Belong To The Night
Page 35
The same James Medford she may very well have killed to keep herself in fast cars and high fashion.
She was not the seventeen year old who’d promised she’d never leave him when she gave him her virginity. She was not the twenty year old who’d sobbed when he’d announced his plans to join the Special Forces after he graduated from West Point. She wasn’t even the twenty-two-year-old who’d told him to fuck off one final time before walking out on him without another word.
As she drew closer he focused on those differences. She was thinner, for one, he noticed as she got closer. And older, her mouth bracketed by fine lines that came from stress and age. Not to mention the wardrobe. He bet her outfit topped out at over a grand, even more if you counted the purse. A far cry from the wardrobe of a girl from a working class neighborhood who shopped at discount stores and went to private school on scholarship.
She was nothing like the girl he’d known, and he was nothing like the dumb kid who’d entertained romantic illusions like true love and happily ever after.
He took of his glasses, feeling a smile curl his lips for the first time in several days as she stumbled a little.
She was off center. Just the way he liked it. And he was in perfect control. Because Caroline Medford meant nothing to him.
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“You know something.” Josh cocked his head to the side as the corner of his mouth tugged upward. “I just figured out what it is about you that doesn’t fit.”
“Pardon me?”
He pointed at her forehead. “The way you talk. It’s what throws off this whole picture.”
A wave of confused dizziness hit her. “I have no idea”
“There’s emotion in your voice, well, sort of, but your body never moves.” He nodded his head as if warming to the subject. “Makes me wonder if there’s any feeling inside there anywhere. I’m betting no.”
The shaking moving through her turned to fury. Ten more seconds of his garbage and he’d be feeling her hand smack across his face. “You don’t need to worry about my body.”
His eyebrows rose. “If you say so.”
“I need your detective skills.”
The lazy grin vanished as his back snapped straight again. “No way.”
“What kind of response is that for a grown man?”
“The only one you’re going to get.”
“Could you at least try to be civil?”
“You killed that possibility a long time ago, lady.”
Okay, she deserved that. He refused to understand her position, but she couldn’t exactly blame him for the anger. “I’m not asking for me. I’m asking for Ryan.”
“You pay a whole team of professionals to poke around in other people’s private lives for you. Get some of them to do your work. You don’t need me.”
Lot of good all that money did her so far. “I actually do.”
“Well, that’s a damn shame since I already have a job.”
Time for a reality check. “Word is that might not be true soon.”
“Visiting my office again, Ms. Armstrong?”
As she watched, he turned into a serious, uncompromising professional. He talked to her with a tone part soothing and part condescending. She sensed he would handle an interrogation the same way.
His disdain lapped against her. He didn’t say the exact words, but he didn’t have to. His actions spoke for him. He hated her.
Gone was the laid-back surfer dude laziness that hovered around him making the business suit seem all the more out of place. Blond, blue-eyed, with a scruff around his mouth and chin, he could play the lead role in any woman’s bad boy fantasies. But behind those rough good looks lurked a man serious and in charge, tense and ready for battle.
Well, he wasn’t the only one in the room fighting off a deep case of dislike. He needed to know she was not one of his frequent empty-headed bedmates. She could match his intellect and anger anytime, anywhere.
“Most of the information I need about you and your current predicament is in the newspaper,” she said.
“Most?”
She shrugged, letting him know he wasn’t the only one who could tweak a temper.
“More snooping, Ms. Armstrong?”
“I call it investigating.”
“Well, just so you know.” His back came off the wall, slow and in command. “Sneaking around in my personnel file isn’t the way to make me listen to you.”
“Then let’s try this.” She reached into her purse and grabbed her checkbook. “I want to hire you.”
“Don’t.”
She clicked the end of her pen. “Some money should get us started.”
His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist before she could start writing. “Trying to buy me off isn’t going to get you where you want to be.”
When she dropped her hand, he let go as if touching her one more second repulsed him.
“That’s not what I was doing.” It was, but she figured pointing that out would only make him less receptive to her plan to help Ryan.
“Sure felt like it.”
She skipped the crap and went right to her point. “Ryan didn’t do it.”
“Look, Ms. Armstrong. I get that this is a family issue.”
She refused to blubber or beg. She’d cried enough for ten lifetimes since the whole mess started. “Call me Deana.”
“We’re not friends or colleagues, so Ms. Armstrong is fine.” Josh took his pen out of his pocket and tapped it against his open palm. “And you may as well know I don’t really care what happens to Ryan from here on.”
She refused to believe Josh would be satisfied to let an innocent kid rot in prison. “You can’t really mean that.”
“I do. Trust me on this.”
“You think it’s okay to lock him away?”
“He had a trial.”
“Well, I don’t have the luxury of forgetting Ryan since I’m all he has at the moment.”
“I’m sorry about your brother and his wife.” Josh’s voice softened along with his bright aqua eyes.
She could not let her mind go there. Not now. She had to keep her focus directly on Ryan. It was either that or lose her control, and that was the one thing she could not afford to do in front of Josh. “Then help me.”
“I can’t.”
“You mean won’t.” Despite her attempts to stay calm her voice increased in volume as his decreased.
“We can use whichever word you prefer.”
“Why not?”
“Simple.”
“I have to tell you that I’ve found nothing simple in dealing with you so far.”
“Then try this: I’m out of the rescuing business.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s a fact.”
This was one brick wall she might not be able to work around. “I hardly believe you can turn it on and off like that.”
“I didn’t think so either.”
“And now?”
“I know I can.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Basically? Find another hero because I’m done playing the role.”
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“The Wolf, the Witch, and Her Lack of Wardrobe” copyright © 2009 Shelly Laurenston
“In the Dark” copyright © 2009 Cindy Roussos
“City of the Dead” copyright © 2009 Sherrill Quinn
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helly Laurenston, Belong To The Night