“And you told me he could do a lot more than flirt,” Mrs. Morgensen said with a smile. Vince could see that she still didn’t believe that he and Natalie weren’t lovers.
“I meant that he could cook.”
“Ah.” Mrs. Morgensen nodded. “Well then, I’d keep him. I hate cooking, don’t you? And a man who can cook is almost as good as one who knows how to make love. Not quite, you understand, Vincent. If I were you, I would get someone to give you some lessons. You can’t expect Natalie here to stay with you without some extra benefits. I’m sure she has men lined up wanting to kiss her.”
He leaned around Natalie just in time to see her open her mouth in surprise. Gently, he touched her chin with his thumb, closing her mouth.
“I’ll be sure and get some lessons, Mrs. Morgensen. Is there anything we can do for you?”
All at once Mrs. Morgensen’s eyes turned sad. “Well, if you could talk to the landlord. I think I may get evicted if I can’t come up with some more money soon.” Her voice seemed to shrink. Even her body looked smaller as she hunched into herself. “If you could just tell him that I’m a nice person, that I’m saving every penny I can and I really will pay him as soon as my next check comes.”
Suddenly Vincent’s good mood was gone. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Morgensen. No one is throwing you out on the street while I’m living here. I’ll talk to him.”
He knew it would take more than that. Landlords had rights, and one of them was the right to expect payment, but there was no way Vince was going to let this sweet lady get evicted.
Mrs. Morgensen nodded, but her usual cheery mood had been obliterated. Vincent knew she was still expecting to find herself out on the street. A sense of injustice railed at him, anger coiled inside him, and he fought it. He clenched his fists and battled the awful urge to hit someone.
Minutes later, he and Natalie said their goodbyes to Mrs. Morgensen and exited the building. Just before they got into the car, Natalie touched his arm.
He turned to her.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He shook his head. “For what?”
“For caring what happens to her.” Her voice broke a little at the end, and he couldn’t help himself. He hooked one hand around the nape of her neck, staring into those pretty, troubled eyes.
“I hope you nail whoever it is that took advantage of her. Take them to the cleaners, Natalie. I’ll be right there with you.”
But of course, that might not be true. As soon as Natalie was out of danger, he would no longer be needed. He had to find out if there were any leads at all. Just how long would he and Natalie be a pair?
Eight
True to his word, Vincent had actually gone and talked to the landlord when they returned to the building. Or what passed for a landlord. Natalie wasn’t sure if Mrs. Morgensen realized that Terrence Mason was only the building manager and that the building was actually owned by a corporation. At any rate, Vincent and Terrence engaged in a lot of low-pitched discussion and then Terrence shook Vincent’s hand before he left.
“That seemed to go well,” she said as they walked back to the apartment. “Want to tell me about it?”
“No.”
“Are they kicking her out?”
“No.” He gave her the smallest of smiles.
“Vincent, why aren’t they kicking her out? Terrence is an okay guy, but I’m sure he has a few unbendable rules. Did you offer to pay her rent or something like that?”
“Drop it, Natalie. This isn’t a story.”
She whirled on him. “I wouldn’t make it one. I’m just worried about her, and I’m also impressed.”
He stopped in his tracks. “At what?”
“You, taking an interest in a total stranger.”
“I don’t think Mrs. Morgensen has ever met a stranger. And she’s a woman alone. If what you’re telling me is true, then she’s been abused. Maybe not in the traditional sense, but I’m sure being cheated out of all that you have by someone you trusted is a type of abuse. That’s just wrong.”
His jaw was set, his eyes were cold. He looked like the hardest man in the world, like a rock that would never move, steel that could never bend. Yet she’d seen him smile at the children when they’d visited the preschool today. A little girl had asked him for a story and he had allowed the child to climb on his lap while he’d read her Harold and the Purple Crayon. She suspected that Vince had some soft spots, especially where females were concerned.
Natalie’s eyes started to mist. She blinked to clear them. Don’t think that way, she told herself. Don’t start getting any ideas. Besides, no matter what his feelings are about women, you aren’t going to talk him into letting you go out alone.
And she had to go alone. Today had been a wake-up call. She was failing her friends by not pursuing her story. Brad Herron or Neil Gerard might have the answers that would be a permanent fix for Mrs. Morgensen and Mr. Felsmith. Somehow, she had to find a way to shed Vincent temporarily.
She wondered why that made her feel so lonely.
No one had heard a thing about Jamison. Vincent had spoken to Daniel to bring him up to speed on Natalie’s situation.
“We can’t lose her, Vincent. She’s an eyewitness.”
“She’s more than that, Daniel.”
“Yes, I know. It’s just that sometimes it’s easier not to make things too personal. Frankly, I’m worried about her. I think Ryan is, too. He’s been looking tired lately. I think he feels partially responsible for Natalie’s dilemma, since Jason was his protégé. I know you assured him that you would keep Natalie safe, and I know you’ll do your best, but I hope you realize what you’re up against. Jamison’s crazy. He doesn’t like to be crossed, and she crossed him. So watch your back, and keep her safe, Vince.”
“Try to stop me, Daniel. And let me know anything you hear.”
“You’ll be the first person I call.”
Vincent clicked off the connection, tension filling his soul. He remembered Natalie with those kids today. In spite of her desire to write hard news stories, she had leapt in there in the midst of fifty three-, four- and five-year-olds, gotten down on her hands and knees and played board games, told stories and made animal noises with the best of them. She had been electric. She had sparkled.
At one point, she had looked up at him, her hair mussed, a huge smile on her face.
“Aren’t they great?” she had asked. “I want about five hundred of my own.”
His heart had stalled in his throat. The image of Natalie joyously, beautifully pregnant had slipped in and refused to let go. He longed for the idyllic picture she had painted.
But the picture he got was of a man threatening his wife and children, hitting them, throwing them against walls. Idyllic pictures were fantasies. Reality always changed things.
He and Natalie were oil and water. He was a bit old-school; she was ultramodern. They would clash, and things wouldn’t be picture-postcard pretty anymore. Wasn’t that the way of things? And when the good stuff failed, the bad stuff crept in. He’d seen the worst in his own family, but he’d seen other examples, as well. Anthony Bannister, one of his finest agents, was going through an ugly divorce that left their kids screaming in their sleep, and Anthony and Lisa had been the most perfect couple Vincent could ever have imagined.
So get Natalie out of your mind, he ordered himself. Go do something.
He stepped into the next room. She was working at her laptop at the kitchen table, wearing a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. Nothing fancy, nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary. He had seen thousands of women dressed the same way.
But he looked at her and all he could see was the way the jeans fit her legs, the way the scoop of the shirt made him imagine what lay underneath.
He nearly groaned. “I think I’ll take a shower,” he told her. Not his usual way. He always hit the shower in the morning, but tonight he wanted Natalie. With every cell in his body, he wanted to hold her body against his, flesh to
flesh, and that just couldn’t happen.
“A shower? Okay,” she said. “That’s a good idea.”
He frowned.
“That is, it’s good to get it out of the way now,” she explained. “I’ve got an early interview with a snake house worker at the zoo tomorrow. We might be pressed for time.”
“Okay, then, I’ll see you in a few minutes,” he said.
He stepped into the bathroom, turned the spray full force on Cold and stayed under there long enough to drive his heated thoughts of Natalie from his mind.
When he returned to the living room, she was gone. There was a note on the refrigerator door. “Be back soon. Don’t worry.”
“Like hell,” he said and headed for the door.
Guilt could be a crushing thing, Natalie thought as she drove toward The Ladder. No time to change, no time to think, but she still couldn’t get Vincent out of her mind.
He had been protecting her for days now. He took his job seriously. She knew that he genuinely worried about her, especially now that Jason was at large. And she had seen from Vincent’s interactions with Mrs. Morgensen and the kids at the preschool that he was just naturally protective with those who were unable to protect themselves.
When he found out that she was gone, he would be frantic with worry. And he would be angry. She didn’t know which concerned her more.
Either way, it couldn’t matter. She had to find Brad Herron or Neil Gerard and glean some information from them. Vincent couldn’t keep paying Mrs. Morgensen’s way and he couldn’t protect all of the elderly people in her building who had been swindled. He couldn’t help those who would be swindled in the future if someone didn’t do something. She had to find the key, dig out the facts. So for now, even though, yes, she was aware that she might be in some danger, she had to do what she could to help. There was no one else.
She hated the thought of getting near slimy Brad again, but at the same time she hoped he would be at The Ladder tonight. She wanted to get what she needed, get it over with and get back home. To Vincent.
The deeper implications of that last thought nearly made her stumble. “Don’t think, McCabe,” she ordered herself. “Just do what you have to do.”
She opened the door of the bar and stepped inside to the sound of pounding music. The dark wooden rafters were decorated with white lights, a concession to the season, but the season wasn’t what Natalie was interested in.
Almost immediately, she located Brad, who was hitting on a young blond woman swaying drunkenly on her stool.
“Nice choice, Brad,” Natalie whispered to herself. The woman clearly had left sound judgment behind several drinks ago. She would be easy to bed if she managed not to pass out.
But to Natalie’s surprise, Brad turned around at that moment and, seeing her near the door, said something to the blonde and left her there. He made his way through the sparse crowd toward Natalie.
“I thought you were never going to return. It’s been a long time,” he said with a smile that looked as if he practiced it in front of the mirror.
It hadn’t been all that long. “What can I say?” Natalie asked. “Sometimes life collides with our plans. I couldn’t get away.”
“But you’re here now. You came back just as I said you would.” He gave her a sly grin. Natalie wondered if it worked on most women.
“Why me?” she asked, nodding toward the blonde.
Brad shrugged. “You’re more interesting.”
Natalie frowned. “How so? You don’t even know me.”
“Well, you’re not drunk, for one thing,” he said, conveniently forgetting his own drunken actions the last time they met. “And I remember that you asked me about my work. She just wants to get laid. I can get laid anytime. Not that many women take an interest in my business. You intrigue me.”
Okay, so this might be a little dangerous. She didn’t want to seem too much like a reporter, but it was still a darn sight better than having to battle his sexual advances all night.
Natalie shrugged and smiled at him, hoping she looked sincere. “I’m always interested in what men do. Their world is so much different from a woman’s world. It’s the differences between the sexes that make life intriguing. Besides, I’ve never known a broker before. Your world is a bit of a mystery to me.” Especially the part about how a broker stole old people’s savings without explaining how it had happened.
“Well, I’ll have to tell you all the secrets of my mysterious world,” he said, dropping his voice. “But maybe someplace else. Too many of my fellow employees are here tonight. How about the coffee shop three blocks over?”
“You mean Mocha Matters?”
“That’s the one. How about it? We’ll take my Jag.”
It figured that he drove a Jaguar. But she wasn’t getting into any car with this guy. “I’ll meet you there.”
Brad gave her a practiced chuckle. “Scared of me?”
She hadn’t been, but his comment made her think twice. Should she be scared? “Just careful,” she told him. “And I’m kind of attached to my car.”
“Must be some car.”
It was a bit of a beater, to tell the truth, but it was the first item she had bought when she got out of college. It was a symbol of her independence. She and The Blue Thing, as she affectionately called it, went way back. They were a team. She trusted it, despite its age and ailing parts. She did not trust Brad Herron. “Ten minutes,” she promised.
He opened his mouth, probably to object, and she smiled to head off his words. Behind him, she could see Neil Gerard staring. He was playing darts with a small group of people. He gave her a wistful look, and this time her smile was more genuine. But for now Brad was her target. “Don’t be late,” she said, figuring that would seal the deal. She headed for the door, praying that Brad would follow her and this time give her some small hint of what she needed to know.
Ten minutes later, she entered Mocha Matters with Brad right behind her. “The usual spot,” he told the waitress.
Natalie felt a twinge of foreboding at that. Obviously Brad was a regular, but this was a coffee shop. How bad could things get?
Pretty bad, she thought, when the waitress showed them to a dark corner near the back. “So what do you like best about being a broker?” she asked, hoping to head off any groping Brad planned on doing.
He smiled and shook his head. “Natalie, Natalie, you know we didn’t really come here to talk about work, so why are you playing around? I know how the game goes. So do you.”
“Game?” she asked, steam rising inside her.
“Oh, come on, honey,” he said, sliding closer to her on the vinyl seat of the booth. “I can see you’re a class act. You didn’t want to be like the drunk blonde. You didn’t want to look cheap in front of the crowd at The Ladder, but here? We’re alone, or as good as alone.”
He was right. The booths in this place were made for private conversation, for working on a laptop, for reading. Brad had obviously found another use for the privacy of this little corner of the shop. He placed a hand on her thigh.
With great restraint, Natalie kept herself from planting a fist in his solar plexus. She pushed his hand away. “Alone is good,” she said. “It makes for pleasant conversation. I don’t believe in fooling around with a man until I get to know him, so tell me about yourself.”
“Hard to get, huh? I like that. At least for a short time. Makes the anticipation of what’s to come even sweeter. I tell you, you are totally hot, honey. You want to talk? All right, let’s talk before we do it.” And he proceeded to tell her his life story. “My old man didn’t think I could ever be anything,” he said, sneering, “but I showed him. I could buy every stick he owns and not even notice. I put him in a nice home last year. Real exclusive.” Brad chuckled. “He hates it. Good. Because I don’t care. I’ve got money and I get the babes. I can buy you things, whatever you want, and I know how to make a woman feel good, babe. You know enough about me yet?”
Natalie was f
eeling rather ill. “Not yet. How did you manage to do so well businesswise?”
“I get people to talk about themselves, you know? They like that. People will do anything if you find their weaknesses and get them started talking. Like you, I’d say you look smart. Damn smart, classy smart. Tell me, are you one of those really intelligent women? I’ll just bet you are.”
Uh-oh, this wasn’t the way she wanted the conversation to turn. No questions about herself. And to tell the truth, she was beginning to doubt her own intelligence. She was, after all, seated in a secluded corner with a total stranger who wanted to hustle her into bed.
“I have a degree,” she said noncommittally. “Nothing special.”
“Oh, yeah? What do you do?”
Think fast, she thought. “I’m an accountant. Going to school part-time to get my master’s.” Maybe that would put him off.
He gave her a slow smile and placed his hand even higher on her thigh, squeezing hard. “An accountant? Delicious. Accountants spend their days with numbers, so by nighttime they’re crazy and ready to be wild. This will be good.”
That was it. Natalie grasped his hand hard to keep him from groping her any further, then squeezed a button on her watch beneath the table. It gave off a high-pitched beep.
“Oh, man. I am so late,” she said, practically pushing Brad off the booth and climbing out. “If I’m not back home in twenty minutes, my roommate will call the cops.”
He frowned. “Roommate?”
“Fred,” she said. “My brother. Big guy with an itchy fist.”
Brad laughed. “You’re lying, but I like that. Makes things more fun when we finally get to it. All right, run away tonight. Another time. I’ll talk to you until you think you know me well enough.”
Then, as if he were done with her, he gave a whistle. The waitress slithered over, and Brad patted the seat beside him. Natalie didn’t know if he was trying to make a point or if he really was that shallow.
At any rate, it was clear that she wasn’t going to find out anything of value tonight. Other than the fact that Brad got his clients to do what he wanted by getting them to talk about themselves. But wasn’t that true of almost every salesman in the world? And wasn’t a broker a salesperson of sorts?
Keeping Her Safe Page 8