Roses After Midnight

by Linda Randall Wisdom

  “The lady’s paying, Tank,” he called out as he left the diner.

  “Damn him!” She pulled bills out of her jacket pocket, dropped them on the table and took off after him. “Luc!” She pushed the door open and ran outside.

  He’d just reached his vehicle when she caught up with him.

  “What is your problem? Are you even going to tell me what I supposedly did in there? Did I hit some kind of nerve?” she demanded.

  He hit the remote. Headlights flashed as the door locks disengaged.

  “Just leave it, Detective,” Luc ordered, not bothering to turn around.

  “Leave what?” She stalked up to him. “Come on, Dante, give me a clue!” she yelled. “Do us both a favor and tell me what your problem is!”

  Luc spun around and grasped Celeste by the shoulders. Before she could blink she was backed up against his car.

  “Guess what, Detective?” he growled, deliberately pressing his hips against her. “You are my problem. You have been my problem since that first meeting, with those smiles and big eyes and…” His eyes found her lips. He muttered a curse just as he dropped his head and captured her mouth with his.

  OhmiGod!

  Celeste felt as if her breath had been slammed out of her body. While the night air was chilly and a fine mist fell from the sky, she didn’t feel the least bit cold with the heat of Luc’s body against her.

  She couldn’t think. She could only feel. And what a feeling it was!

  Was this what she’d been unconsciously waiting for since that first meeting? Had she known that by coming here to talk to him there was a chance this could happen?

  She didn’t have to order her arms to curl up around his neck. They moved upward of their own accord just as she arched against his body.

  The man might act cool and aloof, but there was a heat inside him that seared her. It was as if he called out to something deep inside her.

  There was a connection racing between them she couldn’t understand, but she was powerless to deny it.

  “Now you know my problem,” Luc rasped as his mouth moved up across her cheekbones, then returned to her mouth with a hunger that seemed savage. His fingers dug into her scalp, holding her head still. Not that she could have moved if she wanted to. And she most definitely didn’t want to. “You have been like an intense heat that scorches my skin. It refuses to go away. You tell me how that can happen in the space of days?” he demanded, pulling back on her head until she could look up at him. His face twisted as if he were in pain. “Damn, why did you have to barge into my life?”

  Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the starkness of his gaze. The man was fighting his emotions every step of the way and not liking where they were taking him. Her normally glib tongue escaped her. What could she say when she had no idea what was happening to her either?

  “I don’t know,” she finally had to confess. “All I do know is that if you don’t kiss me again I will die.”

  Luc groaned and caught her mouth with his. His tongue plunged in, mingling their flavors. Both were so involved that they wouldn’t have cared less if they’d been in the middle of a football stadium during the Super Bowl. She gasped and arched her back as his hand curved over her breast. She suddenly wanted nothing between them as she nibbled on the corners of his mouth. He retaliated with a love nip of his own. At that moment, nothing could have pulled them apart.

  Until a popular cartoon theme song erupted between them.

  It took Celeste a moment to register that it was her personal cell phone.

  “I have to answer it.” She reluctantly pulled back. She flipped open her phone. “Hello?”

  The voice speaking from the other end broke the mood faster than an icy downpour.

  “Mom?” she croaked.

  Luc jumped back as if he had been burned.

  Celeste turned around. She curved her arm around her waist as she listened to her mother.

  “Mom, can I call you back later? No, I’m not on duty tonight. I’m just…busy. Who?” She tipped her head back, silently beseeching the heavens to save her. There was no help there. She grimaced. “Mom, I can’t talk right now, okay? I will call you later.” She lowered her voice. “No, I do not want his number. He was a pompous jerk in school and I’m sure he hasn’t changed even if his company did go public.” She disconnected the call.

  “Sorry about that. I should have checked my caller ID first. Then I would have known it wasn’t the station.” When she turned around she found Luc leaning against his car. His shoulders shook. She peered closer. The parking lot lights showed up his features in stark detail. “Are you laughing?”

  “Hard to believe, isn’t it?” he said dryly. “Obviously, you weren’t about to tell your mother what you were doing.”

  “Not for the reason you think. She’d be so happy I was doing more than frisking a suspect she’d demand I bring you for dinner.” She rubbed her hands over her face. As she did so, she realized she could smell him on her palms. She noticed Tank standing at one of the front windows. Well, what could she expect? They were probably as good an entertainment as he could find on cable. She couldn’t believe she wasn’t embarrassed by what was probably a pretty good R-rated scene.

  “I have to go,” she murmured, searching her pockets for her keys. All the time, she was intensely aware of Luc’s brooding gaze on her.

  “If you want to send your partner in Tuesday night, I’ll understand.”

  Celeste swung around. “I don’t run away from anything.”

  “So now what? You’ll investigate some guy and make his life miserable because you’ve decided he could be Prince Charming?” Luc asked.

  “There are some aspects to the case we can’t let anyone know.” She fell back into her cop persona. Right now, when she still felt so unsettled, she needed that defense. She wondered where it had been ten minutes ago.

  This time his smile was chilling. “Of course.” He straightened up and turned to his car. “Good night, Detective.”

  Just like that.

  In the space of seconds she saw the return of the man she had seen for the past few nights. There was no sign of the heat that had radiated off him just moments before.

  Celeste called on reserves from deep within her. She refused to allow Luc to see how his emotional withdrawal affected her.

  “Good night, Mr. Dante.” Her voice was as cool as his had been. “I hope you will remember that anything we discussed tonight cannot be disclosed to anyone.”

  “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of doing anything to hinder your investigation.”

  Celeste ignored his mocking voice and headed for her car. She started it up immediately. She ignored the cold air that blew on her when she first switched on the heater. At the moment, nothing could be any colder than the chill she felt inside.

  He’d always considered himself a damned man. Tonight proved it.

  Luc had no idea why he’d given in to his baser side and kissed Celeste. Maybe because it was something he’d imagined doing for several days. Or maybe because he’d followed through on what he’d dreamed about since he first laid eyes on her.

  He drove blindly. At the moment, he didn’t care where he went. When he reached the outskirts of town, the mist changed to heavy rain. That didn’t matter either. If he drove fast enough, he just might be able to escape the images and sensations that haunted him. And if he slid off the road, it was meant to be.

  The dazed look in her eyes took him back to a stormy night that equaled the storm inside him.

  He thought back to when he was fourteen and he’d hitchhiked to San Francisco, and from there farther down the coast. He recalled standing on the beach for hours, where he watched a storm roll in from the ocean. He remembered the water was green, dulled by the storm-gray clouds overhead. As he stood there, he felt the power of the storm as it advanced onto the land, and imagined he heard the crackle of electricity in the air as lightning lit up the sky.

  To this day, he couldn’t
forget all the hours he spent on the beach or how watching, and feeling, all that turbulent energy affected him.

  The cops picked him up two days later and returned him to the Watsons. Two days later, he was in the Valley Boy’s Facility, just another fancy name for juvenile hall.

  Tonight, Celeste’s eyes had reminded Luc of the stormy sea. What raced through him at her touch was the same sense of electric energy he’d felt then. And just like that day, it scared the hell out of him.

  He didn’t stop driving until he saw flickering lights in the distance. He later pulled off the road and parked near the one-story building. Even with the pounding rain and all his windows closed, he could hear the vibrations of the music and Jim Croce’s raspy voice booming from the rough-hewn log building ringed with motorcycles.

  Luc climbed out of his car and walked inside. He didn’t bother setting the car alarm. He had no fear of his powerful car being stolen. There was no chance of anyone wanting his sleek sports car when there was a wealth of Harley-Davidsons close by.

  When he stepped inside the building, he was assaulted with sounds, sights and smells. Jim Croce had been replaced by the heavy throbbing beat of Steppenwolf. Leather and denim was the accepted dress code among the too many overheated bodies, and beer the drink of the day. Smoking may have been banned from bars, but no one heeded that law in The Renegade. It could have been an outlaw saloon from a hundred and fifty years ago.

  He waded through the pack of bodies and snagged one of the few empty stools at the bar.

  “Well, well, well, look what the rain brought in.” Jared Stryker slapped his palms down on the other side of the bar. Unlike the polished wood surface at Dante’s Cafe, this bar’s surface was scarred from burning cigarettes, wet glasses and bottles and just plain time. “What’ll you have?”

  “Whatever you have on draft.”

  “Good choice.” He drew a mug and slid it over to him. “Dealing with all those fancy customers must wear a guy out. You look like a train ran over you.” Stryker peered at him closely, then sniffed. “Damn, you’ve been with Goldilocks.”

  Luc’s two-word retort was graphic and to the point.

  “No thanks, you’re not my type.” Stryker was unfazed. “Just as I’d think the lady wouldn’t be your type.” He shot Luc a meaningful look.

  Luc drank the beer and now wished he’d asked for something stronger. “I thought you guys weren’t allowed to moonlight.” He knew changing the subject wouldn’t work, but it might buy him a few minutes to organize his thoughts.

  “I’m here checking out a few people,” Stryker murmured. “Besides, I like tending bar out here. If it gets too rough I can knock a couple heads together and no one gets pissy with me.”

  Luc picked up his beer and drank. “Why do they think my place is a connection? What brought it up?”

  The detective glanced around to make sure no one was listening. The Renegade was known for people minding their own business, but some people would do anything for information.

  “I don’t work domestic and sex crimes,” Stryker replied in a low voice.

  “Why does she?” There was no need for him to clarify his question.

  “Ask her.” At the shouted request for a beer, Stryker opened a bottle and slid it down the bar with practiced ease. “Damn, this job is so easy,” he commented. “Tips suck, though.” He turned back to Luc. “She’s strictly uptown. Her dad’s a big-time estate developer with connections in Sacramento and D.C., her mom’s got one of those platinum pedigrees that goes back to the dawn of man. Goldilocks should be one of those pampered little darlings I used to bust all the time when I was in uniform. It’s not her style. She worked her cute little butt off when she worked patrol, and when the town started growing like wildfire and the department with it, she fought hard to start up a domestic and sex crimes department. Her private life is kept just that. There’s been talk that she and her partner have hit the sheets a time or two, but it’s always been nothing more than talk. No one really knows for sure.”

  Luc rolled the idea over in his mind and instantly dismissed it. She wouldn’t have responded to him the way she had if there was a lover in the background. He’d also seen the two of them together, and no matter how well two people might cover up an affair, there were always small signs. He hadn’t seen any.

  But he’d sure felt something when she kissed him back. No wonder he’d felt as if someone had literally knocked him off his feet. The lady packed quite a punch with her kisses.

  Stryker leaned over the bar, resting his forearms on the scarred wooden surface.

  “So, I’ll ask again. If you were with a tasty morsel like Goldilocks, why are you here now?”

  Luc didn’t say a word.

  Stryker shrugged. “Look, Luc, I may give the lady a hard time, but I can tell you that she’s a straight shooter. She doesn’t lie, she doesn’t use her looks to achieve her goal and she fights for the victims. If she and Parker feel there’s a connection to your place, then there has to be one.” He held up his hand to ask for silence as he anticipated his friend’s argument. “I’m not saying it’s someone working there. Think about it, Luc. You have a lot of people coming and going. Who says it isn’t one of your customers?”

  Luc shook his head. “I don’t want to think someone I know would do something like that.”

  “No one does.” Stryker opened a bottle of beer and drank deeply. “Six months ago I arrested a guy who had decided he didn’t want to be married anymore but didn’t want to pay for a divorce. He thought he’d committed the perfect crime. Now he knows that no matter how many times you clean a hardwood floor, blood residue remains.”

  Luc looked at the man who had grown up on the streets as he had. Been the same kind of hell-raiser.

  “I never would have figured you turning into a cop.”

  “Same here. When Judge “Hard-Ass” Hardisty gave me the choice of the army or jail and I chose the army, I didn’t expect to end up an MP.” He chuckled. “Do you know that bastard is claiming if it wasn’t for him I’d probably be doing twenty to life if not sitting on Death Row right now? Damn him, he’s probably right. At least you took the easier route by straightening yourself out without Hard-Ass after you.”

  “Only because I didn’t want to do twenty to life either.” Luc looked around for the tavern owner. “Where’s Lea?”

  “About as sick as someone can get when they catch the flu. I told her I’d help out tonight since I was off.” Stryker indicated Luc’s mug, silently asking if he wanted another.

  Luc shook his head as he dropped a few bills on the bar. “It wouldn’t be a good idea for one of the owners of Dante’s Cafe to be picked up for drunk driving,” he said. “I’ve got enough to worry about as it is.”

  Stryker nodded. “I’d say you’re probably the only one around here worried about a DUI. I can tell you one thing, Luc. They’re playing this case close to the vest. If it turns out your place isn’t a connection, they’ll make sure no one will ever know they checked the place out.”

  “Yeah, well, we’ll see just how good their word is.” He slid off the stool.

  “You never did say why you’re sitting here talking to me when you could be off somewhere making cozy with you-know-who.”

  Luc knew his grin was more lighthearted than he’d felt in some time.

  “You’re right, I didn’t.”

  Chapter 7

  “H ere you are. Everything you’ve ever wanted to know about Carl Thatcher and were afraid to ask,” Dylan reported, tossing two sheets of paper onto Celeste’s desk. “Other than he and his mother owning Thatcher’s Trees and Flowers and his being a member in good standing of the Better Business Bureau, the man literally has no life.”

  “His mother,” she murmured, picking up the paper and scanning it. “Heidi calls him Norman the Freak because he reminds her of Norman Bates. She even made a joke that she wouldn’t be surprised if he keeps his dead mother in the basement.”

  Dylan dropped into hi
s chair. “No, Mommy Dearest is alive and well. The man is so clean he squeaks. He hasn’t gotten so much as a parking ticket. His mother, on the other hand, is a piece of work.” He held up another sheet of paper with a theatrical flourish. “Disturbing the peace, drunk and disorderly, destruction of public property. She hates pretty much everyone, including her son, who doesn’t have the guts to move out of her house. He’s manager of the plant business that his dad opened more than forty years ago. Mama claims everyone’s out to cheat her, even her son. She keeps a close eye on him and a tight fist on the purse strings.”

  Celeste took the paper from him and quickly scanned the contents.

  “I would think a mother like that would have you hating women, not claiming to love them.”

  “Maybe he’s looking for the love he doesn’t get at home. One interesting tidbit I picked up while checking him out—I found out the name of the rose he delivers to the restaurant.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  “You have been busy this morning. I’m proud of you.”

  Dylan dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Drum roll, please.” He mimicked the motion. “Deceptive Beauty.”

  “Deceptive Beauty,” she repeated. “Very appropriate. You know, we really should go out and have a chat with Carl.”

  “What if he recognizes you?”

  Celeste shook her head. “As far as I know, he hasn’t been in there when I’m working. He goes in about an hour before the restaurant opens. I doubt he’d make a connection anyway.”

  “Then, I agree. Let’s go out and talk to the guy.” Dylan pushed himself out of his chair and grabbed his jacket.

  “Detectives.” Sam Adams paused by their desks. He speared them with the gaze his detectives called downright scary. “Tell me you have something. Anything.”

  “A caveman pretending to be a busboy who’s been a little too grabby with the waitresses,” Celeste replied. “And the man who provides the restaurant with the roses isn’t too popular with the waitresses either. They consider him a freak.”