by Julie Miller
“You’re advising me to leave the scene of a crime, Agent Westin?” he teased.
Tori shushed him and inclined her head toward the restaurant’s interior. “Chad already has. Go on. I can take care of this.”
“That son of a—” Cole surveyed the scene. Martín Lukasiewicz was helping the woman who’d been hiding behind the table with him into a chair. But there was no sign of Chad. Every instinct told him to go after the guy and shake a few truths out of him. But whether she liked it or not, Tori had just earned his full services as her personal bodyguard. “I’m not going anywhere without you. I’ll handle KCPD when they get here.”
Cole’s suspicions revved into overdrive as he headed inside. Chad made no secret that he saw Cole as a rival for his uncle’s inheritance. But a chance meeting allowed him no time to set up a hit. Only Aaron Polakis and Jericho had known he was heading for the Plaza. Jericho didn’t want him dead. But where did Aaron’s loyalties lie?
Maybe Daniel Meade’s killer wanted to stop Cole’s investigation.
Maybe the thief who’d stolen The Divine Horseman wanted to stop Tori’s search.
Maybe men like Chad Meade and Martín Lukasiewicz and Cole Taylor had too many enemies to keep track of.
Too many questions. Not enough answers.
He intended to find some. “Mr. Lukasiewicz.” He startled the short man, who turned around and pushed his glasses up on his nose to see who’d addressed him. “I’m Cole Taylor. I work for the Meade family. Do you have any idea where Chad went?”
The older man squinted through his tiny specs and looked around. His expression seemed more confused than surprised. “No. I didn’t know he was missing.” His thick accent told Cole he was as European as his name. “Do you s’pose he’s all right?”
“I’m sure Chad can take care of himself. Tell me, did he invite you to lunch, or did you bring him here?”
Those dark eyes seemed to hold more intelligence than the short man wanted to reveal. “He came to my gallery to ask about an arrangement I had made with his cousin Daniel. The meeting ran long and he suggested we come here to continue our discussion.”
“Chad invited you here?” he repeated. Lukasiewicz nodded. If Chad had set up the hit, why would he knowingly put himself in the line of fire?
“What was your arrangement with Daniel?”
“That is a personal matter,” he insisted.
“But you told Chad?”
“I only said he asked.”
“How do you know the waiter here?”
He’d hoped changing the topic so abruptly would surprise an answer out of him. But there was nothing old, nothing confused, in the dark, beady-eyed glare Lukasiewicz gave him. And there was no answer he would give. Lukasiewicz pointed across the room.
“Your girlfriend is looking for you, Mr. Taylor.”
Cole’s aching arm grew heavier by the moment, keeping pace with his frustration. Maybe he’d cracked a bone when he’d hit the floor with Tori.
He spotted her kneeling beside the supine figure of the next man on his list to question. Cole dashed over and crouched down beside the young waiter. “Aw, no.” She had two fingers pressed against the kid’s neck, but he could tell she wasn’t finding any pulse. “Damn.”
Another dead body. Another notch carved out of his soul.
Lying in repose like this, the kid looked like he wasn’t even out of high school yet. Cole made a quick inspection without moving the body. “Looks like he took a couple right in the chest. He never stood a chance. He’s too damn young to be mixed up in this.”
Tori sat back on her haunches, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. “But he knew the driver. He made eye contact with him both times I saw him drive by. Like he was waiting for a signal. Or giving one.”
“He knew your friend Lukasiewicz, too.” He glanced over his shoulder to find the small man had vanished, just like Chad. “I see he’s not hanging around to grieve over the loss.”
“The dispatcher said units and ambulances are en route. They took several calls.” She wiped her eyes and blinked away any sign of tears. “I called A.J., too. He’ll try to take lead on the investigation so he can smooth things over for you.”
Cole unbuttoned his suit coat and started to shrug out of it. Even if he was somehow responsible, the kid deserved better than dying with that frozen look of terror on his face. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to take care of me.”
“I don’t do relationships, Cole. Not for real.” Even though she’d already revealed temper, passion, sorrow and something extraordinarily tender, she was determined to deny her emotions. “However, I do need you to stick around until I get the job done.”
“What if a relationship happens anyway?” he challenged, draping his jacket over the corpse’s face and chest. He knew he wasn’t in any position to offer her anything she could count on, but he was damned if he was going to be the only one succumbing to this crazy chemistry between them.
“Cole!” Tori jumped to her feet, circled the body and kneeled down beside him. She took him by the hand and elbow and cradled his forearm across her knee. “That isn’t spaghetti sauce on your arm.” She unbuttoned his cuff and gingerly pulled the white cloth and its spreading crimson stain away from the sticky gash that bisected his skin. She picked up the sleeve of his coat and jabbed her finger into the two tiny holes—entrance and exit—he’d failed to notice. Her eyes were green and wide and full of those denied emotions when she lifted her gaze to his. “You’ve been shot.”
“That would explain the burning sensation.”
Neither of them laughed.
It was just a graze, something easily fixed with a pressure bandage and some antibiotics. But an inch one way would have shattered his arm. An inch the other way and Tori might be dead.
It had been a close call.
They seemed to be getting closer every day.
Chapter Nine
“And there’s nothing else you can tell us about the shooter in the white truck?”
A. J. Rodriguez looked like a completely different man in a pair of faded jeans, thought Tori. He’d been every inch the well-dressed sophisticate when she’d met him for lunch. But with his muscle-hugging T-shirt and the twin-rigged holster he wore on each hip, he looked like unfiltered, streetwise danger. The only visible assurance that he was one of the good guys was the brass-and-nickel-plated badge clipped to his belt.
Cole rolled up his right sleeve to match the length of the left one, which had been cut off by the E.R. nurse in order to clean up the wound and tape on a bandage. “Like I said, he seemed familiar. But beyond the shaggy brown hair and Caucasian skin, I can’t give you a better description.”
A.J.’s partner, Detective Josh Taylor, paced the confines of the small hospital room, poking about the jars of cotton and alcohol swabs, and squeezing the bulb of the blood pressure monitor. “You sure you weren’t the intended target, bro?”
Even before introductions, Tori would have guessed Cole and Josh were brothers. They were both big men with muscular builds. They shared the same chiseled jaw and deep blue eyes. Cole’s were a shade darker and his hair much longer, but as he stood up from the exam table and faced Josh, she was struck by the notion that they were the blond and brunette version of the same man.
She was also struck by the cautious distance Cole seemed determined to keep from his brother. All of their exchanges regarding the shooting had been businesslike and impersonal.
“I know you’re looking for a pattern with the attacks on Ma and Dad and Alex,” Cole said. “You said there was a truck spotted at all three scenes. That’s where I’d focus your investigation. Find the damn truck.”
“We’re working on it, believe me.” Josh shoved his fingers through his hair, leaving short, blond spikes in their wake. “But you gotta have an idea of who’s behind this.”
“You want the long list or the short one?”
Josh grinned. “I want the one that says, ‘Here’s the g
uy—go get him.”’ He shrugged and his boyish expression became deadly serious. “But I’ll settle for knowing that you’re not into something you can’t get out of. I have a wife and baby now, Cole. I’d like to know your trouble isn’t going to spill over and hurt them, too.”
Cole’s expression was equally grim. “I wish I could guarantee that. Believe me, I’m trying to wrap this deal up as quickly as I can, and keep it as far away from our family as possible.”
His blue eyes deadened with so much regret that Tori wanted to go to him and comfort him. But this seemed to be a family moment, and she had little wisdom to guide her in that sphere.
“I never wanted what I do to hurt any of you,” he said.
Josh walked over to his brother and did what she could not. He extended his broad hand and waited until Cole matched the gesture. With Cole’s equally large hand grasping his, Josh tugged and pulled his big brother in for a bear hug. The embrace was brief—backs were slapped, shoulders were squeezed—and then they were pulling away.
“We’ll secure the home front. You just get the bad guys and come home.” A wide grin creased Josh’s face even as he pointed an accusing finger at his big brother. “In one piece, mind you, or Ma will have your hide.”
Cole threw up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll do what I can.”
“What else do you need from us?” asked A.J., ending the mini-reunion and interview.
“Keep me posted with whatever you get on the shooter. I want to know if those slugs are European and if they match the bullets from the Kramer clinic shooting. I’ll try to find things out on my end.” To Tori’s surprise, he turned to where she sat on a stool in the corner. “What about you? Need anything from these bozos?”
Grateful to be included as an equal, not mollycoddled like a damsel in distress or overlooked as inconsequential, Tori stood and joined the three men at the exam table. “Anything you can find out about Martín Lukasiewicz. His visa status, country of birth. The last time he traveled to Europe or New Orleans.”
“You think he has something to do with your Horseman?”
Tori nodded. “He has something to do with Daniel. I think figuring out what Daniel Meade was up to before his disappearance will go a long way toward clearing up both our problems.”
Cole grabbed his coat from the end of the table and turned to the detectives. “Info on Lukasiewicz, then. I’ll keep you posted on anything I find out from my end.”
“Do that.” A.J. offered Cole a salute, then smiled at Tori. “Until our next meeting.”
Josh winked and shook her hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Victoria.” He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Keep your eye on this one—he’s always been the troublemaker in the family.”
“Liar.” Cole swatted Josh’s hand away and laced her fingers with his own. “How many times did I bail you out, growing up?”
“Me?”
The two traded stories, and Tori couldn’t help smiling at the teasing give and take between siblings. After her father’s death, she’d grown up in such a lonely world. Maybe Cole didn’t even realize he’d kept hold of her hand, but she did. It was at once daunting and fascinating to see the closeness within the Taylor family, and to feel like—for those few minutes in that tiny hospital room—she was a welcome part of it.
There was a palpable sigh in the air when A.J. interrupted to remind them it was time to part company. Cole grabbed his coat from the top of the exam table and pulled her toward the door with him. “Congrats on your promotion to detective, Josh. I see you’re trying to take my place.”
“Just makin’ my own, bro.” Josh grinned. It was easy to see who the charmer of the family was. “Just makin’ my own.”
A few minutes later, Tori and Cole were climbing into her Cadillac in the hospital parking lot. The mood had tangibly shifted into something darker and more cautionary since Josh and A.J. had departed in Josh’s big red pickup.
Like her, Cole had scanned every inch of the lot as they walked along. He’d even dropped down to the pavement to check beneath her car before allowing her to unlock it.
Cole wasn’t smiling anymore. As she settled behind the wheel and started the engine and air-conditioning, she wasn’t smiling, either. She was starting to think of Cole Taylor more and more in a personal way, getting caught up in his family and injuries and guilt, requiring that she concentrate very hard to keep things professional between them.
He turned and tossed his jacket into the back, then stayed in that same position, facing her across the front seat. “I have something to tell you.”
She kept her hands on the wheel, but angled her face to his. “That you’re still a cop?”
He shook his head at her astute guess, though his amused grin never reached his eyes. “What gave me away?”
“Beyond the fact that you keep trying to rescue me and are working overtime to keep me away from the ‘bad guys,’ neither Josh nor A.J. questioned you once about your guns, asked to see your permit to carry, or treated you like a suspect despite your well-known ties to organized crime.” She released her grip and sat back in her seat, clenching her fingers together in her lap. “Now either they’re incompetent or on the take—which I doubt on both counts—or they know you’re a good guy.”
“Good guy?” Cole swore, one choice, pithy word. But his anger quickly dissipated. He stared at the windshield, but she had a feeling he wasn’t seeing anything outside. “Technically, I still have the right to wear a KCPD badge. But after everything I’ve seen and done, I don’t feel much like a hero anymore.”
“A.J. used to be your partner, right?”
His nod was slow, his focus distant. “When I made detective, I was assigned to him. He doesn’t say much, but I learned a lot about reading people and making them believe what you want them to from him. We ran a lot of successful undercover ops together.”
Tori rubbed her fingers inside her palms, waiting for him to continue.
“A couple of years ago I was recruited by Dwight Powers, one of the assistant district attorneys, to infiltrate the Meade organization and bring it down from the inside. Powers is sure Meade ordered the hit that killed his wife and baby son.”
Her fingers stilled at the horrific image. She turned in her seat. “Oh my God. Have you found proof?”
Cole shrugged. “I found a trail of circumstantial evidence, but no smoking gun. I should have gotten out months ago. But there was so much more I could do. And then Jericho lost his son. He was so lost. He needed me. He became—”
“—your family?”
“Pretty sad, huh?”
Her hands were tight fists now, evidence that she was subconsciously battling the emotions churning inside her. “Two years is a long time to deny yourself contact with the people you love. It’s natural to look for a substitute. It’s human nature to want to feel important to someone else.”
He wasn’t giving himself a break. “Not that it’s mine to keep, but I am offered as much spending money a month working for Jericho as I made walking a beat a whole year as a cop. You don’t see me walking away from that.”
“Cole, I come from plenty of money. That’s not why you do the job. I can’t believe that’s why you do the job either.”
She drummed her fingers against her thigh. The movement seemed to distract him, and he turned his focus back to her. He braced his left leg up on the seat and gradually angled himself in her direction.
“I’ve killed people. I’ve lied. I’ve altered crime scenes and listened to Jericho confess things that’ll buy him a lethal injection.”
Tori mirrored his position and pressed a fist against her bent knee. “Why did you take the assignment in the first place?”
A long silence passed as he dragged his gaze from her fist up the length of her body. When those dark-blue eyes met hers, they were almost pleading. “Some days I can’t remember.”
Her heart twisted with compassion. She leaned forward and urged him, “Remember now.”
&nbs
p; He laid his hand over her undulating fist and stilled its movement. When she tried to pull away, he tightened his grip. “You asked.”
He challenged her to share, just as she’d challenged him to do so. His hand was warm and slightly calloused around hers. It was bigger and more tanned and shaking just enough to let her know his need for human contact with her was real.
Tori turned her hand palm-up to meet his and the trembling stopped. He scooted a few inches closer and pulled her hand over to his knee. He draped his left arm across the back of the seat and reached out to brush her cheek. It was a tickle of sensation that heated her cheeks. His eyes flickered as they studied her reaction to his gentle, sensual touch.
“Meade’s people were moving drugs into the neighborhood where I grew up. Hell, they were moving them all over the city. A few innocent people took a stand against it and got beat up or terrorized for their trouble. Dwight Powers took a stand. He had Jericho nailed on some lesser charges—illegal property sales, witness intimidation. One of Jericho’s lawyers got the charges thrown out on technicalities.”
His right thumb was stroking the inside of her palm now, creating shivers of heat that skittered through her body from cheek to palm, waking dormant responses along the physical and emotional planes in between.
“But Dwight kept coming. Daniel Meade was never meticulous about keeping records or shy about making public threats. Dwight had him pinned and was set to prosecute, when the accident happened.”
Tori’s hand flinched within his. “Accident?”
“Jericho hired someone to blow up his wife’s car with her and the baby inside.”
“Oh God.” Sensual sparks short-circuited and something deeper, more urgent took their place. She knit her fingers together with his and held on tight.
“It was an eye for an eye thing, according to Jericho. You hurt what I love, I hurt what you love.” Cole abruptly pulled his hands away and cursed royally, thoroughly, rudely. “A man like that has to be stopped.”
Tori slid closer, reaching for him. “We’ll stop him.”