Dirty Trouble (22 page)

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Authors: J.M. Griffin

BOOK: Dirty Trouble
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“Are you finished messing around now?” His voice was calm.

“Yeah, I guess so. I could have serious burns, you know.” I whined and I knew it.

“You’ll be fine. It wasn’t that hot.” He shook his head and then looked at me with that wolfish grin. “If you like, I’ll check it out later.”

“Great. I look forward to medical attention.”

He smiled broadly. I adore that smile, by the way. My grin matched his until I turned my head. At the table across the room, I caught the stare of Tony DeGreico. The smile froze on my face and Marcus caught the look.

“Who’s that?” His eyes raked DeGreico.

“Tony DeGreico, the guy who stalked me,” I muttered, suddenly uneasy.
Had he bumped me?

A cold hazel green stare turned to Tony and then to me. I reached across the table to take Marcus’ hand. A tightened jaw and frigid attitude settled over Richmond’s features and that increased my uneasiness. The cop demeanor fell into place as he stared at me and sipped tea. What was he thinking?

“I was just clumsy. Let it go.”

A cool customer, Marcus wouldn’t step across the room and pop DeGreico in the face, though it was probably on his mind. Instead, he focused on our dinner and me. With an effort, I relaxed enough to enjoy the meal and company. By the time we finished, DeGreico was gone and I didn’t even see the dirtball leave.

“Now, was that so difficult?” Marcus wondered aloud, once we were outside and his arm hung around my shoulder.

“Was what difficult?” Thought fled when his hand slid down my back and his warm lips covered my cheek with tiny kisses. My heart pounded and my blood pressure soared.

“Nothing.” He grinned. “Are you ready for first aid and dessert?”

“You have something good to offer?”

“No, I have something fantastic to offer.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The ego thing was there in front of me, along with Mr. Winky’s attention. I glanced down and said, “Yes, you do.”

We agreed to meet at the house and I drove away, my spirits heightened with anticipation.

The car slowed and turned into the driveway. I eased next to the Yukon and parked. The door locks clicked when I closed the car door. As I wandered toward the house, I wondered how long it would be before Marcus arrived.

A step behind me crunched on the uneven stones of the driveway. It happened so fast that I didn’t have much time to react. Hands roughly grasped my shoulders and shoved me to the ground. I pitched forward and lost my balance.

Sharp edges of crushed stone cut into the soft skin of my palms that dug into the driveway. A heavier shove between my shoulder blades and I landed on all fours. Pointed tips pierced my knees as I turned my face away from the jagged surface. My hair flung forward, blocking my vision. For an instant, I just kneeled there, and then, when I realized I could, I scrambled to gain my footing. With fisted hands I took a few steps toward the house before whipping around.

The yard lay empty. No sound of footsteps could be heard. Exterior lights blazed as I whirled in a circle, taking in the entire yard all at once. The driveway was completely deserted.

The contents of my purse were splayed across the ground. Bent in half, I picked up everything and stuffed it all back into the bag. The whole time, I listened for any noise that would alert me to a possible repeat performance. With my purse full, I limped into the house and slammed it on the counter.

A half hour later, Marcus pulled into the yard in his truck. He’d gone home to change and get his own vehicle. While I waited, I picked stone bits from my palms and cleaned bleeding knees where the rocks jabbed through the material of my slacks. Band-Aids covered the small wounds now.

Relieved, I swept the door open and launched myself at the man. Though I had Band-Aids on my hands, I clung to Marcus like a life raft. So much for bravery.

“That glad to see me, huh?” he asked with a chuckle.

When I stepped back, he stared at my face. Then his eyes moved to my hands. One swooping glance took in my whole being. His face tightened as he waited for my story.

“What the hell happened between the time I left you at the restaurant, and now?” he demanded.

“I got home and there was a surprise visitor waiting in the shadows for me. I never saw who, but someone shoved me to the ground before I could defend myself.”

A strong hand came up to my hair and smoothed it before his palm cupped my face. He leaned in and kissed me with emotion. I moved closer and wrapped my arms around his neck. It was quite a while later before we had a moment to talk. By then, I was happy, Marcus appeared happy, and Mr. Winky was completely relaxed and asleep.

Nestling into Richmond’s shoulder as we lay in bed, I could hear the thump of his heart under my head. I smoothed a hand across his chest and the heat from his body warmed me. This was nice, real nice. I liked these diversionary tactics.

“Who do you think attacked you outside?”

“I haven’t a clue. There were no footsteps that I could hear. No sounds to even indicate a car drove away from anywhere in the neighborhood. You know how quiet the town becomes in the evening.”

“That’s true. Maybe we need to look closer at who might have set the fire. Might be the same person has now attacked you? It could be you pose a threat to someone. They might have been coming back for a look at the garage, you know.”

“Do you think so?” My heart clenched in my chest and my breathing seemed sporadic.

“It occurred to me that the fire might not have been set, but was an accident instead. No signs of a cigarette were found, only burned matches, but that doesn’t mean anything. If someone were smoking, and the flame caught the tree, and then the garage, there’d be panic and the person would flee. What do you think of that theory, Vin?”

“It makes more sense than someone purposely setting fire to the garage. I never did like that thought, Marcus.” I snuggled closer while he stroked my hair.

“How are your hands and knees feeling?” he asked.

“What hands and knees?” I asked with a chuckle.

“Then my tactics worked?”

“Indeed they did.”

“You got any coffee made? I could use a cup right about now.” He swept the covers back and a cool draft sent goosebumps across my body.
Dang, I was so comfortable, too.

“Coffee it is,” I said and slipped a robe on before heading into the kitchen.

From the bathroom Marcus hummed some country tune, totally off key. I smiled and wondered if he planned to stay the night. Gosh, what was I thinking? It bordered on a commitment kinda thing. Lordy, lordy – somebody help me keep those thoughts at bay.

While coffee brewed I slipped on a football jersey, followed by a pair of sweatpants – and left the robe behind. Fluffy socks covered my feet and I pulled my hair back into a clip. When I returned to the kitchen, I poured coffee into mugs, slopping milk into both, and all over the counter.

A grin covered Marcus’s face while he watched. He shook his head and tore paper towels off the roll. With a quick swipe, the milk disappeared and he tossed the sodden paper towels into the trash bin.

“You never cease to amaze me, never ever.” He grinned.

“I know I’m an amazing person. By the way, did you find out anything about Lou Anne yet?”

“Yeah, she’s a guest of the Rhode Island Women’s Detention Center. Her name is Lou Anne Begoni. She has relatives on the Hill and they’re a dysfunctional family. Rumor has it that Aaron started romancing her to get the goods on the family. When the facts came out, she was into every deal up to her brown eyeballs. A twisted woman, too, I hear. No wonder Jesse told you it was an engagement made in hell.”

“Aaron didn’t talk about it much. He wouldn’t explain, and I didn’t ask him to.”

“That must have been a difficult task for you. Knowing your penchant for the ‘need to know,’ it must have eaten you alive.”

“Hey, I’m insulted by that.” I pouted, imitating hurt feelings.

“Right, but you don’t deny it.” His laughter ignited mine.

“True enough. I also shared some information with him about Antonio, the businessman. He seemed pleased that I came clean, since he realized I had information of sorts.”

“We figured you’d spill your guts sooner or later.”

“Who’s
we
?” I asked, but I knew the answer.

“Aaron called me when you showed up on the Hill for pastry. I explained what you were doing and that you’d be staying for a brief moment or two.”

“How did you know?” I gasped.

“I just figured it out,” he said with an air of mystery.

“Great, I have no privacy at all with you two around. Who would ever have thought an undercover FBI agent would be such a blabbermouth?”

“You’re lucky, and you know it, Vin. He and I have to keep tabs on you for your own sake,” he said, while studying his fingernails. When he glanced up at me, I caught the teasing glimmer in his eyes.

I swatted him as my cell phone jingled its tune from deep inside the handbag. I hauled it out, flipped the cover open, and answered the call.

“Vinny, this is Porter. I have news for you.”

My glance strayed to Marcus who yawned wide, and stretched. I knew he listened. No sense in pretending the caller was someone else.

“What did you find out, Porter?” I asked, my eyes on Marcus.

Hazel eyes rested on me while I listened to the fingerprint results. I thanked the man and ended the call.

“Porter Anderson got a partial print off the card in class. He found a match for the owner of it.”

“Are you planning to tell me or not?” At attention, Marcus leaned his elbows on the counter and waited for me to answer the question.

“Antonio, the businessman.”

Silent, he leaned back and shook his head. It wasn’t the response I expected, but then I seldom knew what to expect from this enigmatic man.

“Well, well. Antonio, huh? I can’t believe it. We found a connection to the damage on your Taurus that led us to his associates. It figures he’d be in this up to his neck. I thought DeGreico was the perp, to be frank.”

“That was my assessment as well. I figured he thumped my bumper and sent me flying. Then someone put my name in the newspaper ‘Obituaries’. Porter told me he saw it listed yesterday. When we saw DeGreico at the restaurant tonight, the coincidence was a bit much for me. However, if Porter says it’s Antonio, then it must be true.”

“Get the note card and envelope to me tomorrow, and we’ll double check to make sure. In the meantime, stay off the Hill and out of trouble – if that’s possible.”

“If you insist,” I said, rubbing the palms of my sore hands.

With his fingers wrapped around mine, Marcus kissed each palm. Instant relief flowed through my veins, or were those my hormones raging? I couldn’t figure it out and so just let what would be, happen.

Marcus slid an arm around my shoulders and pulled me to him. Mr. Winky was awake again.

 

Chapter 20

 

Throughout the village, and up and down my street, vans and moving trucks lined the curb. It was early in the morning, but the artisans had already arrived to set up for a weekend of art sales. The cold weather was sunny, so at least that was in their favor. I didn’t envy them three days of chilly winds, but that was their choice. Not a job I’d stand in line for, but they probably wouldn’t take mine either. No accounting for tastes.

Blockades would be erected at the intersection by evening, and the weekend would officially begin. Thousands of people with dogs, and kids in strollers would tramp through the village. They’d check out the yard sales and food offered at the church and the deli on the corner. I’d also have more company than I could imagine. If that didn’t pan out, I’d have to eat all that pastry by myself.

I grinned, waved at the fire chief erecting barriers, and headed east, driving toward the campus. The car hustled along next to tractor-trailers, mail trucks, cement mixers, and a slew of cars headed toward Massachusetts. We rounded the curve on the interstate highway, and I made it across the Washington Bridge safely, for the third day in a row.
Yes, there is a God.

When I cruised into the grounds of the university, I noticed Ramirez hanging around outside. He stared while I locked my car, and walked alongside me as I approached the foyer of the building.

“So Teach, did you find out who was behind the fingerprint you had Porter run?” he asked.

Alert, I wondered at his interest. I said, “Why do you want to know?”

“Just wondering. There’s talk on the Hill that there’s some heavy shit going down, and I wondered if the print was connected to those people.”

“Oh, well, Porter couldn’t get a good match. Not enough points to fit it with anyone.” I didn’t know why I lied. Perhaps it was a case of paranoia.

“Any idea who it could belong to then?” he asked with a sly grin.

What was this about and where was he headed with it?
I stared at him.

“No clue. Do you have any?” I wanted to know. “It’s alarming to have threats, even subtle ones, made against me.”

He shook his head and said, “I’m sure it is. If you hear anything, let me know. I’d be happy to put those scumbags in lockup. Or to stand guard at your place.” I shook my head.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” I said.

We entered the room to find the class milling around. As a group they shuffled toward their seats and waited for me to take attendance. The only person missing was Porter Anderson.

About an hour into the class, the door opened and Porter sauntered into the room. He glanced at me with a slight smile and a wink as he took his seat. I continued on until the lecture was finished and then dismissed everyone for a break. It would be an early day. Fridays usually were. I kept everyone for a full day most seminar days, but Fridays were different.

The room emptied, except for Porter. He hung around until I glanced at him. The bag with the note card in it was suspended between two fingers. He slid his chair back and strode forward.

“Vin, I ran another test last night and found a print on the glue inside the envelope.”

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