Up In Flames: Body HeatCaught in the Act

by Lori Foster

  She couldn’t bring herself to accept the man’s hand.

  He eased back, putting his hand in his pocket. The other held a clipboard. “Ms. Piper, I’m Detective Faradon, lead investigator on the robbery you were involved in.” He checked his clipboard, then rattled off the date and time and location.

  Del concentrated on finding her breath and centering her thoughts. She had to deal with this—whatever it might be. “Could you please tell me what this is all about?”

  Rather than sit, Faradon propped his hip on the edge of the table. Del expected the table to collapse under his weight, but it held.

  She skipped another glance at Mick. He was staring at her with such stony concentration that it struck her like a physical blow, forcing her to flinch away.

  The other two detectives watched her as well. It was like being on display, or caught in a hangman’s noose, and it hurt.

  “Ms. Piper, are you acquainted with Rudy Glasgow?”

  She shook her head, then stopped abruptly. “Yes, he’s the man in the hospital, the man Mick shot.”

  “So you do know him?”

  “I know of him.” Her heart beat too hard, too fast. “I’ve read the accounts since the shooting. His name has been in the papers. He’s...he’s unconscious.”

  “Not anymore.” The man surveyed her through lowered, bushy brows. His expression turned speculative, calculating. Finally, he said, “He claims to know you.”

  Forgetting her sweaty blouse, Del dropped back hard in her chair. Her spine offered less support than an overcooked noodle. “He’s wrong,” she replied flatly.

  “He claims,” the man continued, glancing at his clipboard, “that you set the whole thing up as a publicity stunt.”

  Del’s gaze shot to Mick and locked with his. Neither of them blinked. Dear God, surely he didn’t believe such an idiotic story.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “That’s it?” Mick asked, his voice harsh and loud in the closed room. “No other explanations?”

  Del searched his beautiful face, his once gentle face, and her heart crumbled. The flat, compressed line of his mouth, his locked jaw and dark flinty brown eyes showed his distaste.

  For her.

  Del winced with a very real pain. He’d already found her guilty in his mind. She wanted to reach out to him, to touch him, but she couldn’t. She didn’t think he’d let her.

  “Mick?” she whispered.

  His expression hardened even more and he looked away.

  It hurt worse than anything she’d ever felt. She murmured to his averted face, “I can’t believe you just did that. I...I really can’t.”

  He gave her another sharp look, but this time she dismissed him.

  Looking down at her hands, Del said, “I don’t know Rudy Glasgow, and I didn’t set up the robbery for a publicity stunt. I don’t do that.”

  “You have been known,” Detective Breer pointed out, “for your extravagant research tactics.”

  “Tactics that have never hurt anyone or broken any laws.” She felt hollow, stiff. Wounded. “I was there that day, as I’ve already said, to see how a robber would set things up, but—”

  “Isn’t that something of a coincidence,” Detective Darney asked, her voice soft in comparison to the men’s, “that a robbery would take place while you were doing your research for a robbery?”

  “Yes.” Del’s stomach churned with an awful dread. “It’s an incredible coincidence.”

  “You’ve spoken with him.”

  Del jumped at the lash of Mick’s accusation. She didn’t quite look at him when she asked in a small voice, “Who?”

  He rounded the table until he faced her from the other side, giving her no choice but to meet his gaze. “Glasgow. I saw him today.” He slashed a hand through the air, impatient, provoked. “He knows things.”

  “What kind of things?”

  After glancing at the other people in the room, Mick narrowed his eyes on her. “Things you and I have done. Intimate details that he couldn’t have guessed at.”

  Detective Darney turned away. The men stared at her, their attention burning hot. Embarrassment hit her first, then a wave of remorse for what Mick had clearly thrown away.

  And finally her temper ignited in scalding sensation. It chased away the numbness and burned away the hurt. Her heart raced, her pulse pounded.

  Very slowly, she came to her feet. “I haven’t spoken to anyone about anything we’ve done.”

  “He knew it all, Delilah. He knew details.”

  She stared over his shoulder, her mind racing as the ramifications of that sank in. “Then he...he found out some other way.”

  “How?”

  “It’s not my job to figure it out.” She turned pointedly to Faradon. Sweat gathered at the base of her spine. She itched from the prickling of fear, mortification, loss and anger.

  “All of you,” she said, addressing the whole room, “you are looking at the wrong person. I don’t know Rudy Glasgow. I haven’t spoken with him.”

  “You’ve told no one?”

  She glanced at Mick, overcome with sadness. His distrust would not be easy to forgive, and he would be impossible to forget. But she had no choice now. “What we’ve done, Mick...well, it was special to me.” She got choked up and despised herself for the weakness. She wasn’t used to declaring herself in front of a crowd, especially a hostile crowd. And she didn’t delude herself; this crowd was hostile. They’d already condemned her.

  She cleared her throat and made a last stab to reach him. “I would never have discussed our personal situation with anyone, much less the man who shot you.”

  For a long, sizzling moment, Mick stared at her, and she held herself still, hoping he’d smile, that he’d tell her he believed her. That he’d apologize.

  He jerked away, cursing softly. His back to her, Mick ran a rough hand through his hair, and Del found herself stupidly concerned for his injury. She could feel his tension, his anger.

  She ignored everyone else in the room. At the moment, the only one who mattered was Mick. What the others thought could be straightened out later. She said steadily, “If you just think about it, you’ll know I couldn’t have done that. That I wouldn’t have done anything like that. You know me.”

  “Barely,” he said, still not facing her.

  She wavered on her feet. That he could say such a thing after everything they’d done together, after everything she’d felt for him...

  She called herself a fool, even as she begged, “Don’t do this.”

  His gaze cut toward her, accusing. “He said you were counting on our relationship to keep you safe from the law.”

  Mick’s insinuation was clear. He chose to believe a man who’d shot him in the back, rather than her. Del forced herself to straighten. Later, she’d have to decide how to deal with her broken heart.

  Right now, she had to figure out what to do to make the detectives believe her. That had to be her top priority.

  But how? She looked around at them—and saw pity from the lead investigator, interest from Detective Breer and understanding from Detective Darney. Del hated it all, and accepted that they all considered her guilty.

  “Are you arresting me?” She was proud of her steady voice, the strength in her demand.

  Faradon tapped his clipboard against the table. “Not just yet. But I don’t want you to leave town.”

  “Fine.” Del turned to walk out on wobbly legs, but he stopped her.

  “Ms. Piper?”

  She froze.

  “I may have more questions later. I trust you’ll cooperate with me?”

  She turned to face him. “The man wanted to kill me—or so everyone keeps telling me. Now that he’s come up with this outrageous tale meant to incriminate
me personally, I have to believe it was a deliberate act against me. Of course I want him convicted and his cohorts found. I’ll help you any way I can.”

  Looking a little bemused by that heartfelt speech, Faradon murmured dryly, “Thank you.”

  Del pushed the door open and walked out. Her neck hurt, her stomach coiled. Tears burned behind her eyes, and she fought them back.

  She wanted to run, as fast as her legs could carry her. Just as she hadn’t known such wonderful elation existed until she’d met Mick, she hadn’t known anyone had the power to hurt her so badly.

  But she held her dignity intact and walked, head held high, back down the long corridor. She was more than a little aware of Detectives Breer and Darney following behind her.

  When she reached the front desk, Josh and Zack stood there, impatient and worried. Zack reached for her first, pulling her into a warm, tight embrace that was just what she needed, but not who she needed it from.

  “Hey,” he said, squeezing her a bit tighter, “are you okay? You’re shaking.”

  Swallowing back a choking sob, she nodded against his chest and allowed herself the luxury of being held by him for one moment more. Then she pushed away.

  Josh touched her cheek. “Mick didn’t return my page yet.”

  It took two attempts before the words would come out. “No need to page him. He’s here.”

  Josh and Zack frowned, their expressions mirroring each other. The irony struck her, and she almost laughed. Not only would Mick not help her, but... “He was the one,” she said, trying for a note of self-mockery in place of desperation, “who evidently brought the new evidence to the police.”

  Josh didn’t appear convinced. “Honey, are you all right?”

  “No, no I’m not.” Any second now she was going to throw up. Not because of Rudy or the robbery. She was innocent, and sooner or later they’d all realize it.

  No, she was sick at heart, and sick inside, because she loved a man who’d just turned his back on her, and she had no idea how she was going to recover.

  A deep breath, then another, didn’t really help. “Being that you’re Mick’s friends, not really mine, and being that he now thinks I’m a... Well, I’m not sure what he thinks.” She shook her head, understanding now why he’d kept his thoughts so private—because he’d never trusted her. “All I know is that it’s ugly, that everything has changed, and I have no doubt you’ll both back him up as you always do. So—” she fashioned a smile out of her stiff lips and tried not to notice the concern in their eyes, the caring “—I guess this is goodbye. It’s been swell, guys.”

  She hurried out front, with both of them rushing behind her. A taxi rounded the corner onto the adjacent street, and she jogged across the parking lot to hail it, just wanting to escape, to be alone—as she’d accustomed herself to being. She had the cab door open when Josh grabbed her arm.

  “Delilah, wait.”

  She looked up at him—and saw Mick standing in the station doorway. “He can explain,” she said, tears filling her eyes to the point where everything blurred. “Goodbye.”

  Josh had no choice but to release her. She didn’t look back to see them talking. She knew what Mick would tell them, what he believed, and she couldn’t bear to see them turn on her, too. She’d finally gotten comfortable with them, accepted them as a part of her life, a disruptive, unruly, fun part.

  And now it was over.

  She dropped her head forward and covered her face. How? she wondered, wishing she could understand what had happened, how it had all gone so wrong in the blink of an afternoon.

  The man Mick had shot was no longer unconscious. And he’d told Mick something, found some way to convince him that she was involved. Mick had said he knew personal things, intimate things. That had to mean details of their lovemaking.

  Judging by the way Mick had looked at her, he hadn’t told a soul, so he’d assumed that she had done the blabbing. To a criminal. To a man who’d tried to kill her and had shot him.

  And then the shock of it hit her. She felt chilled to the bone, shivering with realization, revulsion.

  The cabby pulled up to her apartment, and Del handed him a twenty, not even thinking about getting change, or how much she’d tipped him. She stumbled to the steps leading to her apartment and stared up at the front door.

  There was only one thing for her to do.

  She had to leave.

  * * *

  Mick hated to admit it, but he was relieved to see that Josh and Zack had followed Delilah to the station. That meant she hadn’t been alone when the detectives took her. He’d regretted sending for her almost immediately, but then he had a lot of regrets, and they all centered around her. He had to stop thinking with his emotions and start using his head instead.

  He turned to Josh as he approached, but wasn’t prepared for the solid pop in the left arm his friend delivered.

  “Ow, goddamn it!” Awkwardly, he rubbed his arm and glared at Josh. “That hurt.”

  “Good.” Josh looked ready to take another swing, this one at Mick’s head. “What the hell did you do to her?”

  “To Delilah?”

  Zack rolled his eyes. “No, to Queen Elizabeth. Of course to Delilah. She came out of here nearly in tears.”

  “Not nearly in tears,” Josh accused, his nostrils flared like a charging bull. “She was crying, damn it.”

  Mick hurt from his hair to his toenails, and not all of it was physical. The idea of Delilah crying only added to his pain, making it more acute when he’d thought he couldn’t hurt any worse. Dully, wishing he could undo the past, or somehow change it, he said, “She’s not who you think she is.”

  Zack went very still, then stiffened. “What did you do?”

  To see his two best friends rallying to her defense added one more bruise to his already battered conscience. He’d wanted them to accept her, and vice versa. But now it hardly mattered.

  In the briefest terms possible, Mick explained the situation. He hated going through it again, hated rehashing all the ways he’d been duped, all the ways she had lied.

  When he finished, Josh popped him again.

  Mick squared off, unwilling to let Josh’s hostility continue. “Will you quit that!”

  Pushing himself between them, Zack said, “Josh has a point.”

  “A point?” Mick stared at him, incredulous. “All he did was hit me!”

  “Because you needed to be hit,” Zack explained, always the cool one, always the peacemaker. “Jesus, man, you don’t know anything about women. I realize you don’t date much—”

  “Look who’s talking.”

  “—but I figured you’d have picked up some things just from being around Josh, if only by osmosis.”

  “I know more than I care to,” Mick grumbled in return. He knew that he was a lousy judge of character, that he’d allowed his gonads to overrule his good sense. That few people could be trusted, but he was too damn stupid to learn that lesson.

  “Not,” Josh said, pressing forward again, “by a long shot.”

  Mick was amazed by Josh’s red-eyed, aggressive attitude, which went well beyond defensive friendship for Delilah. He was acting territorial. Mick closed the space between them in a heartbeat. “What the hell does she mean to you?”

  “More than she does to you, obviously!”

  Again, Zack wedged into the middle, chest to chest with Mick, forcefully moving him a few feet away from Josh. “Quit baiting him, Josh. And Mick, he’s right. Why the hell didn’t you talk to her privately?”

  “I’m a cop,” he reminded them, with an enormous dose of sarcasm and a chip on his shoulder so large his knees almost gave out. “I’m supposed to bring in the criminals.” No sooner did the words leave his mouth than he winced. He sounded just like Rudy.

  Josh s
hook his head and all but shouted, “You’re also in love, you ass.”

  Mick stared at him, and wondered if he could reach him before Zack intervened. Probably not, judging by Zack’s watchful attention. Mick settled for saying, “Go screw yourself.”

  “Oh yeah, that’ll fix things.” Josh threw up his hands. “Do you have any idea how rare a woman like Delilah is?”

  Possessiveness bristled along his nerve endings, despite what had just transpired in the interrogation room. “Not more than a few days ago, you were calling her strange!”

  “Strange, unique, rare.” Josh shrugged. “But that was ten days ago, before I really knew her.”

  “You’re keeping count!”

  “She’s damn special.”

  Zack nodded. “Very special.”

  “Did either of you hear me?” Mick demanded in a shout, so frazzled and confused he knew his hair should be standing on end. “She’s dealing with Rudy. She was in on the whole thing.”

  Zack leveled him with a pitying look. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Neither do I,” Josh added. “If you’d talked to her privately, maybe she could have explained.”

  “She had a chance to explain in there,” Mick roared, stabbing a finger toward the station, “and all she did was deny any connection to him.”

  “Maybe because she has no connection, and maybe because you threw her for one hell of a loop.” Josh squeezed his eyes shut. “God, she looked so hurt, it’s breaking my damn heart, and I’m not the one in love with her.”

  Zack raised a brow over that, but refrained from saying anything.

  “She’s crazy about you, Mick. She trusted you.” Disgust filled Josh’s tone. “And you just tossed her to the wolves.”

  Mick looked away from the accusation in Josh’s eyes. “All I did was have her questioned.”

  “All you did,” Josh said, grabbing him by his shirtfront and shaking him, “is show her that you don’t care two cents for her feelings, that you don’t trust her and that you’ll gladly believe a man capable of murder rather than hear her side of things.”