“No, you’re a little wacko. What were you thinking?”
“If you’re only here to chastise me, go away.”
He smiled. “After you called me sweetheart?”
“That was a clue.”
“I figured that out all by myself. Figured out that you wanted me to find your car and a key, and that there was something on the Crime Stoppers tape you wanted me to hear.”
“The ship’s bells in the background.”
“Got that. Victor Dane was confused at first, but when I read Jupiter, I figured that’s where you three were being held.”
“How are Ellen and Becky?”
“Becky is taking a shower, and Ellen is getting stitched up as we speak.”
“Liv and Jane?”
“Took a walk.”
Tony and Izzy pulled aside the curtain. Tony had a beautiful spray of roses. “How’s the patient?”
“I’ll live.”
Izzy looked terrified. I plastered a smile on my face. “It’s not as bad as it looks. They charge based on how many machines they connect.”
Izzy relaxed a bit. “Seriously, you were stabbed and everything?”
“Just grazed,” I lied. “Come here.”
Izzy moved to my bedside. I patted her hand. “I’m really okay, and luckily, so are my friends.”
“I was scared.”
“I was too, but it’s over now.”
She gave me a gentle hug, then said, “We brought you flowers. Dad says they’re your favorite.”
“Your dad is right. How was the dance?”
“Lindsey Hetzler and her boyfriend got caught making out, and she got suspended and—”
Tony stepped in and placed his hands on Izzy’s shoulders. “You can tell her everything later. Finley could probably use some rest.”
“Sorry,” Izzy said.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m glad Lindsey got hers.”
“Can I see you again soon?” Izzy asked.
“The minute they spring me from this place, I’ll give you a ring.”
“Feel better,” Tony said. There was an awkward few seconds when I sensed he wanted to do something. Squeeze my hand, hug me, kiss me? Something.
Once Tony and Izzy left, it was only Liam, me, and some tension.
“Who shot Gretchen?” I asked.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. It does to me.”
“Leave it alone, Finley. It isn’t worth rehashing.”
“Was it you?”
“Izzy looked really worried. Maybe she should come back and sit with you for a while.”
“Why won’t you tell me?”
“Because I don’t want you to be grateful.”
“Why not?”
“I want you for a whole bunch of other reasons.”
“So what are you waiting for?”
“Well, you to get off the morphine drip for one.”
I smiled. “And since I’m sure my face is all scratched and horrid, you’d probably like to wait for that to heal, too.”
“You’re beautiful, scratches and all.”
“Then how about giving me a kiss?”
He stood and came to my side. “Oh, don’t worry. I will. Often. Get some rest.”
“I’d rather have a kiss.”
“You’re making it tough for me to walk away.”
“That’s the point, Liam. I don’t want you to walk away.”
He bent down and brushed his lips across my forehead. “I don’t want to walk away, but the cops have been waiting to talk to you.”
“They can wait a little longer.”
“So can I,” he said. Then he kissed my lips and walked out of the room.
Turn the page
for a sneak peek of
the next stylishly entertaining
Finley Anderson Tanner novel
BARGAIN HUNTING
from bestselling author
Rhonda Pollero
Coming soon from Gallery Books
My road to happiness is under construction.
one
I had forty-three seconds left. My fingers were perched over the keyboard as I watched the time slowly tick away. eBay bidding is an art if you know what you’re doing and I was a maestro. I was bidding on the innards of a Rolex Ladies DateJust watch. If I won the auction, I’d make tremendous strides toward my build-my-dream-watch-from-scratch project. I desperately wanted the watch of my dreams and I’d spent two years gathering parts on eBay. At the rate I was going, I would have all the parts by the time I was thirty-five.
The clock ticked down below thirty seconds and I was not the high bidder. I was lulling my competition into submission and the plan was to swoop in at the last second and hopefully enter a bid high enough to win the auction.
My attention was on the computer but I became distracted when the security lights switched on and I heard a car pull into the drive of my Palm Beach cottage. If I had to guess, I’d assume it was not one of my friends. No one I knew would drop by without calling. Especially not when it was nearly midnight. There was a knock at the door. “Hang on!” I called, my eyes fixed on the clock. There was a second knock, louder and more impatient.
Shit. “Just a minute!” Or more accurately, seventeen seconds.
My front door, which I knew I’d locked, suddenly burst open. I looked up from my screen and found Liam McGarrity standing in my foyer. Liam was tall and handsome in a bad boy kinda way and I’d spent the better part of a year tamping down my attraction to him. I hadn’t been very successful. Only this time, my heart skipped a beat for a different reason. Liam was covered in blood, holding an equally bloody beach towel.
Forgetting that I was dressed in a pair of Victoria’s Secret boxers and a pair of layered spaghetti strapped tees in complimentary shades of pink, I stood when I read his expression. I’d never seen him looking anything other than sexy, arrogant, or amused. But now his piercing blue eyes were narrowed and etched with concern.
“I need help.”
“What happened?” I asked. “Did you hit an animal?”
Suddenly my eBay alert avatar announced, “Your auction has ended.” The comment barely registered.
He stood stiffly, his stained free hand dangling at his side. “I found a body.”
“So you came here? Shouldn’t you call the sheriff’s office or something?”
“The deceased was a member of the sheriff’s office. He was shot with my gun.”
My brain was spinning, trying to fit the pieces of his conversation into place. “Back up. What happened to make you kill a deputy?”
“I didn’t kill him.”
“But you said it was your gun.”
“It was. But I haven’t seen that weapon for five years. I don’t know how Paul Lopez was shot with it.”
“How do you know it’s yours?”
“Serial number.”
“Did you lose the gun?”
“In a manner of speaking. Look, I know this is asking a lot but can I hang here for a while? I’m sure the cops will go looking for me at my place. I doubt they’d come here.”
“Am I aiding and abetting?”
His eyes met mine. “Probably. But if it comes to it, I’ll swear you knew nothing about Paul or the gun.”
“What’s with the towel?” I asked.
“I used it to wipe down my car. I’d like to wash it, along with my clothes.”
“But if you didn’t do anything—”
“It won’t play like that. Trust me.”
The thing was, I did trust him. Liam had saved my life on more than one occasion so the least I could do was wash a towel. “Give it to me,” I said, walking over to where he stood.
“Can we do my clothes, too?”
As inappropriate as it was, my mind flashed the delicious image of Liam standing gloriously naked in front of me. I dismissed the thought and remembered the bag in my guest room. “Wait here.”
I dashed down the hallway and returned carrying the b
ag. “Is there blood on your shoes?”
“Probably. After I clean up I’ll take them outback, rinse them and then hit the soles with some bleach.”
I nodded. “To screw up any presumptive test for blood.”
He offered a half-smile. “Very good. I see Tony has taught you a lot.”
Tony Caprelli was the latest and hottest addition to the law firm of Dane, Lieberman and Caprelli. Even though we had a mild spark, Tony’d blown me off with the single-father excuse. He was, however, coming around. Thanks in large part to my close relationship with his daughter, Izzy. Izzy liked coming to my place to enjoy the beach, and more and more frequently, Tony hung around as well.
Liam looked in the bag. “Do you always keep a bag of men’s clothes in your house?”
“Tony left them this afternoon.”
Liam’s expression darkened. “Oh.”
I really didn’t owe Liam an explanation. Screw it; he could just let his mind wander on that point. “The guest bath is the first door on the left.”
“Thanks,” he said as he slipped off his shoes and dropped the towel on top of them.
In a matter of minutes, I heard the shower start. I used the time to rinse and bleach his boat shoes, then placed the towel in the washer while I waited to add his clothing.
Liam emerged towel-drying his black hair, carrying his bloody clothes. He was dressed in khakis and a blue polo shirt that did magical things for his eyes. It was quite a change from his cargo shorts and Tommy Bahama shirts. As attractive as he looked, it just didn’t feel like Liam. He wasn’t the dressy casual type, hence the reason he’d left the shirt untucked. Other than at my sister’s wedding, I’d only seen Liam in his signature attire. While he did wonders for a tux, this ensemble made him look like a Ken doll.
I added the clothes to the washer, along with the towel he’d used to partially dry his hair. “There’s a comb in the guest basket in the bathroom,” I said.
“No need,” Liam replied as he raked his fingers through his hair. All that did was give him a tousled, just-out-of-bed look that made my stomach clench. Even in the midst of a crisis I couldn’t control my hormones. God, am I ever lame.
“I took care of your shoes,” I said.
“Give me the bleach so I can rinse the traps in your bathroom.”
I handed him the bottle. As he walked away I got a sinking feeling. While I was happy to give Liam aid and comfort, and probably more than that, I felt as if I was getting in over my head. Liam didn’t need the help of a paralegal who had worked exclusively in estates and trusts for eight years before adding criminal defense work to her repertoire. He needed a lawyer. He’d probably get pissed, but it seemed prudent to call Tony. He’d know the best course of action. Besides, the two men had a friendship that went back more than a decade.
I reached for the phone and dialed Tony’s cell. I didn’t want to call the house phone in case Izzy was sleeping.
“Caprelli.”
“It’s Finley. I’m sorry to bother you so late, but something has come up. Liam was—”
“Who the hell are you calling?” Liam demanded.
I placed my hand over the mouthpiece. “Tony. You need him.”
“No, I just need a couple of hours. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Finley?” Tony asked into my ear.
I looked at Liam, tilting my head to one side. “Please?”
“Gimme the phone.”
I handed Liam my cell, then twisted my blonde hair up into a messy knot at the nape of my neck.
Though he was speaking to Tony, Liam surveyed my now-bare neck, then dropped lower. A shiver tickled my spine, and I was reminded that I wasn’t exactly dressed for company. While he was on the phone, I went into my room and grabbed a bra, panties, T-shirt, and shorts. I changed in record time.
When I returned to the living room, Liam was off the phone and on the sofa. The slosh of the washer just off the kitchen echoed in the quiet of the room. The layout had been the brainchild of my friend Sam Carter. He’d taken the dilapidated shell and turned it into a white, coral, and teal thing of beauty. There was no wall dividing the kitchen from the eating area or the living space. It was open and airy, and the focal point was the triple sliders leading out to a stunning strip of beach I considered all my own. In reality, it wasn’t mine. Florida doesn’t allow for individuals to own private beaches. But Palm Beach got around that rule by building a succession of sea walls that took claw hooks and a hefty amount of rope to scale.
Liam’s large frame made the room feel smaller. I sat at the opposite end of the sofa with my legs tucked under me and one elbow resting on the padded top. “Going to tell me the whole story?”
“Not much to tell,” Liam said. “Got any beer?”
I went to the fridge and got him a beer, then placed a new pod in my Keurig and made myself a cup of hazelnut coffee. I opened the bottle, added cream to my coffee, then rejoined him.
“Someone was killed with your gun. Seems to me there’s a story in there somewhere.”
Liam shrugged. The action caused a strain on the seams of the shirt. Apparently he was more broad-chested than Tony. I really needed to stop making these comparisons. Attraction or not, Liam really was the wrong man for me. For any woman. Well, except for his not-so-ex-wife, Ashley. As far as I could tell she was the only woman who was a constant in his life, and I’d often seen the two of them out at restaurants or clubs in downtown West Palm. It bugged me that he still had some sort of relationship with his ex, but I was in no position to challenge him on that one. Plus, there was the issue of my always picking the wrong man. A habit I’m trying really hard to break. Tony, on the other hand, was definite boyfriend material. Except for the instant-family thing. But I was getting over that, thanks to my good relationship with his daughter. But there’s always a danger associated with dating a widower. Tough to compete with a ghost. Tony’s wife had died when the towers went down, so he’d come to Florida for a fresh start. I wouldn’t mind being part of that start, I just had to find a way around the single father thing and the fact that, technically, he’s my boss; interoffice dating is a huge no-no at Dane-Lieberman.
“Paul and I used to be partners.”
“Is that how he got your gun?” I asked.
“The last time I saw that gun was just before it was put in the evidence locker. That was five years ago.”
I fiddled with a strand of hair that had come loose from my messy coif. “I’m assuming things don’t normally go missing from the police evidence lockup?”
“Not usually, no.”
“Could Paul have taken it out?”
Again he shrugged. “Maybe, if he was taking a second look at the case.”
“What case?”
Liam took a long pull on the bottle. “It was five years ago, and the case was closed. I can’t think of a valid reason why he’d be wasting his time on it. Besides, he was transferred to traffic division after the incident.”
“What is this incident?”
“Let it go, Finley.”
“You brought me into this,” I said, irritated. “I think the least you can do is fill in the gaps so I’ll know why I’m risking so much.”
“I’ve done the same for you.”
“I know that. But you’ve always known why I was in trouble. Now the proverbial shoe is on the other foot.”
“They took my gun five years ago.”
“Why?”
“Because I shot and killed a kid.”
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4 Slightly Irregular Page 24