Hot SEAL, Midnight Magic (SEALs In Paradise)

by Teresa J. Reasor

  “Otherwise I will move my business to another bank, and will encourage my entire family to do the same. Trust me, you don’t want Camille Blanchard on your ass about this.”

  Oliver’s breathing was audible, even over the phone. “I’ll take care of this right now, Ms. Blanchard. You’ll be getting a call from Mr. Clarkson by end of business today.” The nervous tremor in his voice gave her some satisfaction.

  “Mr. Oliver, if you still have a job after this, you’d be wise to stay away from Abney.” She hung up and dialed her mother next while her emotions were still high.

  Camille answered after just two rings. “I’ll have to write this on my calendar. My daughter has called me.”

  Mia didn’t beat around the bush. “Will Abney just left here. He came to try and intimidate me into selling him my stock in B and B, and he threatened to talk to the board at the bank about my loan and get it rescinded.”

  “What did you say to him?”

  “I told him my whole family has accounts and other business with the bank, and that all of it can be transferred somewhere else.”

  “Good. I’ll talk to Mason about this. Abney has become an issue lately.”

  So Ming had said something to her. And she was taking it seriously.

  Camille continued. “Why don’t you let me take care of the bank situation? I have a personal relationship with the president of the bank. What’s the name of the loan officer?”

  Like she’d trust her mother to handle any of this for her. The risk of sabotage was too great. “I’ve already spoken to the loan officer and am waiting for a call back from the president.”

  Camille sighed. “After Ming told me about Will…I understood why you were upset.”

  No, she didn’t. She never would.

  “If you hadn’t found out about him, you’d have been completely fine with me dating him, because he has money. What does that say about your expectations, Camille?”

  Silence whipped across the distance between them. Mia rubbed her temple where a headache was beginning to take up residence. “I know what you and Mason did six years ago, Camille. Please leave Gage alone so he can visit his grandmother and take care of her while he’s here. He’s leaving in three weeks to go back to San Diego, so you have no reason to keep harassing him.” Tears ran down her cheeks.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Liar. Mia drew a deep weary breath. “Ask Mason. He’s the one who does your dirty work.” She hung up.

  She folded her arms on the table, rested her forehead on them, and closed her eyes.

  She wished Gage was here right now, just to hold her. It had been so long since she had anyone she could lean on. And she didn’t really have him. He’d go back to his life across country, and he might call now and then, but…

  She couldn’t think about that on top of everything else.

  She picked up her phone again and punched Jules’s number. “I need to discuss something with you.”

  “I’m neck deep into something right now.”

  “When you have time, it’s about Will Abney.”

  “Abney.” His tone sharpened. “What is it that you know about him?”

  “You may want to look into a man who was his business partner, named Anthony Webster. Abney was molesting Webster’s sixteen-year-old daughter, and she committed suicide a year later. And the father was killed in a mugging a few months after that.”

  “Jesus, cher!”

  “I believe the father found out about what Abney was doing and confronted him after the girl’s death. I believe Abney had him killed.”

  “How can you be sure? Did you witness it? Or did he make a statement to you?”

  That bone-deep chill she’d experienced. Cold as death. “No, nothing like that.” Why hadn’t anything come through clearly? She was getting tired of repeating the same information, and condensed it as much as possible. “When I countered his attempt at intimidation with Angelique’s name, he went white and tried to grab me. Lottie witnessed it and made up an excuse to get me away from the table, so he left.”

  “Jesus, Mia. You really know how to stir things up. When you have a predator stalking you, you don’t bare your throat and invite him to bite.”

  So, Jules already thought Abney was dangerous. “Hey, I was just working. I can’t help it if assholes abound.”

  Jules laughed. “That they do. Be careful, cher. I’ll get back to you after I’ve dealt with a few of those assholes right now. You available later?”

  “I’ll be here at work.”

  “Jusqu’á plus tard.”

  Later couldn’t come quickly enough.

  Calmer after talking to Jules, but still feeling a little off balance, she printed a picture off the net and walked out on the floor. Jessica wasn’t there, but Stan was at the counter closing a sale.

  “Did Jess go to lunch?” she asked when he was finished.

  “Yeah, she just left. But she has that doctor’s appointment after lunch.”

  “I forgot. I’ll talk to her when she comes in in the morning.”

  “Problem?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I want you to be on the lookout for these men, and have security follow them if they’re spotted in the store…”

  CHAPTER 14

  ‡

  Mama Bet’s face remained badly bruised, but the swelling had abated, and her features had returned to their normal structure. Her eyes looked sunken in a face ravaged by the beating, followed by a week without solid food. For the first time, she looked every day of her sixty-seven years.

  After a brief visit earlier in the morning, when they saw how weak Mama was, the detectives had postponed the questioning until later in the day.

  Mama seemed stronger after having the first solid food in days. If one could call Jell-O, soup, and applesauce solid food.

  The female detective, Detective Olivette, had a brisk, all-business way about her that Gage appreciated, while her partner Detective Romero had the charm. His grandmother was currently eating it up, and she actually smiled twice. But her eyes kept straying to Gage, as though for reassurance. He kept her hand in his, giving her what support he could.

  “Can you describe what happened step-by-step, little Mama? Whatever you can remember,” Romero urged, his warm brown eyes focused on her face as though she was the only one in the room. He patted her arm gently. “Just take your time.”

  Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “Dark as pitch, but I saw a tall shadow.” She raised her hand to demonstrate the word “tall.” “He jumped on me. Hands around my throat.” She motioned to her neck, where the darkest bruises colored her skin like ink. “Gloves and a knitted mask. Saw white spots. Couldn’t breathe.”

  She sucked in an audible breath. “Then I crushed his balls until he screamed.” There was a touch of satisfaction in her tone.

  Gage gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

  “He went crazy and started punching me.” She didn’t shake her head so much as rock it back and forth, like the muscles were stiff.

  “Did you smell anything?” Romero asked.

  She fell silent for several seconds. “Whiskey. Sweat.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Oil.”

  “What kind of oil?”

  “Motor oil.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek. “He cried.” A single tear ran down her cheek. She’d begun to flag.

  Rage brought a flash of heat to the back of Gage’s neck. He exchanged a glance with Romero and reached for a tissue to brush the tear away. He kissed Mama’s hand. “You did really good, Mama. I think you need to rest now.”

  Romero rose from his seat next to the bed. “I’m going to leave you my card, and if you think of anything else at all, you call me…any time. Okay?” He patted her hand.

  “Okay.”

  “I’m just going to have a word with the detectives, Mama. I’ll be just outside.”

  She waved him on, probably too exhausted to speak.

  Once outsi
de in the hall, he faced both detectives. “I’m staying with a friend until Mama comes home from the hospital, but I’ve put in an alarm system at her house. If you need to reach me, you can use my cell or call this number.” He gave Romero Mia’s number.

  “How long will you be here before you return to San Diego?” Detective Olivette asked.

  “Three more weeks. I’m on emergency leave, but four weeks is all I could get.”

  “We can’t make any promises, but we’ll keep working it,” she said. “We need to get this sadistic son-of-a-bitch before he kills someone.”

  “Appreciate it.” He shook both their hands.

  He leaned back against the wall just outside the door. It was hard seeing Mama struggle when she’d been so active and strong before.

  The guy cried afterward?

  Remorse after trying to kill a defenseless woman for a few pills and a little cash. Jesus! A sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want to lend credence to it.

  He returned to the room and swung around the end of her bed to return to his seat.

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Mia?” she asked.

  “She’s good. She’ll probably be here to see you later.”

  “I need to sleep. Go be with her. You only have three more weeks.”

  There’d never been anything wrong with Mama’s hearing. “I don’t know what to do, Mama. She has her business and life here, and I have my team in San Diego.”

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  He wasn’t so certain.

  “Go on.” She raised a trembling hand to brush his hair back from his forehead.

  “She’ll still be working.”

  “Maybe it’s time you both did something more than work.”

  There was an idea. All they’d been able to do since he arrived, other than last night’s lovemaking, was deal with problems.

  *

  As he climbed the metal stairs to Mia’s apartment, Gage juggled the bag of groceries in one arm and carried the wine in the other. He set the two paper-wrapped bottles on the landing just outside the door and unlocked Mia’s apartment door with his free hand.

  She’d talked about cooking, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t set up something tonight so she could cook another night.

  He slid the wine into the wine fridge, then stowed the potato salad, fried chicken, deviled eggs, and romaine salad in the regular fridge. He’d also gotten flowers and swung by the Palace Café on Canal Street to get a chocolate souffle, which used to be Mia’s favorite sweet other than beignets.

  He also went by Mama’s in search of a blanket, a basket, and some of the cheap plastic plates she kept for backyard barbecues. Those were waiting in the trunk of the car. He’d need to pack the food in it when Mia got through with work. He planned to take her to their favorite spot, where they could take a walk down memory lane.

  He turned at the sound of elevator climbing, just in time to see Mia step out. She looked tired, stressed. She dropped her purse on the kitchen counter and plastered herself against him. When his arms closed around her, she sighed.

  Gage breathed in the scent of her shampoo, a blend of vanilla and something else. “Long day?”

  “Yeah.”

  What happened? “Want to talk about it?”

  “Maybe in a little while. I want a glass of wine and a change of clothes first.” She took a step away.

  He released her reluctantly. “I thought we’d drive out to the West Bank and find a place for a picnic.”

  “Oh, God, that’s perfect. The property is still there, and it’s still vacant.”

  How did she know that? He’d just swung by it an hour or so ago to make certain nothing had been built on it. But fall wildflowers were blooming and the grass had been mowed, so someone was taking care of it.

  “I’ll change.”

  She’d just left the room when someone rang the outdoor entrance buzzer. Gage answered the door to find Jules waiting on the platform, and Gage stepped back to allow him to enter.

  “Mia called me today about an issue.”

  “She’s changing.” If she called Jules, it must be something serious. Why hadn’t she called him too? His shoulders tensed with irritation.

  He was right here to help in any way he could.

  But he hadn’t been for years. And he wouldn’t be for long. Three weeks wasn’t long enough to regain her trust, even now they’d made love.

  “You two going out somewhere tonight?” Jules asked.

  “Yeah. For a picnic.”

  “Mosquitoes the size of pigeons and gators are not my idea of a good time.”

  Gage laughed. “We’re going to the West Bank, not the Bayou. And there’s a new discovery, Jules…bug spray.” He’d bought some. “And I know how to handle gators. My brother and I used to hunt them and sell the meat.”

  Jules waved a hand in a dismissive, Gallic gesture.

  Mia emerged from the hallway. “Hey,” she greeted Jules.

  “Ça va?” Jules asked.

  ‘I’m okay.” Her gaze shifted to Gage.

  “You want me to make myself scarce?” he asked, a small niggling of resentment rising, though he kept his tone even.

  “No. I’d like you to stay. Also, I need that glass of wine. Will you pour it for me?” The tightness around her eyes and mouth nipped his sour feelings in the bud. There was something major going on here. “Red or white?”

  “Red, please.”

  “Jules, you want something?” he asked.

  “No.”

  Gage retrieved the wine he bought from the fridge, uncorked it, poured half a glass, then carried it to the sofa, where he took a seat next to Mia and handed it to her. She leaned back against the sofa, took a healthy sip, and held it in her mouth before swallowing. “That’s good.”

  Jules leaned forward in his seat. “The Webster girl’s death was a suicide, but there were signs of sexual trauma.”

  Whoa! What the hell is going on?

  “I’m not surprised.” The flat way Mia said it made him wonder what the hell they were talking about, and whether she was about to tell Jules about her gift.

  Jules’s focus on her turned to all cop. “How do you know that, Mia? You sounded positive about it when we talked earlier. The coroner only told the father when he requested a DNA swab to rule the father out as the abuser. All of this was kept very hush-hush, and they were never able to pinpoint who the abuser might be.”

  Mia remained silent a moment. “I recently had dinner at my mother’s house and was seated next to a man named Will Abney. I know men don’t have to worry about sexual predators as much as women. Though you both deal with other types.”

  Mia arrested her hand on Gage’s thigh. “Most women have a sixth sense about certain types of men. They’re pushy, won’t take no for an answer, make suggestive comments, touch you when you don’t want them to. Look at you like they’re seeing you naked. Abney made a point of doing most of those. All but the latter…probably because he was sitting at the dinner table with my mother and brother, and my mother was watching every move he made.

  “He asked me out in a way that made it seem like it was a done deal, but I told him I was already seeing someone. He didn’t want to accept that, and when I suggested he might be more comfortable with my mother, he said he preferred younger women. My reaction to him was so strong…I made an excuse, a headache, and left before dinner was over.

  “Later I asked Ming, my mother’s assistant, to check into him. He brought up his connection to Anthony Webster and his daughter Angelique and her suicide. And Webster’s mugging.

  “I called Ming back this afternoon after lunch. He’s discovered several sexual harassment complaints lodged against Abney. Two in Chicago, and two in Mississippi. Each plaintiff received a large settlement in return for signing a nondisclosure agreement. One of the suits was on behalf of a girl of sixteen.”

  She leaned forward. “Abney ran a business with Webster. They were partners. He’s a sexu
al predator, going in and out of the Webster household… And you have Angelique, a vulnerable young girl. There’s a high probability that Abney was involved. And then a month after Angelique died, Webster was mugged and killed. It just seems like more than a coincidence to me.”

  She looked up at Jules. “Was anyone ever arrested in either case?”

  “No. Webster’s death is still an open homicide investigation. And since the girl committed suicide and didn’t leave a note…the investigation began and ended with the dad’s DNA swab.”

  “Since the dad’s death is still an open homicide, it wouldn’t hurt to go back and review everything. If Webster found out what Abney did…and confronted him, threatened legal action…”

  “It isn’t my case, Mia. I can’t step on my colleagues’ toes by trying to take over.”

  “I’ve asked Ming to email you everything he discovered. You could pass it on to the detective who’s in charge. Surely he can try to get a DNA sample and compare it with what they have. Then charges could be brought against Abney.”

  “What exactly did you say to Abney that set him off?” Jules asked.

  “I told him I wasn’t afraid of him because I wasn’t a sixteen-year-old child like Angelique. He lunged to grab my arm, and the look on his face…” She shivered.

  Gage rested a soothing arm around her shoulders.

  Jules leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his hands. “Mia…” He finally looked up. “If what you think is true, you just painted a bullseye on your back.”

  “I know. I didn’t realize that until later. But it’s hard to think clearly when you’re being threatened, so you just react.”

  What she said was true. When survival was at stake, you fought back with whatever resources you had at hand.

  Jules sighed and looked away. “Everyone at work knows about our friendship, which means I can’t push for them to make this a priority. It would come across as favoritism.”