by J. B. Lynn
Taking his eyes off the road, he glanced at her incredulously. “You’re kidding.”
“I asked, probably hundreds of times, including when she was on her death bed, and she refused to tell me.”
“Did she say why?”
“She said I had to be my own person.” Her mocking anger flooded the interior of car, sucking out all the oxygen.
“That’s a pretty weak reason.” He pulled into the driveway in front of Mrs. M.’s restored Victorian house. Every room seemed to be lit up.
“Trust me, I told her that and much worse.” She reached for her door handle.
Stretching across the car, he stopped her.
She froze in place, her eyes round and searching. Wanting, needing, to make her feel better, he brushed his lips against hers, offering her gentle comfort.
But the storm of emotions swirling inside her was more powerful than he anticipated. She kissed him back with an intensity that demanded attention from every cell in his body. Her tongue tangoed with his, her fingers tangled in his hair, and she strained to press against him, despite the car’s gearshift.
Despite the confines of the car, and the fact that they were parked outside the home of one of his bosses, he matched her passion, burning with the need to be closer to her. To sample all of her. To brand himself on her, even as her touch burned him.
A sharp knock against the window startled them both, dousing their ardor, and sending them back to their respective seats.
“Lovers Lane is a few blocks down, Romeo,” a woman’s voice lectured drily.
Brady glared through the glass at Alyssa Montgomery, trying to regain control.
Maybe he really was cursed.
Chapter Twenty
Heartbeat still pounding from the kiss, Amy peered out the windshield at the tall, no-nonsense woman who was glaring at Brady like he was a piece of gum that had the audacity to get stuck to her shoe. She wondered if the beautiful blonde was Brady’s ex. That might explain the level of animosity emanating from her.
Amy slumped down in her seat, hoping she could hide from the woman’s wrath.
Brady threw open his door and went to jump out of the car, but his seatbelt was still buckled so he didn’t get very far.
Amy barely stifled the nervous laughter that bubbled out of her.
“She’s fired me three times since she called you,” the blonde told Brady as he disengaged the safety belt and climbed from the car.
“You’re not fired,” Brady muttered.
“Who says I won’t quit?” the blonde countered.
Brady stuck his head back into the car to look at Amy. “Are you coming inside?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Desperately,” he admitted. “Mrs. M. likes you.”
“Okay then.” Grabbing her purse, Amy emerged the car and offered a tentative smile to the icy blonde. “Hello. I’m Amy.”
“Alyssa,” the other woman replied brusquely, rounding the car with an effective stride to offer a businesslike handshake. “You’re the one who took on the mugger?”
Amy nodded.
Alyssa ran an assessing eye over her. “Impressive. Or stupid like the old lady keeps saying.”
“Brady? Is that you?” the older lady called from the doorway.
“It’s me.” Grabbing her hand, Brady dragged Amy along with him.
She had the impression he was prepared to use her as a human shield.
“Mr. Burberry is missing and it’s that horrible woman’s fault,” Mrs. M. complained.
“I’m sure Alyssa didn’t mean any harm,” Brady soothed.
Mildred scowled, but when she recognized Amy, the deepest lines on her face became less pronounced. “Well hello, Amy.”
“Ma’am.”
“Do you like cats?”
Amy blinked, surprised by the question. “Yes. I have one named Pippin.”
“Good. She,” she gave Alyssa the evil eye, “doesn’t like them. Never trust someone who doesn’t like a cat. That’s what I always say. Maybe you can find him.”
Amy was still confused. “Your cat?”
“Mr. Burberry,” Brady supplied helpfully.
Amy tried desperately to make sense of the conversation. “The one Gerald—”
“Another responsibility you’ve delegated, Brady,” Mildred shouted.
Closing his eyes, Brady shook his head.
“I’ll help you find your cat,” Amy offered quickly, wanting to save Brady. “When did you last see him?”
“Before that one,” Mildred waved a hand in Alyssa’s direction, “let him out.”
“I keep telling you, I didn’t let him out,” the blonde retorted through clenched teeth. “He’s got to still be inside.”
Planting her hands on her hips, Mildred fixed the blonde with an icy glare. “Then why can’t I find him?”
“Why don’t you look for him inside the house again and we’ll look outside,” Amy suggested, trying to alleviate the growing tension.
“Fine.” Mrs. M. stepped back inside and slammed the door, leaving the three younger people standing in the driveway.
“I can’t believe I let Tom talk me into helping you out,” Alyssa muttered.
“I can’t believe you let her cat out,” Brady countered.
“I didn’t.”
“Cats are very good at finding hiding places,” Amy interrupted. “There’s a good chance he’s still indoors, holed up under a bed or in a corner.”
Brady sighed. “Okay. I’ll go search inside while the two of you look around out here.” Turning to Amy he added, “I really am sorry about all of this.”
“It’s a memorable first date,” she told him with an easy smile before realizing she’d just said they were on a date.
His answering wink and grin filled her with a swell of giddy happiness.
“True love,” Alyssa mocked as Brady hurried into the house.
Amy wondered if she heard a note of jealousy in the other woman’s tone.
“I’ll go this way, you go that,” Alyssa ordered, pointing Amy in the direction she wanted her to search.
The grounds of the old Victorian house were filled with well-lit gardens. Amy walked through them slowly, peering into the shadows, calling, “Where are you Mr. Burberry? Here, kitty, kitty.”
Having no luck, she was about to head back toward the front of the house when she spotted the detached garage. Knowing that when Pippin got loose, she usually ended up beneath a parked car, Amy paused wondering if Mr. Burberry had curled up beneath a car in the garage.
Hearing a faint rustling coming from behind the garage door, she felt a surge of hope. Maybe she’d found the cat and she and Brady could get on with their date. The thought made her smile.
Slowly, she lifted the heavy door. “Are you in there, Mr. Burberry?”
The noise stopped.
Raising the door the rest of the way, she stepped inside the darkened structure, waiting for her eyes to adjust. “Here, kitty, kitty.”
Hearing nothing, she fumbled for her keychain, needing the mini-flashlight attached. Finally, she flipped on the light. The weak beam cut a narrow swath through the shadows.
“C’mon, kitty,” she cajoled, bending over to shine the light under the car she stood nearest. The light didn’t reveal anything except an oil stain.
Shuffling over to the next car, she swept the beam beneath the car.
The light reflected off a pair of eyes.
Her momentary surge of victory was replaced with panic when she realized they weren’t feline.
Before she could react, a strong hand snaked out, grabbed her ankle and yanked hard. She fell backward, dropping her purse, and letting out a startled shriek.
“Shut up,” the man beneath the car growled, dragging her toward him.
For a moment fear paralyzed her. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. Then her survival instincts took over. The instructions Diego had drilled into her head until they became second nature came to her ai
d.
Kicking at the man beneath the car with all her might, she screamed, “Help! Help!”
She reached for her purse, hoping to get to her can of pepper spray, but it was too far away.
“Shut up!” the man roared.
“Help!”
Drawing back her unfettered foot, she kicked again, this time connecting with a satisfying thud. The grip on her ankle loosened. Getting free, she dragged herself away from her captor. Scrambling to her feet, she searched wildly for something to use as a weapon, but saw nothing.
Hearing him coming up behind her, she lunged outside the garage, the light from the garden temporarily blinding her. Stumbling away, she felt a hand close over her shoulder. Wrenching free, she raced along the garden path.
“Help!” she screamed again as her captor closed in on her.
She didn’t even see the person who appeared in front of her. She barreled into another body full force, knocking them both to the ground.
Gasping for breath, she tried to wriggle free. Fighting to disentangle herself from the other person’s limbs, she didn’t see what happened next, but she was dimly aware of a distant groan of pain and a heavy crash.
Chapter Twenty-One
Brady had never been so afraid in his life as he had the moment he heard Amy scream. The idea that she was hurt or frightened made his body go cold.
His heartbeat tripled as he’d raced toward the sound.
It still wasn’t back to normal.
Glancing down the driveway at Amy, who was talking to a pair of uniformed police officers, he swallowed hard, trying to rid himself of the sour taste in his mouth, a byproduct of the fear he’d felt.
Alyssa, who’d tackled the man who’d attacked Amy and ultimately gotten away, was being examined by a paramedic. She didn’t look so great.
Amy looked fine, but he’d felt the terror reverberating through her when she’d crashed into him and knocked them both to the ground.
As though she sensed his gaze on her, she lifted her eyes in his direction, offering him a smile and thumbs-up to assure him she was okay.
“She’s tougher than she looks,” Mrs. M. remarked.
Brady looked down at the older woman beside him. The same could be said for her. When he’d heard the sound, he’d raced out of her home to rescue Amy. Despite her age, Mrs. M. hadn’t been far behind him, although unlike him, she had the foresight to arm herself, emerging from the house brandishing a fire iron.
“Are you helping her?” Mrs. M. asked.
“I tried,” he replied, “but my mother wants Eric to help her.”
Mrs. M. snorted. “Of course she does.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Your mother was never happy with the deal you made with Milton. She wanted to protect you.”
“From what?”
“Being corrupted.” Before he could protest, she held up a hand to silence him. “I know. I know. You were happy to make the deal. You thought Eric’s father walked on water, heck, everyone thinks that, but the truth is he made some questionable choices. Choices your mother knew about.”
Brady’s stomached lurched uneasily. “Questionable?”
Mildred nodded. “Ask your mother. I’m done talking out of turn.”
Before Brady could dig for more information, Alyssa marched up to them, Mr. Burberry in her arms. “Found him. Everyone okay?”
Without thinking Brady glanced in Amy’s direction.
Following his line of sight, Alyssa assured him, “She’s fine. You’ll be able to take her home in a few minutes.”
“What about you, young lady?” Mrs. M. asked, squinting up at the blonde. “Are you fine?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She handed the cat to his owner. “It’s lucky the cat got out.”
“How do you figure that?” Mildred asked sharply.
“If he hadn’t, we wouldn’t have known about the bomb under your car.”
“Bomb?” Brady and Mildred gasped simultaneously.
Her expression grim, Alyssa nodded. “I’m starting to think you’re in big trouble, Mrs. M.”
“I’m starting to think firing you was a bad idea.” The old woman hugged the cat tightly, causing him to mewl his discomfort.
“Consider me rehired.” Glancing in Amy’s direction, she murmured, “You should take her home, Stewart.”
Brady looked down at Mrs. M. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“I’ve told you before I’m too old to need a babysitter.”
“But you do need a bodyguard,” Alyssa interjected.
“Agreed. Come inside, dear.” Clutching Mr. Burberry, Mildred walked toward the house.
“I’ll call in backup,” Alyssa assured Brady before hurrying after her.
Turning, Brady saw Amy moving away from the cops. “Ready to go home?”
She nodded.
Wordlessly, they walked to his car and got inside. A residual tension settled in his chest, making it hard to breathe normally.
Starting the ignition, he paused before putting the car into gear. “This was not how I imagined our day going.”
“You’ve got to admit it’s memorable,” she teased, a smile in her voice.
Twisting in his seat to face her, he confessed on a ragged tone, “When you screamed... If something had happened to you...”
Reaching up, she laid her hand against his face, her warmth seeping into his skin. “But nothing did. I’m fine.” Leaning over, she placed a feathery kiss to his chin.
He resisted the urge to capture her mouth with his. Instead he hung his head, admitting, “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Tell me what to do to make this better for you.”
“Take me home,” she requested softly.
So he put the car into drive, eased away from the Victorian, and began the trip across town.
They hadn’t gotten very far when she said, “This inheritance, whatever it is, certainly has had some weird side-effects.”
“But not all of them are bad?” Brady suggested hopefully.
“Not all of them.”
Something in her tone made him think that she was remembering their kiss. Throat dry and body thrumming, he struggled to concentrate on his driving.
They drove the rest of the way in silence.
“That’s me,” she finally said, pointing to a dilapidated apartment building.
Pulling to a stop in front of it, he said, “I’ll walk you in.”
“There’s no need.” She reached for her door handle.
“Maybe not.” He hopped out of the car. “But it will make me feel better.”
Side-by-side, they climbed the stairs to the top floor.
“Must be a workout when you’ve got groceries.”
Searching for her keys in her purse, she muttered, “I don’t really cook.”
“You don’t cook?” He couldn’t keep from blurting out, surprised.
“Don’t look so shocked, not every woman cooks.”
She inserted a key into the top lock. “Do you cook?”
“Of course.”
“Now that surprises me. I figured with a big family and all those sisters, you’d do the bachelor take-out thing.” She unlocked the bottom lock and cracked the door open.
“Is that what you do?” He peered over her shoulder, curious to get a glimpse into the home of the woman who didn’t cook.
“I eat a lot of leftovers from the restaurant.” Bending over, she scooped up the cat that tried to escape through the cracked door. “But I do keep a can opener on hand to feed Pippin here.”
“Hi, Pippin.” Brady held out his hand so the cat could sniff him. He was surprised when it rubbed its head against his fingers and purred loudly.
“She likes you,” Amy whispered.
“She has good taste,” Brady whispered back.
“Hi, Amy!” a male voice boomed behind them.
They whirled to see a hulking figure of
a man standing just behind them.
“Hi, Roscoe,” Amy squeaked nervously.
Brady squinted up at the man whose face was partially obscured by shadows. “Roscoe? Like Roscoe Underwood?”
“That’s me,” the guy said, pride warring with trepidation.
“Oh man. I’m your biggest fan.” Brady stuck out his hand, not believing his luck. He was standing in front of one of his heroes, shaking his hand.
“Fan of what?” Amy asked curiously.
“Roscoe Underwood is one of the greatest football players this town ever knew,” Brady told her enthusiastically. “Local boy. All-star in college. Should have gone to the Super Bowl but…” Realizing what he’d been about to say, Brady trailed off.
“But I was accused of murder.” The anger in Roscoe’s tone suddenly made the landing they stood on seem much smaller. “Lost everything.”
“I didn’t know,” Amy said softly.
“That’s one of the reasons I like you,” the giant’s voice softened. “You had no idea who I was and never wanted anything from me.”
Reaching out, he rubbed the top of Pippin’s head. She purred her appreciation. “I didn’t mean to break up your date or anything, I just wanted to tell you that Mr. Dixon signed for a package for you earlier.”
“Thank you,’ Amy said. “I’ll be sure to get it from him tomorrow.”
“Good.”
“Sometimes the super forgets to give people their deliveries,” Amy explained to Brady.
“Well I don’t want to interrupt your date or anything,” Roscoe said, taking a step away. “Nice to meet you, man.”
“Brady.”
“Nice to meet you, Brady.”
“Hey,” Brady suggested. “Maybe someday we can get a drink and relive your glory days.”
Roscoe chuckled. “I think I’d like that.” Still laughing, he strolled across the hall and let himself in.
When he was gone Brady asked, “You really had no idea who he was?”
Pushing the door open, she stepped inside. “I’m not into sports. Come in.”
Following her into the darkened room, he said, “But his murder trial was front page news.”
“I’m not into newspapers either.”
She put Pippin down on a chair. “Would you like something to drink?”