Would I ever be that way again?
“Okay. We’re all set.” Rob entered the attached garage through the door he’d exited, the one that took him into the house and away from the heat and stink. He motioned to the car, a silver Toyota. Nondescript and ordinary. At least we wouldn’t stick out in a crowd like we did with the ‘Vette.
I climbed inside. Rob took the driver’s seat, hit the little remote, powering up the garage door opener. Seconds later we were on our way back toward the freeway.
“Where to now?” I asked.
“Somewhere quiet. You need to get some rest. We’ll hit the ground running tomorrow.”
“Quiet sounds good right now.”
Rob tossed an arm over the back of my seat, rubbed my shoulder. I was never more grateful for such a simple touch in my life.
“I’ve said this before, but I feel it’s still worth saying. Thank you. And I’m sorry. I know you’ve got a business to run. This has got to be putting you in a tough spot.”
“Don’t mention it. I’ll be okay. So will you. We’ll figure this thing out. We have to.”
Wasn’t that the truth.
* * * * *
I was in heaven.
Let me set the scene.
Ginormous bathtub.
Hot, almost scalding water.
Huge flat screen TV, upon which nearly life-size images of Paul Walker was playing for my entertainment. Wow, he was one fine-looking man close up.
Though I had to admit, a certain business owner turned rogue bodyguard could seriously give Paul a run for his money. Especially after delivering on this safe house. The penthouse apartment was luxurious. Insanely gorgeous. Private. Safe. Well furnished.
And did I mention safe?
A soft knock interrupted my sigh of contentment.
“Yes?” I called through the closed door.
“Just checking to make sure you’re okay. You’ve been in there a while.”
“I’m fine. Just enjoying my bath. And Paul.”
“Good. Listen, I’m hungry. I thought I’d get something to eat. What do you want?”
“Anything’s fine.”
“Okay. Be back in a few. I know I don’t have to tell you, but don’t answer the door if someone knocks. Or the phone.”
“Got it.”
He left.
I soaked until I was so pruny I wasn’t sure the wrinkles would ever smooth out. I toweled off then headed to the master bedroom wrapped in a makeshift towel toga. My clothes were looking pretty nasty so I checked the closet for something to wear.
Empty. Not a stitch of clothing to be found.
I checked the dressers. Also empty.
I searched the three other bedrooms in the apartment and discovered that their closets and dressers were empty too. I stumbled upon the washer and drier in the hallway though, turned on the water and tossed the clothes in sans detergent. They’d at least be freshened up a bit, even if there was no soap. Of course that meant I was stuck walking around in my lovely terrycloth toga.
I heard the door open and instantly regretted my decision.
Praying it was Rob, I tiptoed down the hall toward the main entrance. I peered around a corner.
Someone grabbed me from behind.
I screamed.
I jerked.
The towel fell away.
I looked up.
“You bastard!” I yelled.
Rob smiled. His gaze flicked down.
“You bastard,” I repeated, scooping up the towel. I turned my back to him and wrapped myself back up.
“I brought steak. Do you still think I’m a bastard?”
“Yes.” My stomach growled.
“That’s okay. You’re right. I am a bastard. And worse.” He took my hand, leading me into the kitchen. A big brown paper bag sat on the kitchen table. I started toward the cabinets, but he stopped me by saying, “Don’t bother. There’s no plates. He pulled several foam cartons out of the bag. “We’re stuck eating out of the cartons.”
“I can handle that.” After making sure my towel was pulled as taut as possible, I took a seat and dug in. Normally when I’m with a man, I eat very little. And what little I do consume, I eat slowly, daintily.
Not now. Not today. I was too hungry to worry about being dainty or ladylike.
Within minutes--it seemed--my foam carton was empty. There were no crumbs in it. Not one. And the steak bone was picked clean. I sat back in my chair and sighed.
“Better?” he asked.
“Much. Thank you.” My gaze tangled with his. A crazy little current of electricity charged between us, making my skin tingle and my pulse quicken.
He stood, walked around the table, stopping next to my chair. Certain parts of my body decided they liked him being there. And those same parts clamored for him to move even closer. I reminded those parts that this man, who was standing so close I could lick him like a lollipop, had scared the poop out of me only a short time ago. Plus he’d taken unfair advantage of my toga malfunction.
“You’re staring. Why?” He stooped down. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Oh, yes. I’m fine. Really. For now.” A little wave of anxiety buzzed through my system. “Of course, now that you’re asking, I’m starting to feel anxious again.”
He palmed my cheek.
My heart fluttered.
My lungs deflated.
I licked my lips.
Don’t kiss me. Please don’t.
His thumb brushed along my lower lip.
My tongue really, really wanted to sneak out and take a little taste. But I knew that would be a big, big mistake.
He leaned closer. Closer still. My eyelids dropped, shutting me in warm, tingly darkness.
Something made a loud noise, a buzzing sound.
Washing machine.
Clothes!
“Oh!” I jumped up, my hand flying to my chest. “My laundry’s done.” I heard, as I made my escape, a low, very masculine huff of disappointment. Me, I sighed with relief as I transferred my drippy clothes to the drier and set the timer. When I returned to the kitchen, Rob was nowhere to be found, the trash had been cleared, and the apartment was very quiet.
After checking the main living areas for any sign of Rob, I headed back to the bedrooms.
The distant sound of running water told me where he’d gone. Shower. No doubt, cold.
I went into the bedroom, flopped onto the bed. The minute I went horizontal, my eyelids became heavy. I let them shutter out the world. Quiet. Peace. Darkness.
If only it would last.
Eight
I was dreaming, and it was one hell of a dream. Rob was in bed with me, his hot, hard body lying overtop mine, his hips wedged between my splayed thighs. He was kissing my neck, nipping. Goosebumps were prickling my skin.
I was warm. So warm.
And he had brought me coffee.
Coffee?
I blinked open my eyes. Daylight was cutting between the blinds like long white blades. I glanced at the rumpled bed, wondering if my dream had been only a dream. That pillow over there had a curious dent in it. Shaped like a head. The top of the covers were thrown down, like someone had climbed out of bed on that side. The dent and the thrown covers shouldn’t be there. I’d slept alone.
I scuffled into the bathroom, took care of some essentials. I found a brand new toothbrush and some toothpaste in the vanity cabinet. When I returned to the bedroom, my semi-clean, folded clothes were sitting on the made bed.
I dressed and followed the smell of coffee to the kitchen.
“Good morning.” Rob beamed, holding out a white styrofoam cup for me.
“Thanks.” I accepted the coffee--I’d need a lot more than this, if I was going to function, but it was a good start. I sipped. Not bad. I normally had my coffee with vanilla creamer and a packet of artificial sweetener. But beggars couldn’t be choosers and I’m not the whiney type. However, my curiosity was getting the better of me in respect to one thing. “Did
you sleep with me last night?”
“Well, damn. Couldn’t have been that good if you don’t even remember.” He flashed a set of bright white teeth. “Okay, yes. I did.”
I arched an eyebrow at him. “Why?”
“For safety’s sake.” He reasoned, “What if someone recognized us and there’d been a raid? The other bedroom is all the way on the other end of the apartment. I didn’t want to risk being so far away.”
I arched an eyebrow at him. Again.
“Not buying it?”
“No.”
“Damn.” He didn’t look sorry. Or apologetic. “How about, the other bed didn’t have any bedding?”
“That one I might believe.”
“Cool. Then that’s why I slept with you. But I didn’t touch you.” He mumbled something else after that statement, something that sounded like “Mrrrgfh.”
“My neck was wet when I woke up,” I said.
“Shit. Sorry.”
I was amused and mortified, both. He’d been nibbling on my neck while I was sleeping? How dare he! Bastard! “I should kick your ass.”
“You should.” Again, he didn’t sound sorry. Not at all. He didn’t sound scared either. Granted, I wouldn’t be scared of me either. I was not the kick-your-ass type.
I squinted at him. “Clearly, if we’re going to be forced to stay together like this for any length of time, we are going to have to set some ground rules.”
“Let me guess, no neck nibbling.”
“Correct.”
“No spooning?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Damn, you’re--“
“Don’t say it,” I warned.
“I was going to say, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever known.”
Gah! “What are you doing?” I asked, flustered and irritated.
“What do you mean?”
“We broke up. Ages ago. I dumped you. Remember?”
“First, you didn’t ‘dump’ me at all. We broke up. It was a mutual decision. And I still believe it was the right decision at the time. We were toxic back then. Hellbent on destroying each other.”
“Whatever. You haven’t gone out of your way to reconnect since then.”
“I was giving you your space, since it seemed all I ever did was make your life a living hell.”
We both stared at each other, silent. Memories, both good and bad, played through my mind. Happy times--there were some. Quite a few, now that I thought about it. And some really awful times--were there really so many of those?
Had he made my life a living hell?
“You are going to have to sleep in another room,” I said, knowing it wasn’t just a good idea, but was an absolute necessity. “I’ll just have to trust that the building is secure enough, that I don’t need you two feet from my side.”
“Okay.” He looked wilted. I tried not to find his expression adorable.
“Now, shouldn’t we be doing something? Solving the case? So I don’t have to live like this indefinitely?”
“Yes.”
“So...?”
“Are you waiting for me to tell you what to do?”
“You’re the expert,” I pointed out.
“I run a private security company. My job is to protect people, which I have to say I’ve done a damn fine job of.”
“Fair enough. So you have no idea how we’re going to solve this case?”
“Not really.”
“Shit.” My mood took an abrupt nosedive. “Shitshitshit. I’m no detective either.”
He shrugged. “I warned you about being curious--“
“Shut up. Are you thinking I’m being framed because I got too close to the truth?” My cell phone rang before Rob could answer. I checked it. Liz. The red battery indicator was blinking. I answered. “Hi Liz. My battery’s low. Don’t have much time.”
“Got it. Are you okay?” she asked.
“For now. Has there been anything on the news? I’ve been too busy running for my life to check.”
“No. Not a thing. Any thoughts on how I can help?”
My phone’s low battery indicator beeped again. “Actually, yes. I need some stuff from home.”
“I’m on it. What do you need?”
I rattled off a list of essentials--clean underwear, makeup, laundry soap, clothes. And, of course, my battery charger. “Now, how do I get the stuff from you?”
“I’ll bring it to you.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Won’t the police be watching my house? If they see you carting a bunch of stuff out, they’ll follow you to see where you’re taking it.”
“Good point. Okay. I’ll bring you stuff from my house.”
That sounded safer to me. And, from previous experience, I knew Liz had a charger that would work with my phone. “Okay. But maybe you shouldn’t come here. Maybe you should meet me somewhere close but not too close, in case they follow you.”
“Whatever you want.”
“Let me talk to Rob. I’ll call you back.”
We ended the call. Then I asked Rob for his thoughts on Liz bringing me some basic essentials. He wasn’t particularly pleased about the idea but he could understand why I would prefer wearing clean clothes. After going back and forth for a half hour, it was agreed I would stay in the apartment while he met Liz somewhere safe. I called Liz back and a meeting time and place was set. In the next hour, I’d have enough clothes and supplies to carry me through a few days.
A little over an hour later, I was wearing clean underwear, a pair of jeans that were a little on the snug side but tolerable and a Downy-fresh t-shirt. Ah, the luxury of clothes that smelled like they’d just come out of the drier.
I was now ready to get back to solving the murder.
After bringing back my care package, Rob had closed himself in another bedroom to make some phone calls in private. Being nosy, I pressed my ear to the door to eavesdrop. Much of what I heard didn’t make a lot of sense. I concluded he was talking to one of his employees about his clients. But my patience eventually paid off. He started talking about me.
He was asking someone to see if they could get more information about the evidence tying me to the murder case. Then he arranged for a meeting to get some supplies. He also wanted someone to investigate the other cases the police had originally tried to pin on Liz. When he said thanks, I knew it was time to go pretend I’d been busy. I made it as far as the opposite side of the living room before he came out. “I’ve got to leave for a while. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid, like leave.”
“I promise I won’t do anything stupid, like leave,” I mocked, eyes rolling.
He squinted and left.
I indulged in a mini pity party, and then, bored out of my mind, called Liz. She answered right away. “How are the clothes? Did I forget something?”
“No, you didn’t forget anything.”
“Okay. You had me worried for a second.”
“I’m just bored. And scared. And I feel like I should be doing something to try to prove my innocence.” My cell phone was plugged in, which meant I couldn’t even pace the floor. I had to sit. In a chair. My leg bounced.
“Take my advice, there’s no proving your innocence if they’ve decided you’re guilty. On another note, what’s going on between you and Rob?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
“Well, pretty sure.” I shifted in my seat. Sitting still was killing me. So was this conversation.
“You don’t sound sure at all.”
“I can tell you this--nothing’s happened yet.”
“Sounds good. So, what are you doing talking to me right now? Shouldn’t you be making something happen with Rob instead?”
“He’s not here.” I stretched. “That’s probably a good thing. Because I’m not sure if I want something to happen between us.”
“Why not? He’s hot. He’s single--isn’t he?”
“I’m guessing he is. We haven’t gotten around
to that conversation yet.”
“I’m guessing he’ll be back soon. When he returns, I say you should get to that conversation. And then you should proceed with the other stuff. Look at him, risking his neck for you, taking you in, helping you when you need it the most. How many guys would do that for an ex-girlfriend?” I’d often told Liz she should go back to school to become a lawyer. She could argue her way out of just about anything...except jail, as we’d both recently learned.
“You’ve made your point,” I said.
“You still have feelings for him, don’t you?”
“I guess I do.”
“Guess?”
My face warmed. “Okay, I do.”
“Go for it! Oh, damn. Speaking of going. I need to go. I made an appointment for Twinkie and Einstein with the groomer.”
“Thanks. I’ll pay you back.”
“Don’t worry about it! It’s the least I can do, after all the help you gave me when I was in jail.”
She hung up. And I was alone again with nobody to talk to. No cable (there’d only been a DVD player hooked to the TV in the bathroom--and one movie in the player). The TV in the living room didn’t even have that. There were no books to read. No magazines. Nothing. I’d never been in jail, so I very little appreciation for how much it sucked. But being locked in a semi-furnished apartment with no food, practically no entertainment (outside of that one movie) and nobody to talk to had to be pretty damn close to being in jail.
I wandered around the apartment for a little while, snooping in drawers and closets. It was a really gorgeous condo, the decor bearing the unmistakable mark of a professional interior designer. While I was in Rob’s bedroom--the bed did have bedding, the little liar!--I heard the main door creak. Then the unmistakable thump of it closing.
Eager to hear if Rob had any good news, I hustled toward the front of the condo. I expected to find him in the living room.
Not there.
“You’re playing this game again?” I shouted, making sure he heard the irritation in my voice. “Rob, come on. We’re too old to play these kinds of games. Besides, I’m not wearing a towel toga this time.”
“That’s too bad.”
That wasn’t Rob. I spun around just in time to catch her jabbing a needle in my ass.
Pretty Little Killer Page 5