“Whaddya think? You guys can’t stop even when your attorney tells you to lie low.”
Jimmy lunged at him, and Connor dropped the camera on top of his bag and raised his hands. “You wanna go there?”
“You’re playing with fire, Wells.” Jimmy leveled a finger at him. “Your old man doesn’t rule this town anymore, and he did a crap job when he did.”
Connor’s eye twitched behind his sunglasses. “Aren’t you kinda old to be playing beach bully, Jimmy?”
“Never too old to protect your own. Besides, you’re not a cop anymore, so stop trying to recapture your glory days.” Jimmy guffawed as he scooped up his board and waded back into the water.
Connor crouched and stashed the camera in his bag. Then he hitched it over his shoulder and scuffed his bare feet through the dry sand to the line of cars on the road above the beach.
He slid behind the wheel of his truck and tossed the bag on the seat next to him. Gripping the steering wheel, he let out a breath. If he could help break the stranglehold the Cove Boys had over the best surfing spot in San Juan Beach, it might go a little way toward restoring the town’s former luster.
It seemed a million years ago since his father patrolled this small beach community as its police chief and the residents could trust each other and trust authority. Then the drugs moved in and all that ended—along with his father’s life.
Connor swallowed the bitterness that flooded his mouth and took a swig of the warm water from the bottle in his cup holder. He’d leave this place, as others had, if it weren’t for the land and his father’s dream. Didn’t he owe that to him?
Someone rapped on his window and he jumped. He peered through the glass at the couple from the beach and powered down his window.
The guy stuck his hand into the open space. “Thanks, man.”
“For what?” Connor jerked his thumb toward the beach. “They’re still out there intimidating people.”
“Yeah, but if that lawsuit prevails and those idiots are slapped with an injunction, they’re going to think twice about their localism—and your video footage should help.”
The woman held out a business card. “If the attorney needs witnesses, give me a call. We’d be happy to help.”
“Thanks.” Connor plucked the card from between the woman’s fingers. “I’ll give this to the lawyer filing the lawsuit.”
With a wave of his hand, Connor cranked on his engine and pulled away from the gravelly shoulder, spitting dust and sand in his wake. After a few miles, he made a turn to the east, away from the coast and the town of San Juan Beach.
The narrow, two-lane road wound into the low-lying hills and the early-fall temperature rose several degrees as he escaped the sea breeze. The hotter the better. His grapevines needed the warmth.
On the way to the house, Connor pulled over and jumped out of the truck. He cupped a bunch of grapes in his palm and sniffed—the sweet had started to overpower the tart—right on time, even though this crop wouldn’t be the harvest for the wine. He had to wait another year for that.
Good thing he was a patient man.
As he made the last turn, he hunched over the steering wheel and squinted at the white car in his driveway. Someone had ignored the no-solicitors sign posted at the entrance to his property—probably another one of those Realtors. That shiny cream-white Lexus looked exactly like a Realtor’s car.
His jaw hardened, and he threw the truck into Park. He pushed out of his vehicle at the same time a woman emerged from the Lexus.
As she floated toward him, her hands held out, Connor blinked. Her perfume wafted toward him and enveloped him in her spell. When she reached him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his shoulder, her chestnut hair lifting in the breeze, his capture complete.
Her warm breath caressed the side of his neck as she whispered in a husky tone, “I’m in trouble, Connor. And I need an alibi.”
Chapter Two
Connor’s body, still hard and strong, stiffened. She knew he wouldn’t be putty in her hands, but she’d hoped she wouldn’t have to bring out the big guns.
He stepped back, and she unwound her arms from around his waist. She didn’t want to be clingy.
Narrowing his blue eyes, he folded his arms across his unyielding chest. “What now?”
She gazed over his shoulder at the empty road bordered by grapevines and pasted a smile on her face. “The vineyard looks good. I can’t wait for the first bottle.”
He snorted, “Are you really trying to butter me up? You should know better.”
“I need to ease into this.” She squeezed his rock-solid biceps. “Can we talk inside?”
“Hang on.”
He turned back toward his truck, opened the door and ducked inside, giving her a spectacular view of his backside in his board shorts. From the look and feel of Connor’s muscles, she wouldn’t be surprised if he worked this vineyard single-handedly, but he must still be spending time at the beach, given his sandy bare feet and the burnished-gold sheen on his brown hair.
He walked toward her, a black bag slung over his shoulder. As he passed her, he nodded toward the house. “Follow me.”
“Hardly the red carpet I was expecting after all this time.”
“Maybe it’s more than you deserve after all this time.”
She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. She definitely needed the big guns this time around.
As she walked into the house she expelled a soft sigh. “You redecorated.”
“This is my house now, not my parents’. What’s wrong? You don’t like it?”
She ran a hand along the back of the cream-colored leather sofa, which had replaced an overstuffed floral one that had been littered with his mother’s handmade pillows. “It’s an improvement.”
He placed the bag on a granite island that separated the kitchen from the living room, where a wall once stood that had supported a shelf showing off Connor’s surfing trophies.
“Do you want something to drink? No wine...yet.”
“As much as I could use some alcohol right now, it’s still morning and I need my wits about me...all my wits.” Or at least the ones she still possessed after last night’s blackout.
“I have water, orange juice and iced tea from a bottle.”
“Tea, please.” She perched on the edge of the sofa, the soft leather almost sighing beneath her weight, and wedged her purse next to her feet.
When Connor exited the kitchen holding two glasses, the ice clinking with each of his steps, she patted the cushion next to her.
He handed her the glass, tossed a coaster onto the coffee table hand carved from a log and took the chair across from her.
Looked like he wanted to keep his wits about him, too. The two of them had always shared a magnetic attraction to each other, but maybe he’d been able to shut down that magnet after their last contact a few years ago.
“Tell me what’s going on.” He took a long gulp of tea. “Is it that husband of yours?”
“Ex-husband.”
“Right. You’re still fighting with him about that multimillion-dollar company?”
“It’s much worse than that, Connor.”
“Just spill it, Savannah.”
“Niles is dead...murdered.”
Connor’s eyebrows shot up to that lock of brown hair that curled over one eye. “Murdered? Wouldn’t that be all over the news? I know I’m kind of a recluse these days, but I do have a TV—cable and everything.” He jabbed a finger at the huge flat screen that claimed the space above his fireplace.
“It’s... He’s... I don’t think he’s been discovered yet.”
Connor jumped from the chair, and the tea splashed over the side of the glass clutched in his hand. “What are you telling me?”
“I found him. At his house. Dead.”
“And you didn’t call 911?”
“Of course not.”
“Of course not?” He threw his arm out to the side. “No, why would anyone call the police upon discovering a dead body, especially the dead body of your ex?”
“Exactly.” She took a small sip of tea and avoided his wild-eyed stare.
He stopped pacing and landed in front of the couch, looming over her with iced tea dripping from his hand onto the polished hardwood floor. “What the hell happened to him, Savannah? Why didn’t you call the police?”
She shook her glass to rattle the ice. “He was stabbed to death, and I didn’t call because the police would’ve arrested me.”
“Why?”
“Because I woke up in his house, in his bed, and I don’t remember how I got there.” She closed her eyes and held her breath.
The shocked stillness reverberating off Connor in waves made her more nervous than the agitated pacing. She peeled open one eye and swallowed.
A muscle throbbed at the corner of his mouth, and the fingers curling around the sweating glass sported white knuckles. His blue eyes had darkened to the color of a stormy sea.
Then he blinked, drained the tea in one gulp, wiped his palm on the leg of his board shorts and set the glass on the coffee table. “You’d better start from the beginning.”
Warm relief flooded her body and she almost collapsed against the sofa cushions. This was the Connor she’d hoped to see—in control and even-keeled. He hadn’t agreed to anything yet, but he hadn’t thrown her out on her derriere, either.
Sitting up, she squared her shoulders. “Niles and I met for a drink last night to discuss some business. I had come across something in the books and wanted to see some files.”
“Why didn’t he just send over the file? Why the meeting, the drink?”
She studied his square jaw, clenched in disapproval. Did she detect jealousy in that question?
“Niles had been wanting to discuss other aspects of the business with me for weeks and figured this was his opportunity to have me at his mercy.” She cleared her throat. “I really wanted those files, so I agreed.”
“How did the meeting go?”
She ran her fingers through her hair, avoiding the sore spot on the back of her head. “Like all our meetings. We ended up in an argument.”
His eyes flickered, but he took a seat on the edge of the coffee table and she eked out a little sigh because he was no longer looming over her.
“Did anyone at the bar notice you arguing?”
“I’m sure a few people did. We exchanged sharp words and may have got a little loud, but there was no knock-down-drag-out.”
He rubbed his knuckles across his clean-shaven chin. He’d shaved off the beard since the last time she’d seen him. Bearded or not, the man still pushed all the right buttons in all the right places.
She licked her lips, and his gaze bounced to her mouth and then back to her eyes.
“What happened next? How’d you end up at his house? That house in La Jolla, right?”
“Yeah, that one.” She caught a drop of moisture on the outside of the glass with her finger and touched it to her temple. “Niles had left the file I wanted at the house. I had to go with him to retrieve them.”
“Go with him? You didn’t drive your own car?” He tipped his head at the window, toward the Lexus in his driveway.
“I walked to the bar. It was close to my house and you know I don’t like to drive after even one drink.”
“Is that what you had? One drink?”
“Two.” She held up two fingers in a peace sign and then brought the fingers together. “Scout’s honor.”
Unless she’d downed whatever was in that crystal tumbler at the house.
“I’m not checking on you, Savannah. I believe you. What I’m trying to get at is if you were drunk when you left the bar with him.”
“Absolutely not. I don’t get drunk...anymore.”
“So why’d you black out? Do you remember going to his house? Driving in the car with him?”
“I do remember getting into his car. I remember more arguing on the way to the house, arriving at the house and then...” She shrugged. “Nothing after that. I don’t remember what we did at the house. I don’t know how I lost my clothes and ended up in his bed. And I sure as hell don’t know how he wound up dead.”
“And you didn’t...”
“What?” She jerked her head in his direction.
He swiped a hand across his mouth as if to keep the words from tumbling out. “You’re telling me that someone broke into Niles’s house, murdered him in a violent manner and you were allowed to sleep peacefully through it all. Why weren’t you killed along with Niles?”
“That, I can’t tell you.” She skewered him with a gaze. “You almost sound disappointed.”
Connor pushed up from the coffee table and stalked to the kitchen. “Don’t play the poor-me card. I know you too well.”
He thought he did, but she’d kept secrets from him before.
He buried his head in the fridge and popped up with a bottle of beer in his hand. “I’m not offering. Someone needs a clear head here, but it’s not gonna be me.”
“Beer for breakfast?” She held up her hands to deflect his scowl. “Never mind. And I already told you, I have no idea why the killer left me undisturbed...almost undisturbed.”
“Almost?” He took a swig of beer and hunched over the kitchen island.
She jabbed her index finger into her chest. “I did not voluntarily take off my clothes for Niles, and I did not crawl into his bed.”
“The murderer took the time to strip you naked and place you in Niles’s bed? Where was Niles’s body?”
“On the floor next to the bed.”
“Next to you?”
“On the floor.”
He snapped his fingers. “Did you check the security cameras? A place like that, a guy like that—he had to have video surveillance.”
“All disabled.”
He scratched his chin in an absentminded manner. He must’ve just lost the beard and missed it, although why Connor’s facial hair occupied her thoughts at this crucial moment was a mystery. She squeezed her thighs together and huffed out a breath. No, it wasn’t, no mystery.
“Murder weapon?”
“Gone.”
“Blood?”
“All over Niles and the floor beneath him, but only a little on me and none on my clothes.”
“You had blood spatter on you?”
“I wouldn’t call it spatter.” She curled her right hand into a fist. She didn’t want to show him her palm, but she couldn’t hide it. He’d notice it anyway.
Holding her hand out to him and spreading her fingers, she said, “The blood came from some cuts on my hand.”
He sucked in a sharp breath, and then skirted the counter and charged toward her. She shrank back when he dropped to his knees in front of her and took her wrist between his fingers.
But she had nothing to fear from Connor.
With a gentle touch, he traced a fingertip over each cut, sending chills down her spine.
“These aren’t very deep...and they’re on the wrong hand.”
“The wrong hand?”
“The wrong hand for stabbing. You’re left-handed.”
She clasped his shoulder with her left hand. “I knew there was a good reason to run to you. D-do you think someone’s trying to set me up for Niles’s murder? Because I do. That’s what I think.”
“Could be. Do you have a motive?” He dropped her wrist and rose to his feet, as her hand slid from his shoulder.
She rolled her eyes. “Take your pick. We were fighting over the business. With his death, I get the whole thing, controlling interest back in my lap. A-and there’s something else.”
&
nbsp; He had returned to his beer and raised his eyebrows as he took a sip.
“Life insurance.” She knotted her fingers in front of her. “Lots of life insurance.”
“It’s natural to assume a spouse would be the beneficiary of life insurance, even after a divorce. It’s not necessarily the first thing most people going through a separation think about.”
“Niles Wedgewood is not most people. He did think about dropping me as his beneficiary after the divorce in favor of his new girlfriend, Tiffany, and his junkie twin brother, Newland, and his sister, Melanie, up in San Francisco, but I convinced him we should leave each other as our beneficiaries until we had the business worked out.”
“And people know this?” Connor tugged on his earlobe, a sure sign of worry.
“His divorce attorney knows it.”
“How much are we talking?”
She dropped her chin to her chest. “Millions.”
“With Niles’s death, you stand to get the business and millions of dollars in life insurance money.”
His gaze sharpened and his eyes looked like chips of ice, sending a flutter of fear to her belly. She’d better get used to that look—especially if she couldn’t produce an alibi for last night.
“Looks bad, huh?”
He nodded. “Did it occur to you for one second to call the police?”
“You know more than anyone why I won’t do that. No, it never occurred to me. I need an alibi, Connor. I need you.”
“You want me to lie to the police for you. Claim you were here last night.”
She leaned forward, planting her hands on her knees. “Mom and I lied for your father.”
There it was.
Connor’s eye twitched at the corner. “There’s no footage of you at the house. You didn’t drive your car, so it wasn’t parked in the neighborhood. How’d you get home? Taxi? App car?”
“Do you think I’m stupid?” She sprang up from the couch, excitement and hope fizzing through her blood. He was going to help her. “I walked, and if you think that was easy with heels on, it wasn’t.”
“You walked home, got your car and drove straight down here?”
Her Alibi Page 2