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Restore My Heart

Page 23

by Cheryl Norman


  “I suppose I should thank you for that. Are you going to report it to the Feds?”

  Her snort of disgust took him by surprise. “Give it a rest, Joe. Your betrayed, injured-party routine is wearing thin.”

  Betrayed, injured-party routine? “What are you talking about?”

  Sally sighed, then slid out of the booth. “Forget it.”

  Joe caught up with her. “Whatever you’re trying to say, spit it out.”

  “Walk me to my car. We don’t need an audience.”

  “What about your bodyguard?” He pointed with his chin toward the bar, where Justin Clay watched them.

  “We came in separate cars. He can follow me home.”

  Outside, she leaned her back against the fender and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve given your reaction, your overreaction, a lot of thought. I did nothing dishonorable, nothing you wouldn’t do in the same spot. I didn’t know you and had promised to help the FBI.”

  “You could’ve told me later. I thought you trusted me.”

  “I planned to tell you, just as soon as I cleared it with Ferguson.” Sally shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. If you were as honest as you believe yourself to be, you’d admit the truth.”

  He clenched his jaw. Maybe she had a point, but he wasn’t ready to concede. How could he want to wring her neck and make love to her at the same time? “What truth?”

  “You needed an out. All that talk about my tempting you to change your life.” She shook her head. “You were running scared, needing to escape. Well, here’s a news flash. You’re free, Joe Desalvo. Got it? I never asked you for promises. Didn’t expect any.”

  Her strong steady voice nearly convinced him. The light of the street lamp caught a shimmer of tears filling her eyes. She turned to unlock the door of her Mustang, her hands trembling so violently they rattled the keys. Slumping against the window, she hung her head and sighed. “Go back to Atlanta and leave me alone.”

  The impulse to touch her pushed aside his anger. Settling his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to meet his gaze. At least she didn’t rebuff his touch, although the defeat in her face tore at his heart. He wanted to believe she wasn’t a conniving, underhanded woman with an agenda. He wanted to believe she was exactly that, someone he could leave.

  “Dammit, Sally, I can’t.”

  He crushed his lips against hers, tasting the salty tears, the hint of beer, the unique flavor of her mouth. Her soft sigh was all the encouragement he needed. He slipped his tongue between her lips, savoring the taste he couldn’t seem to get enough of.

  Sally shoved at his chest with her fists, her keys poking at his ribs. “No!”

  Joe immediately dropped his hands. “You kissed back.”

  “So what? I can’t do this with you anymore, you—you—Walkaway Joe.”

  “Walkaway Joe? What does that mean?” Joe’s mouth sizzled from the lingering heat of their kiss, but he’d not make that mistake again.

  “You think I’m upset because you’re leaving? You think I need your comfort?”

  “You are upset—”

  “I’m just tired.” Sally raised her chin, staring him down. “Dodging murderers and arsonists wears a person down. The last thing I want is your pity.”

  “Pity had nothing to do with that kiss. We both know it.”

  She turned again to work the key in the door. “Good night.”

  Pushing the point would gain him nothing, not with Sally in her present mood. How dare she put him on the defensive, anyway! “Good bye, Sally.”

  He pivoted toward his car. Scanning the parking lot, he looked for any possible threat, as had become his habit the past week. Justin Clay, his arms crossed over his chest, glared at Joe from the doorway. Had he seen Joe kiss his daughter? Or was the guy just serious in his role as watch dog?

  Stomping to his car, Joe wasted no time figuring out Justin’s motives. If he worried about Sally’s involvement with Joe, he could relax. Joe had no intention of seeing her again. He’d go home, she’d help the FBI nail the bad guys, and her father could retreat to the living room and waste away in front of the boob tube.

  Joe pushed his keyless entry, then flung open the door. Escaping Louisville would be a blessing. He didn’t need the hassle of moody women and guilt trips. As he slid behind the wheel, he hesitated. Moody women. Instead of Sally Clay, Barbara Bloom’s image filled his mind.

  Undefined misgivings skirted his thoughts, but he couldn’t pin anything down. Something about Sally’s conversation with Ellen Kennedy bugged him. He’d visit with his mom tonight, have a little chat about life at the office.

  Sally fought the dragging fatigue as she leaned into the kitchen counter and pushed away. Fifty incline pushups should do the trick. Exercise usually rejuvenated her. She pushed harder, ignoring protests from her knee. Her father gave her a curious stare as he stepped around her on his way to the refrigerator.

  “Dad, I’m sorry.” She paused to catch a breath. “I haven’t been to the store.”

  Peering inside the refrigerator, he muttered a curse. He closed the door, then snatched up his jacket from a dinette chair, glowering at Sally. “Keep the doors locked.”

  She continued her pushups and scowled at his back, biting back a retort. Just when she thought they’d made progress, Dad would revert to his old ways. She’d be damned if she’d feel guilty for running out of beer.

  As she heard the deadbolt engage, she couldn’t shake the image of a prison cell. Her cell. She’d already served a nine-year sentence, running a home the best she knew how, which wasn’t very well. She barely kept up with dishes and laundry, along with frequent stops at Kroger’s for the few groceries she was able to carry. Add to that her sixty hours a week at Mustang Sally’s and her three-times-per-week visits to rehab, she had little time for frivolities like shaping her eyebrows or shopping for clothes.

  Sliding to the floor, she stretched out her legs and sighed. She’d told Joe she was finished with self-pity, yet here she sat, feeling sorrier for herself than she’d felt in ages. Joe. He figured prominently into this pity party. He’d hurt her. No surprise there. Hadn’t she set herself up for it? She had nobody to blame but her disgusting, love-starved self. Even in fury, she couldn’t resist his touch. Memory of tonight’s bone-melting kiss stirred her hormones into full-scale lust.

  She licked her lips and swallowed, tasting him still. A yearning gripped her without mercy, sucking her down into a dangerous quicksand of pointless dreams.

  Cut the melodrama, Sally.

  She needed sleep. Right. Mind-numbing escape. She’d rest on the floor for just a moment, then drag her butt to the shower. Just one minute of relaxation.

  “Sally! What happened?”

  She jerked open her eyes and met her father’s alarmed stare. “Uh, I was just—” Jeez, what time was it? Had she fallen asleep? “I was resting. What’s wrong?”

  Dad collapsed onto a dinette chair, heaving a weary sigh. “I saw you lying there and thought—”

  Sally struggled to her feet, climbing the cabinet for support. Ten years ago, she would’ve wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him. Men. They had to be tip-toed around, handled with kid gloves. She’d had enough.

  Ellen Kennedy had raised new questions in her mind about her dad, questions she planned to ask him. Soon. But not tonight.

  Stepping behind him, she slid her hands around his neck. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  He stiffened but didn’t shrug off her embrace. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

  “I’m twenty-seven years old, Dad. It’s really okay for you to expect me to take care of myself.”

  “Not with Roy’s killer loose.”

  “I’ll be careful.” Sally kissed his cheek, then stood. “I’m going to shower now.”

  Although he hadn’t resisted her show of affection, Sally didn’t push her luck. What she really wanted to do was keep hugging her dad, holding him until she melted all bitterness and disappoin
tment from his heart. She wanted him to love her and laugh with her the way he used to, before the accident.

  Why not add that to her collection of pointless dreams?

  “What is it, son?” Joe’s mother slid a cup of steaming hot cocoa across the table. “Is it something to do with Sally?”

  Joe told his mother about Sally’s involvement with the FBI.

  “And this proves you can’t trust her?”

  “Doesn’t it?”

  “I think she wanted to tell us. Remember the other night? She sat here and told us if we put the doctored books with other evidence, the FBI could put Vic Bloom in prison. She seemed to understand FBI jurisdiction. I’m not surprised she’d been in contact with them, honey.”

  His own mother? “You don’t feel betrayed?”

  “No, but I’m not the one in love with her.”

  He stiffened. “Don’t start pulling a grandma on me. I never claimed to be in love with Sally. On the contrary.”

  His mother wasn’t buying it. “At the risk of sounding like your grandmother, what’s wrong with falling in love and settling down, son? It’s not as if you come from a broken home or never witnessed a happy marriage.”

  “I’m not like Dad. My work consumes so much of my energy, there’s not much of me left.”

  “If your career makes you happy, I support you. I won’t say another word. I can’t promise the same for Grandma.”

  “How was she tonight?” Joe jumped on the change in subject.

  “Tired. Cranky.”

  “Cranky? She gets released tomorrow, doesn’t she?”

  “Yes, but she wasn’t happy about coming here.”

  “Need me to go with you to the hospital?”

  “No. Sofia already offered.”

  “The boss is letting her have time off? Surprise, surprise.”

  “Well, he may not be the most sensitive man, but Brendan loves Sofia and knows how close she is to Grandma.”

  Joe chuckled. “He also knows he’s not in Grandma’s good graces. Maybe he’s campaigning.”

  “Maybe.” His mother sipped the last of her cocoa. “What’s on your mind, Joey? I don’t mean to pry, but—”

  “How well do you know Vic and Barbara?” Joe asked.

  “Very well, I think. They were married shortly after Leo and I. Barbara and I saw each other often since our husbands were good friends and business partners. Why?”

  “I got the impression she resented you inheriting the partnership.”

  “I doubt that. Barbara and I’ve never been close friends, but she hardly has reason to resent me. At least not now.”

  “Not now? What do you mean?”

  His mother sighed. “Hardly worth mentioning. Years ago, Barbara dated Leo before she dated Vic. That was before your dad met me.”

  “Did he dump her for you?”

  “Well, she may have seen it that way. Leo didn’t consider the two of them a serious item. Once he and I fell in love, he forgot all about Barbara or any of the women he dated. She and Vic got together and that was that.”

  Was it? “She said you had everything she wanted. I assumed she meant family, since she and Vic never had kids.”

  “I’m sure she didn’t mean Leo. Lordy, she and Vic were two lovebirds, absolutely inseparable. I never heard them talk about children, but Leo had a theory.”

  Joe waited for his mom to continue. She examined her empty cup as if debating whether to make more cocoa, then set it back down. “He overheard an argument years ago between Vic and Barbara that led him to believe she had misled him when they married. She apparently miscarried in her teens and didn’t seek medical attention until it was too late.”

  “Her parents didn’t take care of her?”

  “I think she’d tried to hide her pregnancy from them. They weren’t well off, financially, and they had a lot of mouths to feed. Who knows what she was thinking? Anyway, Leo’s theory is either the infection left her sterile or caused her to need a hysterectomy. Whatever it was, she neglected to tell Vic until they’d been married a few years.”

  “I don’t blame Vic for being angry. She should’ve trusted him enough to tell him before the wedding.”

  “Joey, don’t judge Barbara. Sometimes secrets are too painful to tell, even to those we love, and especially when we’re afraid of recrimination.”

  Joe ignored the hint. He refused to talk further about Sally. “Is that what you think happened with Dad? He suspected someone was ripping off the business but couldn’t tell you?”

  She nodded. “He would’ve told me, eventually. If he suspected Vic, he gave him every benefit of the doubt.”

  “You don’t care much for Vic, do you?”

  His mother sighed, shaking her head. “He and Leo were partners. I just thought he should be more sensitive to Barbara. I thought he should’ve been more sensitive to your dad about the Darrin.”

  “But things weren’t what they seemed there, either.” Just as they hadn’t been with Sally. Damn! Why did she keep popping into his head? “Mom, I think either Vic or both he and Barbara are working with this Dan Alsop character in a fraud scheme. Dad found out and was killed for it. The file was hidden in Vic’s office.”

  “You suspect Barbara, too? Why?”

  “She’s ambitious. Perhaps she doesn’t know what’s going on, but pressures Vic to make more money. Have you noticed anything at work to back up my theory?”

  “Handling payroll and the bookkeeping keeps Barbara busy. I’ve never seen her involved with a customer except to collect money when the cashier’s away. She works hard, son, and seems to know her job.”

  “I think I’ll go into the office with you tomorrow and hang around. I’d love to catch Vic with his hands on that USB drive.”

  “If he’s truly involved, I doubt it’ll be that easy.”

  “I don’t get it. You don’t particularly like the guy but you don’t think he’s involved. Enlighten me.”

  She smiled. “Call it intuition. Vic’s never been greedy. It’s the one thing that made him click with Leo. Both were happy with small gains, modest profits. It’s what I call the secret of their success.”

  But Ellen Kennedy had told Sally both Barbara and Vic had pressured her to buy. “People change.”

  “Yes, they do,” his mother answered with a pointed look.

  He wasn’t about to pursue her meaning. Undoubtedly, the discussion would return to Sally. Yawning, Joe excused himself and escaped to his quarters in the stable.

  The next morning, Joe arrived at Bloom Desalvo in record time, before anyone else. Unable to sleep, he’d showered and dressed before daybreak. What few winks he’d managed were interrupted with dreams. Although he couldn’t recall much of the dreams, they’d all featured Sally Clay in the starring role. His subconscious had betrayed his efforts to keep her from his thoughts, allowing the dark-eyed witch to intrude day and night.

  Few cars passed this early, although in thirty minutes rush hour would be in full swing. Joe removed the key from his pocket, the key he’d need to give his mother when he left Friday. Friday, four days away. Three days to wrap up his family affairs. Three days to bring closure to his father’s death.

  Now that the police had agreed to take another look at his dad’s case, and the FBI had arrived, little remained for Joe to do. Still he couldn’t dispel the feeling of unfinished business. He’d uncovered more questions than answers regarding his father’s death. Or was his unfinished business with Sally? If so, why? He’d known her only a couple of weeks. How had she threaded her way into his life, anyway?

  In all fairness, it had been his own doing. Hadn’t she resisted his invitations to dinner? Spurned his advances? He’d taken it as a challenge to get past that huge chip on her shoulder, to prove her attractiveness as a woman. A vision of her in the glamorous gown and elegant hairstyle, dancing in his arms at the Derby Ball, lingered in his mind. Attractive, indeed! Sally had been a diamond in the rough in need of a bit of romancing. She’d transformed i
nto a stunning beauty.

  Another vision pushed its way into his mind, the sight of Justin Clay’s face, contorted with revulsion at Sally’s scarred leg. Damn him, anyway. He could hardly be part of an orchestrated scheme to gain Joe’s sympathy. No matter what she’d intended, she hadn’t planned an elaborate set-up to earn Joe’s trust and confidence. Sally was the real deal, a genuine article. His heart saw it; his hard head didn’t. And he’d treated her like shit.

  Before he left for Atlanta, he’d see Sally one more time. Apologize. Admit she’d been right in not violating the FBI’s confidence. Hope to mend his friendship with her.

  If he hadn’t damaged it beyond repair.

  Lost in his thoughts, it took him a moment to register the light coming from Vic Bloom’s office. Odd. The offices were typically dark when Joe was first to arrive. Dead silence greeted him when he hesitated at Vic’s doorway.

  Dead silence and a dead body.

  Chapter

  EIGHTEEN

  Sally stifled a yawn, hoping the young man seated in her office this morning hadn’t noticed. Adam Ferguson looked nothing like Sally’s image of an FBI Special Agent. She’d bet he wasn’t as old as she, though close to it. Tall and lean, he flashed Sally a quick smile that rivaled that of golf champion Tiger Woods. His ebony hair was closely cropped; his wire-rimmed glasses set off eyes the color of honey. Where was the thick-waisted, balding guy she’d talked with over the phone?

  The incongruity of Special Agent Ferguson’s blue wool suit and buffed wingtips in her grimy garage reminded her of Joe Desalvo’s first visit. Unfortunately, everything reminded her of Joe. Her jumbled emotions over him had robbed her of much needed sleep.

  “I have some questions about Leo Desalvo’s son,” Adam Ferguson continued, as if reading her mind.

  “I told you, he’s clueless. He reads the Wall Street Journal, not Hemming’s Motor News. He couldn’t care less about the auto business.”

  “Maybe. But the Jefferson County Police seem to think differently.”

 

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