He’d fought long and hard for the life he had now. It appeared that if he didn’t want any trouble with the police he’d have to go along with their plan.
If nothing else, he could prove no one at the cafe had anything to do with the rapes.
Luc stood up and turned to Bradshaw.
“If that’s the case, be at the restaurant at ten a.m.,” he instructed. “And be prepared to work tomorrow night’s shift. My people aren’t dumb, Detective. There’s an excellent chance they’ll make you for a cop the minute you step in the door.”
“Then, I’ll just have to make sure they don’t, won’t I,” she said quietly. “Also, we’d appreciate you not telling anyone else the truth about me.”
His dark-as-night eyes flared fire bright. “My partners need to know what’s going on.”
Dylan spoke up. “No, sir, they don’t. We only told you because you’re the most visible figure there. That’s why we’re asking you to cooperate with us. If we’d wanted to keep you in the dark, we would not have contacted you at all. Detective Bradshaw could have just walked in the door and applied for the job.”
Luc exhaled a deep breath. “With a good chance of not getting hired.”
Dylan’s expression was one only another male would understand.
“I think she would have.”
Luc kept his gaze focused on Parker. He glanced briefly at Bradshaw.
“Then I will see you at ten.”
Luc tapped his fingers briefly on the tabletop, then strode out of the room. The door closed behind him.
“I don’t know about you, but I can see the man was clearly intimidated,” Dylan commented with a slight twist of the lips as he and Celeste later exited the room and headed for their desks.
Celeste didn’t reply. She sat down and checked phone messages that had been left there. She didn’t see anything that needed an immediate response and pushed them to one side.
“He seemed to buy that I didn’t know about your idea to work undercover,” Dylan went on, even as he sensed his partner wasn’t listening to him. He dropped into his chair and leaned back.
Celeste and Dylan enjoyed having a corner of the large room to themselves. They’d pushed their desks to face each other because they felt they communicated better that way.
She tossed her notebook on her desk. She had a hunch this wasn’t going to be an easy assignment.
She’d looked into eyes that were so deep a blue they appeared black. But she couldn’t recall ever looking into eyes as empty as his. Many times before, she’d looked into eyes that were devoid of soul, of conscience. While Luc Dante’s eyes weren’t soulless, they were empty of all emotion.
What could happen to a man to bring about such rigid self-control?
She hadn’t had much time to research Dante, so all she knew was that Luc Dante was thirty-five years old and single. He and two friends jointly owned the popular Dante’s Cafe. A majority of the employees were people most businesses would refuse to hire because of their past police records. The three owners gave these people a much-needed fresh start, and so far few had abused their trust.
Celeste knew Luc Dante had grown up in a series of foster homes and had been a resident of the state more than once. But since his juvenile record was sealed, she wasn’t able to find out more than what little she discovered during her hurried investigation.
None of her investigation warned her about the man himself. She’d had no idea his face looked like something etched on an ancient coin. Hair black as midnight curved over his collar. A slight olive cast to his skin spoke of a Mediterranean heritage. A fanciful part of her nature said a pirate must have stolen into his line-age. And those compelling eyes, framed by thick black lashes she couldn’t achieve no matter how many coats of mascara she applied. Tall, whipcord lean, he looked as dangerous as a hungry panther, civilly dressed in a black fisherman’s knit sweater, black jeans and black boots.
From the moment she stepped into the interrogation room she felt the sheer raw male presence of the man as if he were the one in charge.
She looked across her desk at Dylan.
“We both agreed this was the way to do it,” she said quietly.
Dylan nodded. He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a bright pink spongy ball. He tossed it from one hand to the other, then to Celeste who caught it neatly with one hand.
“Nancy thought boyfriend Gary was surprising her with a night of some hot sex and a little danger,” she said, throwing the ball back to Dylan.
“She wakes up, he’s whispering to her he wants to give her love as he blindfolds her.” The ball arced back to her.
“After he makes love to her, he fixes a bubble bath for her and even washes and dries her hair.” She returns the ball to him. “He even cleans up the bathroom after he’s finished.”
“He doesn’t take the blindfold off before he leaves, and when she pulls it off, she finds a red rose lying on the other pillow,” Dylan continues the story as he tosses the ball back to her.
“She’s in heaven. Gary’s turned into this romantic guy instead of the jerk he’s been lately.”
Dylan reaches up and captures the ball again. “Until an hour later when ole Gary comes in drunk as the proverbial skunk and definitely not the Romeo Nancy frolicked with earlier. Gary sobers up fast, and Nancy’s at the ER twenty minutes later.”
Celeste nodded, recalling the phone call that got her out of bed at three a.m. More than eight hours later she was ready for a nap that she knew she wasn’t going to get.
She rolled the ball between her palms as she glanced at the report on her desk. She wasn’t reading anything she hadn’t read before on this rapist.
“There was penetration, but no tearing of skin. No bruising along the inner thighs. In fact, the doctor didn’t find bruises anywhere. There was a lack of semen, so the rapist must have used a condom and taken it with him, since it wasn’t found anywhere in the apartment. The rape kit didn’t give us anything new. Crime scene investigators didn’t come up with any trace evidence in the rooms. Nothing was stolen from the apartment, even though Nancy’s purse was out in plain sight, and she had about eighty dollars in cash in her wallet.”
“She lost nothing but her trust,” Dylan murmured. “Damn, Leste, this guy is running circles around us.”
“Then, let’s hope we can stop him before we all get dizzy.” She closed her eyes momentarily, then opened them before she succumbed to the desperate need for sleep. A shadow crossed her and her desk rocked with faint movement. She looked to her right at the intruder.
The man sitting with one hip perched on the edge of her desk looked more like a criminal than a cop. He also didn’t look very happy.
“I heard you hauled Luc Dante in.” He shook his head in faint disgust. “Come on, Goldilocks, there is no way he’s Prince Charming.”
“We asked him to come in,” she replied. “So tell me, Stryker, why are you interested in our activities? Domestic Crimes isn’t your area of expertise.”
He nodded. “True. I see dead people,” he whispered dramatically.
“I hear they have medication for that now,” Celeste said without missing a beat.
Jared Stryker leaned down until his lips almost touched her ear. “Take it from me, Goldilocks, Luc Dante isn’t the man you’re looking for.” He straightened up and ambled off, his stride fluid.
Celeste hated herself for watching him walk away. But the view of the man’s rock-hard butt in faded jeans was way too good to waste, even if he could be a total jerk at times.
“Wipe the drool off your chin, Goldie,” Dylan said, using Stryker’s favorite nickname for her.
She knew she didn’t look the least bit embarrassed at getting caught ogling a man.
“I’ve heard more than one woman say that Jared Stryker gives the term strip search an entirely new meaning,” she told Dylan.
“That’s more than I ever wanted to know.” Dylan heaved a sigh. “Damn, Leste, thanks to that image I’m going
to have to disinfect my mind’s eye.”
“That makes us even for your description of Winnie Jacobs.” Celeste picked up her phone. “I guess I better see if I can pick up a different place to live and do a little work on changing myself into an ex-con looking for a job.”
“Do you really think you’ll learn something working undercover at the restaurant?” Dylan asked. “We could be wrong, you know. Maybe it is nothing more than a coincidence.”
“And if we don’t follow this and later learn it wasn’t just a coincidence, we won’t have to kick ourselves, Adams will do it for us. Right now, it’s the only thing we’ve got, Dylan,” Celeste replied. “If we don’t find something soon, another woman is going to get raped.” She leaned across her desk so no one could overhear her. “Last night, Nancy Gerard told me it was bad enough she’d been raped, but what upset her more was that she’d had an orgasm during the act. She saw it as the ultimate betrayal on her part. She can’t believe she enjoyed it and that she had no idea it wasn’t Gary Young.”
“She shouldn’t beat herself up over it. She honestly thought she was making love with her boyfriend,” Dylan said.
Celeste nodded. “It’s still very emotional, very traumatic. And something she isn’t going to get over easily.”
Dylan sighed. “In her shoes, I would hope I’d realize that I was still the victim.”
“I’m hoping she’ll realize that, too. A rape counselor had arrived to see her when I was leaving.” She pulled out her PDA. “I’ve got some work ahead of me to get some things in place by tomorrow before my job interview.”
He grinned. “I wouldn’t worry. My sources tell me you’re a shoo-in for the job.”
Luc always breathed easier once he stepped inside Dante’s Cafe.
It had nothing to do with the light and airy surroundings that belied the cold dark weather outside. Or the fact the restaurant was doing so well financially. Or even that one-third of it was all his.
It was because here he felt a sense of belonging. The people working here were like him. They were all misfits who hadn’t been able to fit their square pegs in the round holes. People who had gotten off to a bad start and could have ended up in prison for life, or dead, if they hadn’t been willing to do whatever it took to turn their lives around.
After the time he had spent yesterday at Sierra Vista’s police department he craved all this even more.
Already he wasn’t looking forward to a pretend interview that would result in a cop tending bar. He wondered how long it would take for someone here to catch on to Celeste Bradshaw’s real purpose.
Luc stepped into the alcove where patrons waited to be seated. Sage-green velvet cushioned benches lined two walls, where leafy green plants stood in elegant vases. Luc stopped to finger one leaf that didn’t look as green as the others. He’d have to ask Carl if the plant should be replaced. He liked everything to be perfect.
“Hey, boss man.” A sprightly brunette woman appeared under the curved archway leading into the main dining room. “You’re here early.”
“I’m interviewing a new bartender this morning,” he replied.
She opened the reservations book and wrote something down.
Luc studied the hostess with an objective eye. Gina wore an off-white tailored blouse with a knee-length black skirt. Evenings, the hostess would wear a calf-length skirt, and a dark red silk corsage would add color. Gina’s heavy mass of black curly hair was pulled up into a knot at the back of her head. A black velvet ribbon with a small cameo graced her slender throat.
He doubted anyone would guess that four years ago Gina had been an integral part of a medical insurance fraud. She’d been an expert slip-and-fall artist who pretended to have accidents in stores or in front of unsuspecting motorists. She’d made a nice living out of it—until she made the mistake of trying her act on a judge’s wife. Due to the large amount of money she’d milked from insurance companies, she went to jail for eighteen months. When she was released, she knew she didn’t want to chance losing her three-year-old daughter. It hadn’t been easy for her to find a job—until she applied at Dante’s Cafe. She started out as a waitress, and when a former hostess left, she was offered the promotion.
Luc cocked his head at the sound of pots banging, wincing at the cacophony. He was relieved the restaurant wasn’t open yet.
“Jimmy’s trying out a new recipe,” Gina explained. She rolled her eyes. “It’s not going well.”
He chuckled at the sound of curses rolling out of the kitchen. “So I hear. Paulie here, too?”
“In the office, where else. Are you sure he doesn’t sleep there?”
“There have been times.” Luc turned around when the front door opened and a woman stepped inside the foyer. He opened his mouth to explain Dante’s was closed, then realized there was no need.
She offered him a brief impersonal smile as she passed him to approach Gina.
“May I help you?” Gina asked.
“Yes, I’m Celeste Bradley,” she said in a low voice. “I have an appointment with Mr. Dante.”
Luc spoke up. “Ms. Bradley, I’m Dante.”
She turned around and offered a shy smile. Then she stepped forward and offered her hand tentatively, as if she wasn’t sure he’d accept it.
She was good. Very good. If he hadn’t known who she really was he would have assumed he was meeting Celeste Bradley and not Celeste Bradshaw. The direct gaze she’d used on him yesterday had been replaced by an uncertain one. Even the sure way she had of carrying herself had disappeared. She now seemed hesitant.
Even more obvious were the visible changes. He was surprised by the care she had taken to change her looks. Her blue dress was a simple inexpensive style but with a lower neckline than he imagined she normally wore. Her shoulder-length hair was now clipped shorter in a shaggier style. It looked as if she’d lightened her own dark blond hair color to a much paler blond shade. Bolder makeup finished the look.
The lady deserved a damn Academy Award.
“Let’s go back to my office,” Luc said, directing her down a small hallway.
Calling it an office was an overstatement since it was about the size of a broom closet. It barely held his desk, a tiny filing cabinet and two chairs.
“Would you like some coffee?” he asked politely.
“No, thank you.” She looked around with discreet interest.
Luc stared at Celeste, feeling as if he were looking at an entirely different woman than the one he had met the day before. As he walked past her, he noticed even her perfume had changed. This one hadn’t cost a fraction of what the one he’d detected the day before had cost. But it was still something that suited her.
“You said you’re a bartender,” he prompted, once he’d seated himself behind his desk.
“Yes, sir. I worked as a bartender for about three years when I was in grad school.” This time she did meet his gaze squarely. “I have a letter of reference from my boss.” She pulled a paper out of her purse and handed it to him.
Luc skimmed the letter, wondering if her partner had written the letter.
“But you haven’t worked the past—what?—eighteen months?”
She nodded. “I, uh, I was in jail.”
Aha, there was that almost defiant look he’d seen so many times before, even in his own bathroom mirror. She sat there daring him to condemn her for her past.
He’d say Detective Celeste Bradshaw was diving way too deep into her part.
“There’s no recording equipment in here,” he informed her.
“All I want is a chance,” Celeste said, as if he hadn’t spoken. “I’m a hard worker and I promise I won’t betray your trust.”
He sighed. Obviously, she wasn’t going to fall out of character. “What were you in for?”
She hesitated as if she didn’t want to admit the truth. “I wrote a few bad checks.”
“Of course you did,” he murmured. “All right, I’ll put you on a thirty-day trial basis. It’s not j
ust me you’ll have to convince but everyone else working here. Everyone gets along or the one causing trouble is the one leaving. We don’t tolerate drinking on the job. Also there will be no drugs and no horseplay. Your meals are provided free of charge during working hours. We all work together here. As for the bar, keeping it stocked is your job, but my partner, Paulie, does the ordering. Feel free to cut off a customer if he or she has had too much to drink. If they cause trouble, alert me or ask the hostess to come get me. I will take care of any problems that come up. There are two waitresses in the bar on Friday and Saturday nights, one on duty the other nights.” He pulled open a file drawer, pulled out a packet and tossed it across the desk toward her. Another packet followed that one. “Paperwork to fill out,” he informed her. “There are three ties in here. You provide white shirts and black pants. Nothing tight or low cut.”
“Don’t your partners have to approve your decision?” she asked.
“The three of us have an agreement. Jimmy doesn’t look at what Paulie and I do, and we stay out of the kitchen. Especially if he’s holding one of those big sharp cleavers,” he said. “The kitchen is his domain. The paperwork is Paulie’s domain.”
“What about your domain?” Celeste asked. “What are you in charge of?”
“What is my domain?” His smile displayed that pantherlike danger. “Why, Ms. Bradley, my domain is just as important as Jimmy’s. I’m the one who makes our customers feel more like guests. Since I gather you still want the job, make sure you’re back here at four.”
“I want the job,” Celeste said firmly.
Luc rose and walked around the desk as Celeste likewise stood up.
“You can meet the others when you come in. Is that acceptable?”
“I’m here to do a job, Mr. Dante,” she murmured, breaking character for the first time. “This could very well turn out to be to your benefit.”
“And when this is over, I’ll be there to serve you a lovely dish of sautéed crow.” He spoke equally softly, although he knew there was no one in the hallway to overhear their conversation. His senses always had been finely honed as to what went on around him. He refused to be caught unaware.
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