‘No, it’s OK,’ she said hurriedly, but it was too late.
‘I don’t want to make you feel bad.’
‘Jack, you’re not. I’m sorry if I overreacted,’ she said desperately.
‘You didn’t. I’ll call you later, OK? When I get back,’ he said, and hung up.
Luckily for Karen, she had no way of contacting him. She would sit in her apartment and cry about being fat and blowing it. Never knowing how death had been breathing down her neck for weeks. Now she got to mourn, and stumble out to a bar, and press herself against another half-drunk dude who was looking for a lay and wasn’t too picky about the form it took. Karen’s slobbish life would go back to normal. Felix certainly didn’t have time to hunt her. But the questions she’d asked meant she was now useless as a source. She had noticed, and that was toxic. Besides, Sam was running, clearly, hiring cars and clamping down on his credit card. That meant she would be of limited use. Did he know he was being tracked? Or was he just taking care?
It was important that Felix find him, and kill him. Sam was the key to Lisa Costello. He would tell Felix where to find her, either directly or under torture, and then the job would be done at last, the loose ends tied together. He was annoyed he’d let it get this far. He was looking forward to seeing them both dead. And this time, no assumptions. Felix would take care of it.
Sam moved back into the room and watched her for a minute guiltily. There was something personal about this act of trespass. Watching those red lips, open on the pillow, her hair tousled about her, her chest rising and falling with her breath. Lisa Costello, at peace. For a few seconds more.
He bent in close to her, lowering his mouth to her ear. It would be so easy to kiss her, right now, and she wouldn’t really understand what had just happened. But he lifted his lips from her skin just millimetres above it. When Lisa kissed him, he wanted her to know what she was doing . . .
He stiffened; yes, he’d had the thought, when, not if. She was so ripe, so hot. Josh Steen had tried to control her, never to fulfil her. She was a woman in need of a man, a true man, but she was suspicious, and would fight it all the way. And Sam acknowledged to himself that he wanted to be in the battle. To fight her emotions and conquer them; to taste her, when she pressed against him, and yielded herself, hot and eager, in his arms. Because she would be eager. Once the fear had gone, she was ready for it.
He glanced down at her sleeping. Her vulnerability made her even more attractive. God, he had to have more control than this. Craig would throw him to the wolves if he fucked her. He was here to solve the mystery, right? Real investigative journalism. Something worthwhile in his life, worth giving up a million bucks for. Sex would cloud it. What if he slept with her, and then she broke up with him? How would that be, on the road together? Impossible. He shouldn’t, couldn’t have her. He had to keep a clear head.
If Lisa came to him, it should be after this case was done, and she was a free woman. Once some bad guys were in jail and the FBI weren’t looking for Sam Murray. That time was not now.
Get to work, buddy, he told himself. He reached down and touched her on the shoulder. God, but her skin was warm, soft. He steeled himself against the surge of desire.
‘Lisa.’
She stirred, moaned a little. He guessed she was exhausted, her body still clinging desperately to sleep, but he couldn’t help that now. They needed to move.
‘Lisa, you got to wake up. Get in the shower.’ He shook her harder. She gasped, and sat bolt upright reflexively, flinging the sheets from her. Sam caught a glimpse of long, tanned thigh, and the soft curves of her breasts under the T-shirt as it hung forward. He bit the skin on the inside of his mouth. She was well curved, with a small waist and a flaring firm ass that just sang to him. So different from the lanky LA models with their coke habits. Yeah. Josh Steen had excellent taste.
‘God! You startled me.’
‘I’m sorry, but we’ve got to go. They’ll be tracking us. Trying to find us. You have to move fast.’
‘They who?’ she said. She stood up, and it was beautiful. He tried not to stare at her bare legs below those boxers.
‘Whoever killed Josh and tried to frame you. Who do you think? If you’re innocent, somebody else is guilty. And they want you dead.’
She nodded, her complexion pale. But Sam didn’t feel guilty. It was good she should be scared. He didn’t have time to waste.
‘I’ll be five minutes.’
‘Be two. Rinse off and dress. You can get fancier once we land in Liechtenstein.’
Lisa didn’t argue. She went into the little motel bathroom, and he heard the water running and tried not to think too hard about it sluicing over her naked body, hardening up her nipples. He packed up their stuff, moving fast. It was one way to distract himself.
Within a minute the water had stopped. He heard her brushing her teeth. Good, she was efficient.
‘I’m coming out.’
‘OK.’
There was a pause. ‘This towel’s a bit short. Can you turn your back, please?’
He hardened instantly, despite himself. Damm it, get a grip. ‘Sure,’ he said easily. Thank God he could turn his back to her; he needed to.
The door opened. Sam stared out the window facing the parking lot. He could still see her reflection in that window. Not as clearly as he’d have liked, but look at that. Lisa Costello’s fine athletic body, full breasts, narrow waist but not overly thin, terrific round ass, long legs with nicely turned calves. The little rectangular scrap of a white towel did a lousy job of concealing her assets. His mouth was dry.
She was moving around the room, picking up clothes. Jeans and a boxy T-shirt. Unfortunately, he now knew precisely what that boxy T-shirt was covering up. This was going to be tough. She grabbed her panties; he narrowed his eyes trying to make them out. Virginal white cotton briefs. He imagined his hand on them, tugging them down around her thighs . . .
‘OK, I’ll be right out.’ She disappeared back into the bathroom again. Ceasing to torment him for a few minutes. Sam stood there and tried to deflate his erection. He forced himself to think of Liechtenstein, the safe houses he knew of there, wondered if they’d still be active, what Plan B was if they weren’t. It worked, a little. He was glad he wore his jeans loose-fitting.
Thirty seconds later, there she was; clean and scrubbed in her nondescript clothes, her damp hair tied back, no make-up, exceptionally hot. She looked young, fresh. Nothing like a hooker.
‘We’ll go out the same way we came in.’ He picked up his small bag of stuff. ‘I carry this, and you cling on to me. Try to look hung over. Into me. OK? Just don’t get noticed.’
‘I can do that.’ He opened the door, and Lisa stumbled after him, one arm flung drunkenly round his shoulders, burying her face in his neck. Sam moved through the lobby; Lisa was kissing and licking at him now, murmuring that he was her baby, that she could do him right, he could get her coffee. It was disturbing. The feel of her lips and tongue was too good. But she had it right; his peripheral vision saw the desk clerk giving them no more than a cursory leer, and then glance down at his paper again.
He endured her caresses right through the parking lot, in case they were being watched. Then he opened the car door and half shoved her inside, like you would do with a whore. It was a relief to get her off his neck. He didn’t think he could take much more teasing. Fuck, he wanted to drop her somewhere and go get a real hooker. Someone, anyone, to ease this torment.
‘How was that?’ she said, as he turned the key and wrenched the steering wheel, taking them out on to the safety of the autostrada.
‘Great. Very realistic.’
‘You sound angry,’ she observed.
‘No, I just didn’t sleep well. And we have lots to do.’ He put his foot on the gas, but no amount of speed would take him away from her; she was right next to him, and the scent of her freshly washed skin was intoxicating. ‘I want to get across the border first, then we can find a diner, grab breakfast. I’m gonna need t
o know more about Josh.’
Lisa sighed. ‘Really, I’ve told you everything.’
‘You’ve told me what you think is important, yeah. But that’s not where the killer’s hiding. I want to hear about how his family was with you. His mom, his sister . . .’
‘Both of them bitches.’
‘Good. So tell me that story. And his business partners, golf buddies. One of them had Josh killed. You’re a lead; right now, you’re my only lead. You have to go through everything with me and we’ll work on finding what you’re not seeing.’
She turned her head, and he kept his eyes on the road. He could stare all day long at the curve of her neck.
‘Most likely it’s nobody I know.’
‘Why do you think that?’
Lisa shrugged. ‘Josh kept his work away from me. He sometimes talked about it but he was suspicious if I asked, probably because he’d dated so many actresses. One thing he loved about me was that I didn’t want anything from his world. So I wouldn’t even know about half the guys in his office, the enemies he had. It’s bound to be one of them, right?’
‘Money’s a big factor, yes.’ Sam had a hunch, and Lisa was forcing him to articulate it now. ‘But so is sex. And jealousy. It’s a risk to kill somebody.’ He grinned at her. ‘Carries the death penalty in lots of places.’
‘Yeah. I figured that out fast.’
‘The killer would have too. And by killer, I mean whoever ordered the hit. You understand this was the work of a professional assassin?’
Lisa winced, and passed her hand across her temples, as though she could relieve a throbbing head that way.
‘Because they set it up to look like I did it?’
‘Exactly. Joe Schmoe couldn’t have gotten into that bedroom undetected.’ He glanced up at the road signs, and spun the car off the motorway, heading into a little side road that took them out through some villages in Aosta. ‘We’ll go a back route, see if we can avoid the border guards.’
‘OK,’ Lisa said. She blew the air out of her cheeks. ‘Maybe we should dump the vehicle, walk across.’
‘Like the family von Trapp in The Sound of Music?’
‘Don’t laugh at me.’
‘Sorry. It’s a serious thing.’
‘I’ve had enough shit with passports to last the rest of my goddamned life,’ Lisa said. ‘Getting a new car is easier than getting out of custody.’
‘I’m trying to avoid using credit cards. Look, we’ll see if we can find a spot to drive over. Getting a car without leaving a trail isn’t as easy as you think.’ She looked unhappy, but he wasn’t about to argue the point. ‘Think about how you found Josh’s body.’
‘I’d rather not.’
‘But it’s the best place to start, because it tells us about who killed him. You woke up and you thought you’d got a hangover, had a blackout. You were holding the dagger. He was stabbed, his blood was on you. No signs of forced entry. You were positioned like you’d done it. You thought you had.’
‘Thank you for the recap,’ Lisa said quietly.
Sam was annoyed. ‘I’m trying to save your life here, doll. Don’t pull me up on everything. You don’t have time to be precious.’
She shivered. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I think I get what you’re saying. The killer had to have drugged me, without me knowing. Either got into our room without breaking anything or . . .’ Her voice trailed off. ‘Or have been there all along. In a closet or something, waiting. And then overpowered Josh, killed him, without attracting any attention from the hotel maids . . .’
‘Or even his folks. His family was staying on that corridor. It had to have been a real clean kill, with Josh not able to cry out.’
Lisa didn’t want to think about that. But it was true: she’d been drugged, out cold, and somebody had been stabbing Josh, right next to her.
‘He also framed you perfectly. The dagger was a nice touch, the royal wedding present. That kind of thing makes them mad in Thailand. He got out without leaving a trace, and left you there as the ideal patsy. All of this means professional. So somebody hated your husband, was prepared to risk execution to kill him, and was even prepared to let somebody else in on it - the hired help. That’s a big risk to take for just a business enemy. No, I think this was personal, at least in part.’
She was silent, digesting it. ‘Yes. I can see that’s logical.’
‘Money is one classic motivation. Love is another. Josh had an eye for women. He banged Melissa on your wedding day.’
‘And you’re saying she wasn’t the only one?’
‘By no means.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m not trying to hurt you here, but taboid reporter is what I do. Josh Steen stopped seeing other girls for, I guess, maybe the first four months you two were together. After that he hooked back up with his regular madam, and there were lots of rumours about chicks in his circle. His assistants . . .’
‘I knew it,’ Lisa said fiercely. Her eyes prickled with tears. It was so humiliating, listening to Sam discussing her husband cheating in this matter-of-fact way.
‘. . . and the wives of his acquaintances. He could be a real bastard like that, Lisa; he did it for a power trip. Divorce is expensive in Hollywood, and who’d want to cross Josh Steen, with all his money and power? Maybe to one of those jealous husbands, killing him was the perfect answer. And framing you would be the cherry on the cake. You fuck my wife and I’ll fuck with yours.’
‘Yeah.’ She nodded. ‘If they felt the anger . . . the shame of it; so dirty. That’s how I felt. Trapped. I can see that might make them kill. Contact somebody. So you need me to go over all my so-called girlfriends and tell you which of them were banging my fiancé?’
‘Something like that.’ Sam looked over, saw her reddened cheeks and the tight set of her mouth. It was interesting to him that she obviously cared. Many a trophy wife in her position wouldn’t, in fact didn’t, give a fuck. If you had the name and the ring, who cared who the meal ticket was sleeping with? Hundreds of Hollywood wives worked just that way. He knew of some who even encouraged it. If the man sowed his oats in a wide field, he wasn’t likely to divorce the wife, who was there for social respectability. A single mistress was much more of a threat than a whore or two in a strip joint or some of the wife’s safely married girlfriends. ‘Lisa . . . did you really love Josh?’
‘At one time, yes. Sure. He rescued me. Any girl would have loved him.’
Rescued her? From that diner maybe. But Lisa was making a life for herself, training as a florist, working two jobs. He didn’t hear reality; he heard guilt.
Never mind. There were tears in her eyes now, and Sam felt horrible. The desire that had clung to him since he looked down at her sleeping finally left him. Poor kid. It had been a rough few days.
‘All right, take a break. Enjoy the scenery. We’ll get to the border in a little while.’
She stared out of the window at the green fields of northern Italy, with the Alps looming against the sky behind them, but Sam got the impression she was not seeing very much.
Craig mopped his brow. Jesus Christ, it was hot. He was used to LA, but this was something else. The humidity stank. It was like walking through soup. He was drenched in sweat; he knew there were patches under his armpits. Should have packed more shirts. Thailand was way out of his comfort zone.
Fucking Sam Murray, he thought.
‘How long you be, mister?’ A thin local man was looking up at him belligerently. He wore the uniform of the resort. ‘We want get place ready. Entire hotel is closed. Nobody working.’
‘As long as it takes,’ Craig snapped. His men were fanned out through the room, and he’d had to deal with their grumbling already. What was the point of flying out to this hellhole when everybody knew who’d done it? Craig had had to fight with them, with his bosses, now the wait staff. Everybody was a critic.
The man’s face fell, and Craig relented. This guy probably made less in a year than he made in a month. It was unseemly to bully him. ‘Loo
k, man, we’re about halfway through, OK? Couple more hours, it’s all yours.’
‘OK, OK.’ The hotel manager fell away. Craig glanced around the scene and felt his stomach knot. Anxiety, maybe also some excitement.
He had a good hunter’s sense. Sam Murray, his old friend, the guy he’d spent the last ten years mad at, had dragged him into this. Murray, the genius who ruined it all by being selfish and lazy. It aggravated him that Sam had thrown away his life for a fast car and some hot chicks; money, basically, nothing more complicated than that. Finally he’d got the one offer of cash that might actually mean something, a new life, a second chance.
And this time he was throwing it away because he thought the girl was innocent.
Craig would never admit it, but he had respect for Sam Murray’s skill. The guy was at the top of his shitty, worthless profession precisely because he could read people, he could hunt. That was what brought the exclusives, the fat paycheque and the indulgent editor. It was what made him the guy chosen to cover the wedding in paradise.
Sam’s gut told him Lisa Costello was not behind this. It would be real easy to ignore Sam’s gut. Nobody would care; the case would wrap up, and he, Craig, would be the intrepid Fibbie agent who had tracked down the tabloids’ Bride of Frankenstein. Promotion beckoned. His own fat pay cheque, something to make Maria happy. A fast car of his own, maybe. Respect across the Bureau. A glittering future.
He was risking it all. This would piss a lot of people off. Swap one nice, neat suspect for a totally unsolved case, for a murderer who’d had a week to get away, who could be one of hundreds of guys. For a second, Craig thought about Lisa Costello. She couldn’t be better, really, the money-grubbing foreigner the press loved to hate, not even beautiful enough to escape censure, drunk at her own wedding, making a scene in front of some of California’s richest people, suddenly the heir to almost a billion dollars . . .
Craig mentally said a regretful goodbye to that nice, neat picture. She didn’t do it. Instinct told him Sam Murray was right about that.
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