“I’m ready when you are,” she said, placing their coffee cups in the sink. “Oh, what about Twilight? What are we going to do with him while we’re gone?” she asked as the cat came into the kitchen and sat down at Tony’s feet, staring up at him balefully.
Tony stared back at the big, gray tomcat, unconsciously rubbing his chest where the cat’s claws had made contact with his skin the night before. Twilight meowed as if to protest the dastardly thoughts whirling around in Tony’s head as he considered the fate of the cat. “We should be able to find out what we need and make it back sometime late tonight. Won’t he be all right in the house until then?”
“I suppose so.” She looked at Twilight fondly, silently amused at the way the cat’s unblinking stare seemed to make Tony uncomfortable. “We’ll need to leave him some food and water.”
“Why don’t you take care of that? Help yourself to whatever bowls and feline-type food you can find.”
Libby nodded and smiled down at the cat as she quickly got him some water and a can of tuna. As she set the bowls down, she leaned over and petted him behind his ears. The large cat rolled over on his back, baring his furry belly to her gently scratching hand. “You’re a sweet kitty,” she murmured softly.
“If I roll over on my back, will you scratch my belly?” Tony asked with a wide smile.
Libby straightened up and eyed him levelly. “Has that kind of smooth flirting always come so easily to you?”
He winced. “Ouch. Are you always such a straight shooter?”
“Always. That’s one thing my father taught me.”
“What else did your father teach you?” he asked once they were in the car and on their way.
“He taught me how to bluff at poker, curse like a sailor and spit between my two front teeth, the latter of which I gave up upon reaching puberty.”
Tony laughed. “He sounds like a hell of a guy.”
“Oh, he is,” she replied, warmed by thoughts of her father. “He retired to Florida a year ago and I miss him dreadfully.”
Tony thought of his own father and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He envied her the loving relationship she shared with her father. He’d spent years trying to develop something with his own old man. The desire to please Anthony Pandolinni, Sr., was what had prompted Tony to join the police force, but even that move couldn’t bridge the distance between the two men.
He shoved these thoughts from his head, refusing to dwell on painful memories, old baggage. Instead he focused on the mystery at hand, surprised to feel the old familiar adrenaline kicking in at the challenge he sensed lay ahead. He hadn’t felt this way since he’d left the force. “Damn!” he suddenly exploded, hitting the steering wheel with the palm of his hand.
“What’s the matter?” Libby asked worriedly.
“I left the directions to Higgens’s lab lying on the kitchen table.”
“Should we turn around and go back for them?”
He thought for a moment. “No,” he finally answered. “I think I can remember everything I wrote down.”
She nodded and settled back in the seat.
Tony slowly began to relax as the monotony of highway driving overtook him and he realized Libby had fallen asleep. Small wonder…they had both been up late the night before and up this morning with the dawn.
He looked over at the sleeping woman, fighting an impulse to reach over and run a finger down the softness of her cheek, or trail his fingers through the pale blond hair that fell down to her shoulders. Her scent surrounded him, and like a bloodhound on the trail of a rabbit, it enticed him.
Once again he found his grip tightening on the steering wheel. Damn, what was the matter with him? He’d always prided himself on his ability to stay coolly detached from any emotional relationship with members of the opposite sex. What was it about Libby Weatherby that touched him in a way he’d never been touched before?
His thoughts were interrupted as Libby stirred in her sleep. His breath caught tightly in his chest as she turned toward him and her hand flopped over to rest softly on his upper thigh. He immediately felt a coil of heat ignite in the pit of his stomach. Damn, he scoffed inwardly. It was going to be a torturously long drive to their destination.
* * *
Hawk pulled his sports car to a stop by the curb in front of Tony Pandolinni’s split-level house. Their contact in the Motor Vehicles department had finally gotten back to them with his address from the tag numbers Hawk had obtained.
“You can kill the P.I., but we need Libby Weatherby alive,” he said to the man in the passenger seat. “We must have her alive to tell us what she’s done with the necklace.”
“And after she tells us?” the albino asked.
Hawk shrugged. “Then she’s expendable.” He ignored the albino’s smile of anticipation. “Go check out the house and take care of business.”
Hawk watched as the pale man slipped out of the car and walked down the sidewalk to the front door. In the three-piece suit, the man looked like nothing more than an irksome door-to-door salesman. Tony Pandolinni would innocently open the door before he looked into the pale man’s eyes. And when he looked into those cold, colorless depths, he would see his own death there.
Hawk frowned as the albino knocked on the door for a third time. Finally, after looking back toward Hawk, the albino picked the lock and entered the house.
The minutes crept by as Hawk waited impatiently for the albino’s return to the car. He hoped nothing went wrong. He had waited so long for the moment when the necklace would be finally in his possession. The scientist had been foolish to think he could escape. His death had been unfortunate, but necessary.
Hawk allowed a small smile to lift his heavy features as he thought of finally possessing the necklace. With the necklace, he would be the most powerful man on earth. What a rush.
He tensed as the front door reopened, then relaxed as the pale man came out and walked confidently to the car. Apparently everything was well under control. “Did you get it?” he demanded as the man got back into the car.
The albino shook his head negatively. “Nobody was home, but the coffeepot was still warm.”
“Damn!” Hawk pulled his antacids out of his breast pocket and popped two in his mouth. “Where in the hell could they have gone?”
The albino broke into a full, ugly grin and held up a piece of paper. “They were kind enough to leave us directions.”
CHAPTER 6
Libby awoke to find her head resting on Tony’s shoulder, her hand lying intimately on his thigh. She jerked up and away from him as if scorched by the heat of a fire.
“Ah, Sleeping Beauty awakens.” Tony smiled at her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, running fingers through her hair self-consciously, trying not to think of how familiarly she’d been sleeping against him. “I guess I haven’t been very good company.”
“That’s all right. You were obviously exhausted.”
She focused her attention out the window. “Where are we?” she asked curiously.
“Just coming into Sedalia,” Tony said, cracking his window a bit to allow some of the warm spring air to make its way into the car.
“Sedalia, Missouri. Isn’t this where the state fair is held every year?” Libby asked curiously, looking out the car window with interest.
“Yes, the fairgrounds are just ahead. You ever been to the fair?”
“Once.” Libby smiled softly at the memory. “It was a long time ago, but I can still remember the sounds, the smells. The laughter and the music from the calliope, the smell of grilling hot dogs and roasted peanuts. Ah, I love fairs.” She laughed suddenly.
“What?” He smiled at her.
“I just remembered. Vinnie bought me a chameleon. Somehow they had managed to tie little chains around them with a safety pin so the poor little lizards could be worn on a blouse.” Libby shook her head softly, memories flooding her. “I wore that chameleon every day for a week, each day with a different-colored
blouse. I was utterly fascinated the way the chameleon changed colors.” She looked at the deserted fairgrounds as they drove by. “It was a wonderful time,” she added with another soft laugh. “Vinnie took me on every ride. He even managed to win me a funny-looking stuffed crocodile.” She shook her head, remembering how much money her father had gone through in his efforts to win her the mangy-looking stuffed animal.
“It must have been difficult, raising a daughter single-handedly,” he observed.
“Vinnie was a wonderful father. If I was a burden to him, he never showed it, and I never felt it. He’s a very special man.”
“But it must have been difficult for you at times, not having a mother.”
Libby thought about it for a moment before she answered. “No, actually it wasn’t. I was so young when she died. I don’t remember her at all. I guess it’s hard to miss something you never had.”
“Sometimes mothers don’t die…they just fade into the shadows.”
Libby looked at him curiously, biting back the desire to ask him to elaborate on his strange statement. There was something about his tone of voice, the set of his shoulders that forbade her to question him. Apparently his light, flirtatious ways and his easy charm hid scars—deep ones that marked his soul. She repressed her need to reach out to him, to touch his arm, knowing he would hate her for a show of sympathy.
“You hungry?” he asked suddenly.
Libby shook her head. “No, but I could stretch my legs.”
“My breakfast this morning was far too early to really count.” He looked at his wristwatch and grinned. “And if we hurry, breakfast will be served for another ten minutes—I see the golden arches ahead. My stomach says it’s time for a couple of egg biscuits and some hash browns.” He pulled into the parking lot of the fast-food chain. “What about you?” he asked as they climbed out of the car.
“Just a cup of coffee,” she said.
“I thought you said something about being a junk-food junkie.”
She laughed. “I am, but I never indulge in my vices until after twelve noon.”
One of his dark eyebrows shot up. “Vices? Hmm, as soon as I fill my stomach, I’d like to discuss the other vices you have besides eating junk food.”
With a laugh, Libby gave him a small shove toward the order counter as she headed for the ladies’ room.
Once in the rest room, she looked at her reflection in the mirror above the sink, dismayed at the tousled condition of her hair, the slight mascara smudges beneath her eyes. She washed her face with a wet paper towel, then finger-combed her hair as best she could. Better, she thought as she looked once again at her reflection. She didn’t look half bad for a woman who was in the middle of a mystery that might possibly involve a breach of national security. “Oh, Vinnie, wait until you hear about this,” she said softly, laughing as she tried to imagine her father’s reaction.
By the time she left the rest room, Tony was nowhere to be seen. He must have gotten their order and gone back to the car. She left the brick building, raising her face to the warmth of the sun as she walked toward where Tony had parked. She frowned, startled as a car roared around the side of the building and squealed to a halt in front of her.
The passenger door burst open and before Libby had a chance to respond in any way, a pale, white-haired man jumped out and grabbed her arm. He roughly dragged her toward the open car.
The feel of his deathly cold hands on her arm broke the stunned inertia that had momentarily gripped her. She flailed out at the man, kicking and curving her fingers so her nails could be used as weapons. She didn’t know what he wanted, or why he’d grabbed her, but she did know that if he got her into that car, she would be in the worst possible danger. She grunted in grim satisfaction as she raked her nails down the side of his face.
“You bitch,” he grunted, his fetid breath smelling like death, his hands tightening their grip on her arm.
“Where is it?” he hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes suddenly lighting on the shimmering gold necklace almost hidden beneath her sweatshirt.
He growled in satisfaction and released his grip on her arm, instead grabbing the necklace in his large hand. He yanked viciously, but the gold was thick and the clasp sturdy. The necklace clung to her neck possessively.
Her struggles shifted from trying to get away from the man, to grasping at the necklace, to keep herself from being strangled. As he grappled, pulling and tugging at the necklace, her air supply was slowly being cut off. I’ll strangle to death before it comes off, she thought in panic, her vision beginning to blur. She choked, fighting back nausea as his unrelenting strength pulled the necklace tighter…tighter. She tried to kick out at him, but she was tiring, and his grip was maddeningly strong. She felt her eyes bulging, the cords of her neck taut as she pulled and gasped for blessed air. Tears squeezed from her eyes as her vision stopped blurring, but darkened ominously. Just as the darkness of unconsciousness threatened to claim her, she had an irrational burst of anger at Tony. He was apparently going to sit in his car and eat his damned breakfast, oblivious to the fact that she was dying.
* * *
Tony unwrapped his egg biscuit, his stomach rumbling with hunger as the scent of bacon and egg filled the interior of the car. As he took his first bite, a car squealed around the corner of the building, pulling up between his car and the front door of the place. Ah, another hungry morning traveler, he thought, finishing his biscuit in three big bites. He looked back toward the building, wondering what had happened to Libby. He was anxious to get back on the road, but he knew all about women and their secret rest room rituals. He’d never known a woman who could make a bathroom stop in under ten minutes.
He tilted his head to one side, strange sounds filtering into his open window. A struggle… Yes, that’s what it sounded like. He heard grunts, skin beating against skin…harsh noises that had no place in the beauty of the spring morning. His gaze shot back to the car parked between him and the building.
His nose twitched and the egg biscuit he’d just consumed turned to lead in the pit of his stomach. He jumped out of his car, simultaneously pulling his gun from the top of his boot. Rage ripped through him as he rounded the side of the car and saw Libby in a death grip. Her face was white and her eyes were opened wide, as if she saw her own death.
The man holding her looked up, startled at the sight of Tony with his gun drawn. “You son of a bitch,” Tony snarled, his anger a force that vibrated around him. In an instant the man released Libby and jumped back into the car, which sped away with a shrill squeal of tires.
Tony didn’t waste time chasing after the car or firing a shot after it. With his heart thudding painfully in his chest, he raced to where Libby lay pale and unmoving on the concrete of the parking lot. He shoved the gun back into the top of his boot as he crouched down next to her, his throat thick with emotion.
“Libby, are you all right?” He leaned down over her, moaning softly as he saw the red, angry welts around her slender, pale neck. He brushed a strand of her silky hair off her face, relief flooding through him as her eyelids fluttered rapidly, then opened.
“Remind me to buy you some nose spray,” she uttered, her voice hoarse as he helped her struggle to a sitting position on the pavement.
“Nose spray?” He looked at her worriedly. Had she hit her head on the pavement and now was suffering some sort of disorientation?
Libby nodded. “That famous nose of yours should have told you something like this was going to happen.” She smiled weakly, then winced and rubbed her neck. “This peccadillo you have for eating breakfast is definitely dangerous to my well-being.”
Tony smiled down at her in relief, touching the tip of her nose with the end of his finger. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said, gently helping her up and leading her to the car.
He eased her into the passenger seat of the car, his rage flaring again as he saw her unconsciously touch her neck and wince. His eyes narrowed as he thought of the man wh
o had hurt her. Tony would kill him if given the chance.
“Did you get a good look at the men in the car?” Tony asked, maneuvering the lid off the cup of coffee and handing it to her.
Libby took the coffee gratefully, pausing a moment to take a sip of the hot brew, finding the heat soothing on her aching throat. “Not the driver, but I got a real good look at the man who grabbed me. He was white.”
“You mean Caucasian,” he corrected automatically, accustomed to years of taking down descriptions of suspects.
“No, I mean he was white…really white,” Libby explained. “His skin was white, his hair was white and he had the eyes of a little mouse, all beady and pinkish.” She shivered suddenly, realizing how close she had come to being strangled to death. Her skin still retained the evil cold clamminess of the man’s hands and she shivered once again, never feeling more mortal than at this very moment.
“You mean he was an albino?” Tony asked, once again fighting a murderous rage as he felt the force of her shiver across the expanse of the front seat of the car.
“Yes…that’s what he was…an albino….” Libby reached up and touched the gold of the necklace around her neck. How could anything so beautiful feel so evil… so frigid?
Tony reached over and took her hand. “Are you all right?”
She took a deep, steadying breath and smiled at him, finding his hand grasping hers comforting in a very nice way. “I’m fine.” She smiled crookedly at him. “I’m a tough old bird.”
As he wheeled the car back onto the highway, he released her hand, making her feel oddly bereft. She stared out the window, focused on the scenery, trying to regain a modicum of peace. Yes, she was a tough old bird, but she was being pushed to her limit. She reached up and touched the necklace once again. This was no game, and there were no civil rules of play.
“Damn,” Tony muttered, checking his rearview mirror. “It looks like we’ve got company.”
Libby whirled around, staring at the black sports car that quickly approached them. It was the same car that the albino had tried to pull her into. She checked her seat belt, making sure it was secure, her mouth suddenly dry as her stomach twisted in knots.
One of the Good Guys Page 7