by Eve Langlais
A smirk curled Megan’s lips. “After she got over the initial mouth-gaping shock that I’d compared her husband to a troll, she told me that I’d better not ever change my mind and stalked off. After that, she never really paid me any mind.”
“Who posted your bail?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, little rabbit. Half a million dollars. Someone who obviously likes you must have posted it. Who do you know with that kind of dough?”
A shrug lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know. I barely have enough to buy groceries for the week. My family lives out on the West Coast and doesn’t know about my situation yet. I was never more surprised than when they told me that I was going free.”
A freedom that nagged him. Initially he’d wondered if whoever she claimed framed her for the murder was the person who posted the bail. By having her on the loose it wouldn’t prove hard to have their scapegoat suffer a fatal accident, resulting in an open-and-shut case.
Then someone had falsely accused her of fleeing and made sure she got her delectable ass thrown back into jail. Someone who obviously didn’t know about him yet. But would now.
Him versus an as-yet-faceless threat to his woman. Too bad for them, they’d picked the wrong rabbit. The chase was on.
CHAPTER 6
Tired and feeling kind of grubby, Megan couldn’t wait to get home, strip, and take a long, hot shower. When the police showed up in the middle of the night—which truly was a cruelty given even the birds weren’t awake yet—and dragged her away, they’d not given her time to bathe or dress properly. Why bother when they had her exchange her pajamas at the station for a lovely orange jumpsuit? Apparently, they’d expected her to stay awhile.
She’d thought herself a tad bit screwed, too, until Gavin arrived with some good news. It appeared as if her new lawyer might prove himself useful after all. He’d manage to spring her with the most simple of logic, the truth.
It seemed someone wanted Megan’s butt in jail. Question was, why? Wasn’t it enough she stood accused of murder? Did they have to compound the insult by taking away her freedom to find justice?
As she bounced from one foot to another—clad in some truly comfortable purple fleece-lined Crocs—she almost wished she’d ask to keep the orange suit rather than trade back into her oh-so-sexy puppy dog pajamas. Her jammies, made of cotton, had shrunk in the dryer so the top didn’t quite end at her waistband and the pants hugged her a touch more than she considered proper. Best part of all, though? No bra.
When she emerged from the station, she crossed her arms over her chest, very conscious of the fact that her tight, almost crop top clung to her breasts and outlined a certain part of her anatomy currently reacting to the chillier temperature.
A familiar sleek car purred at the curb. The passenger door popped open, and she saw Gavin leaning across the vehicle, arm still outstretched.
His keen gaze took her in, and a corner of his lip curled. “Cute outfit.”
Her cheeks burned. Not again. What was it about this guy that made her so self-conscious? “They didn’t give me a chance to change when they came for me. And I see someone didn’t think to bring me spare clothes.”
“You won’t have to wear them for long.”
At his words, her jaw might have dropped open. “Excuse me?”
He laughed. “I like the way your mind works, but in this case, it’s wrong. I meant, you won’t have them on for long because I’m taking you home.”
Surely she wasn’t disappointed? Nothing like feeding another hunger to distract herself. “Can we do a pit stop on the way? I’d rather we got some food first. I am freaking starving, and I know what’s in my fridge.” Nothing humanly edible.
Rich laughter filled the car, the intimate space wrapping the baritone sound around her warmer than any blanket. “You’re not exactly dressed for a fine dining establishment.”
“Who said anything about ‘fine’? Can’t we just hit a drive-thru and grab something ridiculously greasy and bad for me?”
“Bad.” He practically growled the word. “I like it when you say that.”
“You are such a dog.”
“Wolf.”
Yes, a wolf, a predator, one seeking to destroy her promise of remaining aloof. Getting involved with Gavin spelled danger. She needed him to defend her, which meant she had to keep a professional distance. A pity he seemed hell bent on doing the opposite.
“Why is it men only have one thing on their minds?”
“One? You wound me. I am a man capable of many thoughts at once. I have several right now as a matter of fact.”
“Are any of them not about sex?”
To her amusement, which she tried her best to hide, he pretended to think about it before lavishing her with a sensual grin that should come with a warning. “No, they’re all about you and something utterly decadent. When you’re around, my mind seems to have only one track.”
“Well, you need to get off that track to nowhere and get your mind back in the game. Because one, I really, really need some food, or we’re going to have an issue.” Make that a major meltdown that just might result in her nibbling on flesh because, dammit, now he had her thinking of sex, too. “And two, am I the only one noticing the fact that there’s a blue Toyota Corolla that’s been following us since we left the station?”
Gavin spared only a cursory glance to his rearview mirror. “Possibly a coincidence.”
“Really? Then humor me. Turn left. Now!” she shouted at him, and to her surprise, he complied, spinning the wheel and angling his car in a sharper-than-ninety-degree turn. His sports car handled it with ease, not so the Corolla. Having half-turned in her seat, Megan peeked out the back window and frowned as she saw the other car’s driver had slammed on its brakes. Too late. The vehicle shot past the intersection and almost got rear ended.
“Well, that was interesting,” she murmured, turning back around.
“Very. I wondered if someone would try something once they heard you got sprung,” he mused aloud. “I just didn’t expect it so soon. My bad. Good eyes by the way.”
“You mean you expected someone to follow us? And you didn’t say anything?”
“It was just a theory, one I didn’t want to worry you with.”
“Well now I’m worried.”
“Don’t be. I’ll make sure you’re kept safe.”
Exactly how her lawyer thought he could protect her from someone who might wish her ill intent she couldn’t figure out. But the way he promised it … Sigh. While unnecessary, it was totally sexy.
“Keep me safe from who? And why? You still haven’t answered me.”
“Given the blatant attempt to get you off the street by having your bail revoked, I hypothesized that if you were indeed framed—”
“I told you I was,” she grumbled.
“—then whoever is screwing with you might escalate things. The best way for them to have an open-and-shut case on your old boss’s murder is to have you unable to talk. Getting you tossed in jail proved troubling. I’ll admit I was glad to see you unharmed. I kind of worried something unfortunate would happen to you in jail.”
Hmm, like the drunken broad thrown in with her who turned out to not be so drunk once the cops left the holding block? A good thing Megan knew a thing or two about defending herself. When the cop returned, he looked from her sitting primly on the bench to the drunk snoring on the floor and simply raised a brow. Megan didn’t feel a need to let him know that, when the hussy came at her, she knocked her out cold. Thank you, Cousin Harry, for teaching me that left hook.
“Well, I’m fine. Even better, we seem to have lost our friend in the blue car, and look, there’s a Burger King up ahead.”
As she practically inhaled a Whopper made of decadent goodness and hummed a happy sound while munching fries, she noted Gavin executing a lot more turns and taking a lot more time than needed to get to her condo complex. His eyes constantly flitted between his mirrors, and he didn’t talk as much, intent o
n the happenings around them.
They made it to her apartment without mishap, where he parked a block down, his previous luck having not held. At least she wasn’t completely uncovered, though, as he donated his coat a moment after handing her from the car. She wrapped herself in it, glad of the cover, not just from the cooler twilight air but also from the stares of the curious.
How she must look with her hair sticking out from a messy ponytail, wearing her bright slippers, escorted by a clean-shaven, towering hunk in a suit. With a freaking tie.
The ridiculous thing made her want to grab it and yank him down so she could plant a kiss on those tempting lips.
Bad. Very bad. And to think she’d accused him of having the dirty mind. It seemed she wasn’t innocent when it came to letting her mind play in the gutter.
As before, he insisted on accompanying her right to her door. Once again, the elevator felt much too small for the two of them, especially when he planted himself before her and tilted her chin.
“Feeling okay? You seem rather subdued.”
“While I appreciate what you’ve done so far, I have to admit that a part of me is a little tired at whatever game is being played at my expense.” Tired and annoyed.
“We’ll find whoever is doing this. Because once we find them, we’ll find the true murderer.”
“And you’ll get the charges dismissed.”
“Yes, which will then mean you’re no longer my client.”
“And back his mind goes into the gutter,” she said with a laugh as she exited through the elevator doors when they slid open to her floor.
Striding up the hall, she smiled, a part of her flattered at his insistence on courting her. How long since a man had shown such ardent interest? Actually, she didn’t think any man had seemed so intent to convince her to bed him as Gavin. Most suitors tended to last only a short time, especially once they met her family. And Daddy wondered why she’d fled to the East Coast.
At her apartment door, she stopped, chagrined to realize her keys were inside, sitting in the purse the police wouldn’t let her bring.
“Shoot. I don’t have a way of getting in,” she grumbled. “I’ll have to find the superintendent.”
“Allow me. Wait here.”
Given her fatigue and outfit, she didn’t argue and enjoyed the rear view of Gavin as he strode back to the elevators.
Since she didn’t know how long he’d be, she let herself slump until she sat on the floor. Instead of focusing on her sexy lawyer—who came to her rescue—she tried to use her brain to figure out who the hell had it out for her.
She’d not lived in this town long enough to make any enemies. As a matter of fact, no one knew she’d moved here. Not even the friends she’d left behind as she made her fresh start. As for her family, they just called her cell phone when they wanted to talk. This place wasn’t a permanent thing for Megan. Just a temporary job she’d taken on her path to better things.
A job she now regretted.
Someone framed me for Pierre’s murder. Someone who wanted him dead. Who stood to benefit the most? According to most crime shows, the spouse was the first suspect. With the evidence against Megan, no one bothered to look at the widow. But Megan had to wonder. Much younger than her husband and volatile, Vivienne certainly had a temper that could lead to murder. But a crime of passion wouldn’t have involved the meticulous planning that led to Megan getting accused.
Which begged the question that nagged most. How did they plant the evidence? I was drugged. Had to be. How else to explain her lack of memories from the moment she entered her apartment to the next morning when the cops beat down her door? Drugged so they could plant a bloody knife and a blouse she’d left two days before at the dry cleaners stained with Pierre’s blood. Those elements combined spoke of forethought.
“Got it,” Gavin announced, breaking her train of thought as he exited the elevator, key in hand.
In short order, she entered her place, Gavin on her heels. It seemed he’d elected to stick around for a while. She ignored him, hoping he’d take a hint and leave. But when she emerged from the shower, she heard him talking on his phone in the living room.
Dressing first, and blow-drying her hair before wrapping it in a scrunchie atop her head, she exited her bedroom to find him completely at home, sprawled on her couch.
“Don’t you have to work?” she asked as she busied herself in the kitchen making a much-needed coffee.
“I am. Working your case as a matter of fact. So, no surprise, the wife has an alibi.”
“You checked?”
“Of course I did. Spouses are the usual suspects in these kinds of cases.”
Funny how he mirrored her earlier thoughts.
“Now mind you, she could have hired someone to do it, but given the red tape now involved with his estate, I doubt it. Most hired killings for inheritance try to make it look like a benign accident. So I’ve veered my inquiries into his business dealings and discovered something interesting.” Gavin stopped talking.
Megan took a sip of coffee and waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she prodded. “And?”
“And if you want to know what I found, then you need to sit over here.”
“I’m fine where I am.” Where she was being across the room from him, seated on a stool by the kitchen counter.
A getting-familiar deadly and sexy smile curved his lips. “But I’m not fine. If we’re going to be together—”
“To work.”
“—then you’re going to have to learn to trust me.”
“I do trust you. You’re my lawyer.”
He patted the cushion beside me. “Don’t be a scared rabbit. Come here.”
The taunt was an obvious ploy. That didn’t stop her from falling for it. “I’m not scared,” she stated as she plopped herself down on the couch beside him. Accepting dumb challenges ever was a vice of hers. Her mother said Megan got that trait from her father’s side.
“Of course, you’re not scared,” he murmured, draping his arm along the back of the couch and tickling fingers across her exposed neck.
Shifting would have given him too much ammo. She pretended to not notice his feathery touch. “I’m sitting. Now do you mind telling me what you found?”
“It seems Pierre had a certain fondness for a strip joint, one known to also partake in certain illegal gambling activities.”
“You think they might be the ones behind my framing?”
“It can’t hurt to find out. I’m vaguely acquainted with the manager. She works for a mutual acquaintance.”
“You’re friends with a criminal?”
“Hardly friends, but in my line of work, I tend to meet interesting people. I’ll go and talk to Lulu. See if she knows anything about Pierre. She might be able to shed some light on who he was dealing with and if he owed any large sums of money.”
“I’m going with you.”
“To a strip joint?” He couldn’t hide his incredulous tone.
“Sure. Why not? It’s not like I haven’t seen a woman’s naked body before. How bad could it be?”
CHAPTER 7
This was bad. Oh so bad.
In his defense, when Megan had told Gavin she wanted to go he’d tried to say no. Several times as a matter of fact. Then she leaned in close, placed a hand high up on his thigh, and whispered, practically against his lips, “I’m going, and you can’t stop me. So either we go together, or I go alone.”
Bested. By a woman. Which was how he found himself in a den of iniquity, with his future mate, regretting his decision. Especially when he noted the interested leers of the men patronizing the place.
His lip curled in menace, and he couldn’t help a low growl, which Megan, thankfully, didn’t hear. But it did force him to put a lock on his more primitive side.
This wasn’t the time or place to get jealous. He knew on a rational level that he needn’t fear competition from the men in this place, but his possessive side, which until now he
never suspected existed, really didn’t like the male attention directed her way.
With a boldness he would not have suspected her capable of, Megan strode to the bar, head held high, as if she were in charge.
Behind the granite-topped surface, a woman with a wild mane of red curls, a freckled nose, and a top a few sizes too small dried a glass with a towel.
“What can I get you?”
“We are looking to speak to the owner or manager please.”
“About?”
“It’s a private matter.”
Primly said. Gavin almost laughed. He positioned himself behind Megan, close enough to feel her shiver at his proximity. Nice to know his presence affected her. “Hey, Lulu. Short staffed today?”
“Bloody idiot who bartends this shift got himself thrown into jail for a DUI, which means I’m stuck until a replacement comes in. Who’s the broad?” asked Lulu with a head dip in Megan’s direction.
“My client. We’re here looking for information on a certain Pierre Jonquin. Does the name ring a bell?”
“Wait a second. Isn’t she the one accused of killing him? I heard it was an open-shut case. Overwhelming evidence and all.”
Megan stiffened. “I’m being framed.”
“Sure you are, doll.” Lulu didn’t roll her eyes, but her tone said it all.
“Certain inconsistencies have led me to believe there is more to this case than meets the eye, like the certain matter of money owing.”
“Not to me, he didn’t.”
“So you’re familiar with him?”
“Sure. Pierre was a regular. Every day at lunch, right when Mitzy’s set started.”
“He was cheating on his wife?”
Lulu fixed Megan with a hard stare. “Eyeballing some scantily clad dancers isn’t cheating.”
“But his wife—”
“Is a psycho who used to work here once upon a time. Betcha didn’t know that. Vivi, or Vivienne as she now likes to call herself, was a popular act until she got hitched to Pierre last year.”
“So they met here then? Perhaps I was hasty in dismissing her as a possible suspect. Given how they met, I can see how she might have let jealousy consume her if she discovered his noontime activities,” Gavin mused aloud.