Once You're Mine

by Barbara Freethy

  "I'll let you know." He walked to the door, then paused. "Call me if you have any problems here."

  "I will, but I'm sure I won't."

  "I hope not. Good-night, Tori."

  "Night," she muttered, closing and locking the door after him.

  As his footsteps went down the hall, she let out a breath, not honestly sure which had shaken her up more: the disturbing note, or that she'd spent the evening with Dylan.

  But she couldn't let herself think that he was doing anything more than watching out for her. She couldn't let her old fantasies come back to life now. Just because he was charming and funny and he'd loved hearing her play the cello didn't mean that they were going to be anything more than friends. And even if he wanted more—he had potential heartbreak written all over him. She might be fearless when it came to getting the truth, but with her heart she was a lot more careful.

  Six

  She was his best friend's sister. She was pushy and annoying. She played the cello, of all things.

  Dylan mentally recounted all the reasons he should not be interested in Tori as he made his usual run through the Presidio toward the Golden Gate Bridge Friday afternoon, but nothing was quite sticking. She'd spent a lot of time in his dreams the night before and that had surprised him.

  He'd never noticed her when they were teenagers, or if he had noticed her, it hadn't been in a good way. She'd usually just been interrupting whatever fun he was having with Scott. Or they'd had to stop whatever they were doing to go pick her up from somewhere. He'd thought of her as an annoying girl, who asked way too many questions and looked at him with intense blue eyes that always made him feel like he wasn't doing enough with his life, which had probably been true at that point.

  After high school graduation, he and Scott had gone to the same college for the first two years, and then Scott had transferred to UCLA. While they'd stayed friends after that, they hadn't been nearly as close as they'd once been, and Tori certainly hadn't been in his life much after that. He vaguely remembered her graduating from high school and going to a family party, but that was pretty much it.

  He hadn't thought about her at all in the last several years. He couldn't even remember Scott talking much about her, maybe the occasional mention of her job or where she was living, but nothing that had lingered in his head.

  Now she was invading his every thought. And she wasn't a shadow of a girl he barely remembered; she was a vibrant, beautiful, smart woman, who still had one thing in common with her younger self—she was a magnet for trouble. If he wasn't careful, he was going to be in that trouble right along with her. In fact, he was probably already there.

  Getting Emma and Max involved had put him right in the middle of the action. But he couldn't take it back, and he knew it had been the right thing to do. Tori had been threatened. However much she wanted to downplay the note, she'd been shaken up by it, and he couldn't blame her. He didn't like the thought of someone following her around the city, finding her car, and leaving a warning. If Tori continued asking questions, and he suspected she would do just that, what would happen next? He didn't want to find out.

  Picking up his pace, he sprinted to the bottom of the Golden Gate Bridge. Once there, he slowed down to a walk, giving himself a minute to enjoy the view of the bay, the sailboats on the water, and the majestic bridge. He loved San Francisco. It was his town—the city he protected every day of his life.

  That thought took him back to Wednesday's hotel fire. It wasn't the first or last suspicious fire he would fight, but because of Tori, it felt more personal. It also bothered him that he hadn't been able to save the man inside, no matter who he was or what he was doing in the building. Getting there a second too late always haunted him.

  Turning his back on the beautiful view, he ran back to his apartment. He needed to shower and get dressed for Scott's wedding rehearsal.

  Once he'd gotten ready, he pulled out his phone and called Tori.

  "Hello," she said, a somewhat breathless note in her voice.

  "It's Dylan. How's it going?"

  "Good."

  "You sound like you've been running."

  "I just got home from work. Do you have any news?"

  "No. I haven't heard from Emma or Max."

  "That's disappointing. I would have thought we'd hear from them before now. I hate waiting for answers."

  He smiled to himself, knowing patience was not her strong suit—or his. "I'm not a big fan of waiting, either. But I'm sure they'll call when they know something. How are you getting to the rehearsal?"

  "Driving."

  "Why don't I pick you up?"

  "I can drive to the church and my mother's house on my own, Dylan."

  "I know you can, but why not go together?"

  She hesitated, then said, "All right. But I need to leave here in about fifteen minutes."

  "I'll head over there now."

  "Text me when you get here, and I'll come down."

  "See you soon."

  He ended the call, grabbed his keys and left his apartment. There was a fair amount of traffic on the way to Tori's house, so it took him about twenty minutes to get there. She came down as soon as he texted, giving him a look of irritation as she got into the car.

  "Now who's late?" she muttered.

  "Friday afternoon traffic," he said. "We'll still get to the church on time, and it's not like we're the key players."

  "You're somewhat important. You are the best man."

  "I don't think it's going to take much practice to stand next to Scott and hand him the ring when requested."

  "Me, either. I don't know why anyone has to rehearse, but apparently it's a tradition."

  As she crossed her legs, he couldn't help but appreciate the beautiful silky skin of her bare legs under a floral dress. She looked pretty, and she smelled like a garden. All of his senses were on high alert, and he had to force himself to focus on the road and not on her.

  "Have you talked to Scott today?" he asked. "I left him a message earlier asking him if he needed anything, but he didn't get back to me."

  "I spoke to him this morning. He's stressed. Not just with the wedding; he has some project to finish before he leaves tomorrow on his honeymoon."

  "Scott never likes to leave loose ends."

  "No, he doesn't. Nor does he like to delegate and lose any kind of control. I think he was always like that, but it got worse after my dad died. He didn't want any more surprises—good or bad."

  "Is that the way you felt, too?" he asked curiously. "Like you needed to control everything?"

  "Not in the same way Scott did. I was more about wanting to right wrongs, fight injustice, which a shrink would probably say had something to do with how unfair it was for me to lose my dad at such a young age."

  "That would make sense."

  "Scott and I were both impacted by the tragedy in a big way, but I know I can't use it to blame all my bad faults on," she said, giving him a small smile.

  He found himself smiling back, liking the way she thought, and how candid and self-aware she was. "Most people would use it."

  "Well, I'm not most people."

  He certainly couldn't argue with that. Their conversation was interrupted by the ring of his phone, which was lying on the console. He pressed the speaker to answer. "Emma?"

  "Hi, Dylan."

  "Do you have some information? I'm in the car with Tori."

  "Great. I'm glad I can talk to both of you at once," she replied. "Hi, Tori."

  "Hi, Emma," Tori said. "Do you know who put the note on my car?"

  "No, unfortunately, Max hasn't been able to locate any security cameras with footage of that area. I'm sorry. But I do have some other news."

  "What is it?" he asked, his nerves tightening.

  "I was in Gary's office when he got a call from the coroner's office. They ID'd the victim of the fire. It wasn't Neil Hawkins."

  "What?" he asked in surprise, glancing over at Tori and seeing the same shocked l
ook in her eyes. "Are you sure?"

  "Yes. The man's name is Robert Walker. He's a forty-three-year-old resident of Oakland. He has a long record of assault, burglary, and other miscellaneous offenses. He's basically been in and out of jail most of his life."

  "What about arson?"

  "He was never charged with that, but it's possible he's done it before. Or it's possible he wasn't the fire starter. Gary spoke to his sister, and she said he's been out of touch with the family for years, that he was bad news, and she didn't know what he was up to or why he would have been in that building." Emma cleared her throat. "But that's not even the most interesting part of this story."

  "Go on," he said impatiently.

  "Robert Walker did not die from smoke inhalation or burns; he was shot in the chest."

  Dylan's pulse leapt. He pulled off to the side of the road, feeling like this conversation needed his full attention. "Are you sure?"

  "Yes, Max just confirmed it for me. Walker was shot from a few feet away. The police are now investigating his death as a homicide. It's possible the fire was set to cover up the murder."

  "I heard a big bang," Tori muttered. "Right before the second explosion. So the man I followed into the building…Neil Hawkins. Was he the shooter?"

  Dylan didn't like that idea. To think that Tori had been following a man with a gun, a man willing to commit murder…and apparently that man was still free...

  "Max is looking into Neil Hawkins as a person of interest," Emma replied. "Is it possible this man knew you were following him, Tori? Could he have put the note on your car?"

  "I guess he could have. I've been thinking he was dead this whole time."

  "You need to be careful," Emma said. "And look, guys, Gary wasn't thrilled with me getting into the middle of his investigation, so I don't know how much more I can do for you. He's very territorial, and he has a chip on his shoulder, because he thinks I get benefits from my Callaway name."

  "I understand," he said. He'd had similar problems over the course of his career.

  "But I'll still keep my ears open and let you know if I hear anything. And, of course, Max will be in the know, so if there's any information I can give you, I certainly will."

  "Thanks, Emma," he said. "We'll talk soon." He looked over at Tori. She'd paled in the past few minutes.

  "I can't believe the man I saw wasn't the victim," she said, giving him a confused look.

  "He must have run out the back door. That's where I found his ID."

  "So who started the fire? Walker or Hawkins?"

  "Hell if I know, but Robert Walker didn't shoot himself, so it's likely Neil Hawkins was the shooter."

  "Unless there were other people in the building. We don't really know who was upstairs or how many people got out," she said.

  "No, but I'm guessing there weren't more than a couple of people at the most." He glanced over his shoulder and pulled back into traffic. He wanted to do nothing more than hash everything out with Tori, but they had a rehearsal to get to. "I wonder if the warning note on your car did come from Hawkins," he said.

  "But Brady's was miles away from the scene, and that guy didn't even look like he had a car. He really seemed like someone who lived on the streets."

  "Or that's what he wanted to seem like. You said the guy was watching you. Maybe he was watching you for longer than you thought. He might have known where you lived."

  "That would explain the weird sensation I had when I left my apartment. But why? I'm just at the beginning of my news story. I've asked some pointed questions, but no one has reacted in any kind of extreme way. I just don't know what I could have done to worry someone so much that they would follow me around."

  "That's what we have to figure out."

  "We? I don't want to put you in danger, Dylan."

  "I can take care of myself."

  "Well, you don't have to take care of me, too. I can handle this."

  Maybe she could, but he wasn't going to just walk away. "Two heads are better than one. Let's work the problem together and see where we end up."

  "I suppose," she said slowly.

  "We need to find Neil Hawkins."

  "Yes," she agreed. "He's the key to this. If he's not dead, then he can be found. I need to see him. I need to look into his face."

  "So you can see if he still resembles your father?" he asked, meeting her gaze. "You've told me that you have doubts about that now, but it still lingers in your head, doesn't it?"

  "It does," she admitted. "It's probably because I never saw my dad after he died. One minute he was in my life, and then he was gone."

  "It was a boating accident, wasn't it?"

  "Yes. He was deep-sea fishing in the Caribbean with Mitch and Jim—his two best friends. It was one of their favorite things to do. They ran into a big storm. Their boat was crushed with waves of water. Somehow my dad got trapped down below, and he drowned before they could get him out. After all the dangerous things he'd done in his life—he'd covered wars and interviewed gang members—he dies on a weekend with his friends. My mom used to tell us we should be happy that he died doing something he loved. But I just kept thinking he shouldn't have died at all. They should have checked the weather. They should have been better prepared." She sighed. "But, of course, none of that happened, and he was gone."

  "I can't imagine what you went through, Tori." His thoughts moved back in time. "I remember being at the funeral, feeling terrible for your family, especially you and Scott. I certainly saw how difficult it was for Scott to keep going. He was like a stone statue for months, but then he started to get better. Life felt like it went back to normal."

  "It did for everyone else. You can't know how it feels unless you live it, and I'm glad you've never had to live it, because it's awful."

  "I feel bad now that I didn't offer more support."

  "You were a teenage boy, and I know Scott didn't like to talk about it."

  "He didn't say much," he agreed.

  "This weekend is going to be difficult for my brother. There are events in our lives where we both really miss our father, and I think this wedding will make us feel his absence even more."

  "I wish things were different, Tori."

  "So do I. Unfortunately, wishing doesn't get you anywhere." She smiled. "That's actually something my dad used to say. He always told me to put my dreams into action if I wanted to see them come true."

  He was beginning to realize where some of Tori's determined drive came from. He turned in to the church parking lot where the rehearsal would be held and saw some friends getting out of their cars. "Looks like we're not the last ones here."

  "Thank goodness. My mom hates when I'm late." She paused. "Don't say anything about any of this, okay, Dylan? As soon as we get out of this car, it's all about the wedding. I don't want to take anyone's attention away from Scott and Monica. This is their weekend."

  "I won't say a word."

  * * *

  Tori sat at the back of the church, watching her brother and Monica and their wedding party rehearse the ceremony.

  Scott and Monica were certainly an attractive couple. Scott had brown hair and light-brown eyes like their mother. He was extremely fit, working out every day. He was very disciplined about everything in his life, and he was always dressed impeccably well.

  Monica was a good match for him with her cool blonde looks and slim figure. She was also into healthy pursuits—Yoga, Pilates, meditation—and she kept busy with her work at a non-profit foundation. She was a bit reserved, but then Scott could be quiet, too.

  She wondered if they'd have children. She thought so, hoped so…it would be fun to have nieces and nephews.

  Watching her brother hold Monica's hands and smile down at her with love and tenderness throughout their faux wedding ceremony made her heart swell with happiness. While Dylan might not have witnessed the true depth of her brother's despair after losing their father, she'd had a front row seat. Scott had tried to keep her away from his bad mome
nts, disappearing into his room for hours at a time, but she hadn't been fooled, and now seeing his renewed joy in life, she thought he was definitely starting a new chapter.

  As her gaze moved away from her brother and Monica, it landed on Dylan. Dylan had cleaned up nicely for this rehearsal, wearing black slacks and a light-blue dress shirt that reflected the color of his eyes. His face was cleanly shaven, his brown hair styled. Dylan had always had a rougher edge and a bigger personality than Scott, but they were both good guys.

  It was impressive that they'd stayed friends all these years. She hadn't kept in touch with any of her high school friends, and most of her college friends were back East since she'd gone to school at NYU.

  But not only did Scott have Dylan in his group of ushers, he had also asked Paul Hastings, another high school friend, and David Connors, who had been his college roommate for two years, to be in the wedding party. They were a good-looking group, and she saw some of the bridesmaids eying their matching usher with some interest, including Monica's maid of honor, Ava, who was now walking down the aisle with Dylan. She was quite animated and laughing at whatever Dylan was saying.

  Dylan wasn't that funny, she thought with a frown. But it wasn't unusual to see a woman flirting with him the way Ava was. Tori had spent most of middle school and high school watching girls flirt with Scott and Dylan.

  She wondered again why Dylan was still single. Why hadn't one of the no doubt hundreds of women he'd gone out with stuck? And what had gone down between him and Jenny—something so bad he didn't want to talk about it? Scott had never mentioned anything, but then Scott and Dylan seemed very capable of keeping each other's confidence. She'd have to find out on her own. Not that she should care at all. In fact, she had a lot more important things to focus on.

  As the party made their way down the aisle, she got up from her seat and followed them outside. Her mother was just finishing up a conversation with Monica's mother and thankfully no one seemed to be upset. When Monica's mother walked away, she went over to join her mom. "So far so good," she said.

  Her mother smiled. "Yes. I can't believe the day is almost here. It seems like yesterday Scott was just my very small boy."