going to see the dinosaurs.”
Good thing the Museum of American History was next door.
Nick sat at the kitchen bar, gulping his java straight-up, hoping to chase away the lingering up-all-night haze. He hadn’t been this foggy since his surveillance days, and all because he’d spent half the night worrying about Samantha and the other half calling in favors with Tony at Dispatch for criminal history on staff who had access to the study.
Unfortunately, no hits on Althea, and the history on Sparks returned Clorox white. His prints weren’t on the telescope, but that didn’t alleviate Nick’s suspicions.
Nick read his notes. Forged telescope. According to Carole who called late last night, the Smithsonian’s preliminary findings confirmed forgery. Suspects. Though circumstantial, Sparks topped his list. As an archaeologist who handled the artifacts, he wouldn’t draw attention if he removed an antique.
Nick wanted to write cozying up to Samantha as suspicious activity, but he’d keep this professional.
Althea. Caught with an artifact? His buddy at Forensics would test the Bible, but if it was legit, no need to alert Mount Vernon. Even if it was authentic, Althea might’ve been about to swipe it. Even with no Bible, her strange behavior warranted suspicion. Plus, Nick’s homemade fingerprint kit lifted her prints from the telescope and four others. Nick’s, Samantha’s, Alex’s, and one unidentified.
Nick almost eliminated the janitor, but forgery involved heavy hitters. Samantha mentioned mob ties. Nick hadn’t paid attention to her claim, but if Johnny had organized crime connections, he couldn’t exclude him. He’d run a criminal history and hope the janitor was old enough for a record.
Despite his lack of sleep, Nick ached to get moving. Since Samantha rejected his help to straighten her apartment, his day was wide open. Carole mentioned she sent the telescope to the Smithsonian for testing. Nick downed his java.
Perfect day for sightseeing.
Guzzling water from the fountain outside the bathroom at the Smithsonian, Nick got bumped by some guy gabbing on his cell. Cold water splashed his face.
“Hey, watch it.” Nick studied the guy adjusting his glasses. The klutz looked familiar. Something nagged at Nick. He waited until the guy rounded the corner, then tailed him.
The man climbed the stairs, then checked his watch halfway down a deserted corridor. Seconds later, footsteps clomped behind Nick. He retrieved his phone and faked a conversation.
When the clomping stopped, Nick studied the men.
A long-haired dude in boots towered above the skinny guy who would’ve been hidden by Bigfoot’s hulking frame, if he hadn’t been twitching like a snitch dropping off a high. Before they entered the room, Nick snapped a photo with his cell and caught the big guy’s profile.
Sparky? Nick crept toward the door. It was ajar. Voices grew louder from within.
“I don’t have time,” the skinny man whined.
“I appreciate you fitting this in,” Sparky said.
“I can’t possibly—“
“You will get it done before it’s too late. Now about the telescope.”
Footsteps faded, then minutes later approached the door. Nick hurried away. Would Carole send Sparky to follow up on the telescope, or was he involved in the forgery?
Samantha’s open-toed heels echoed on the Museum of Natural History floor, her floral skirt flitting as Tara Whitley, her neighbor and confidante, ran ahead with Alex and Callie. Last night Tara apologized for getting sick and today insisted on watching the children while Samantha investigated at the American History Museum next door. Samantha hurried to join them at the elephant rotunda, but the kids disappeared inside the dinosaur exhibit. Her lips pursed.
Tara touched Samantha’s shoulder. “Relax, it’s
a hands-on exhibit.”
“My kids have a heavier hand than most.”
“Last night you admitted if Alex hadn’t destroyed the telescope, you wouldn’t have discovered the forgery.”
“Or be indebted to Nick Porter.”
“The security guard?”
Samantha nodded. “He rescued me from the purse snatcher and came to my condo last night.”
“Sure he’s not stalking you?”
“That undercover operation at the White House has gone to your head. Nick’s not a threat. He used to be a detective.”
“Why’s he working security?”
Samantha wondered the same thing.
“Whether he left the department or was fired, life must’ve roughed him up.” Tara’s eyes lit. “What if he’s the forger?”
“Stop before I become paranoid like Audrey Hepburn in Charades.”
They laughed as they headed toward the colossal T. rex and found the children. Maybe now was a good time to see which artifacts had been renovated at the Museum of American History.
“Samantha?” Her belly fluttered at the masculine voice.
Samantha gazed into Nick’s bright eyes. “What are you doing here?” Was Tara’s stalker theory true?
“Following up on the telescope. Carole confirmed the forgery.”
“The Museum of American History next door authenticates the historical artifacts.”
Nick’s jaw clenched. “How would you know? You’re not checking—“
“Simply spending Saturday at the museum.” Samantha pointed to her children. “If I was checking on the telescope, I’d be at the museum next door.”
Nick’s self-assured grin straightened. “I have work to do.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“I’m doing the investigating, and you’re spending the day with your kids.”
“Why are you fighting me on this? Are you the forger?” No, she didn’t say that. Nick’s mouth gaped. Yes, she did.
“You’re kidding?”
She faux-punched his arm. “You said everyone’s a suspect.”
His scowl deepened. He wasn’t buying her act. “Every time something bad happens, you’re there.”