Finders Keepers Losers Die (23 page)

"He's not here?"

"He had a meeting."

"Good. I don't want him to know."

"He's going to find out eventually if he
talks to the neighbors."

"He's too busy to talk to people."

He squeezed my shoulder. "In that case, I
won't say anything if you don't want me to."

"I don't."

"Okay, but I have to ask—is this something
to do with Roberta's case?"

"Maybe." I shrugged. "Probably." I hugged my
arms to stem the chill running up them, and tried to ignore my
thumping heart.

"Christ, Cat, this is serious. You're a
mess. You should tell Will. He'll want to know."

"No!"

He held up his hands. "Okay. Then I think
you should tell
me
what's going on, if only to have someone
on your side. Obviously you're getting into some dangerous shit
here."

"There's not much to tell," I said. "I was
investigating a lead and someone followed me. The same car as last
Saturday before the fire."

He swore softly and rubbed my hand. It had a
slightly calming effect. "Maybe you should tell the police."

"No one got a license plate number." I
shrugged one shoulder and winced at the stab of pain down my arm.
"There's nothing they can do."

He slumped back in the chair and blew out a
breath. Gina returned holding a cup of tea and I took it
gratefully. They sat with me until the shaking stopped and my color
returned to normal.

Gina left but Carl hovered until I shooed
him away. To keep from thinking too much about the near accident, I
ordered some new business cards with my name and sorted through the
mail on my desk. Despite my attempts to be cool, I jumped when the
door flew open.

Will entered like a fierce storm, his eyes
as black as thunder, his fists clenched, looking like he wanted to
kill someone.

"Will? You okay?"

He slammed the door shut and stalked across
the floor to where I sat. I'd never seen him so angry. Usually he
was too busy to notice things that should make him angry. The overt
show of fury was something new. I gripped the desk and tried to
think of what I'd done wrong to warrant the ferocity. Because of
course, it had to be my fault.

But instead of giving me an earful he drew
me into a tight hug and didn't let me go for a really long
time.

"You okay?" he whispered into my hair.

I drew away. "Who told you?"

"Gina. I saw her outside."

Traitor.

He stroked my cheek with his thumb then gave
me the once over. "You've got a graze on your elbow."

He took me by the affected elbow and marched
me into the kitchen. There was no space for a chair, so he propped
me against the bench while he dampened a cloth and pressed it to
the wound. Neither of us spoke, but I knew what was going through
his head and I knew what he wanted to say. His body vibrated with
the effort of saying nothing.

After a few looooong seconds, I couldn't
stand the tension any longer. Whoever said silence is golden
mustn't have been in a confined space with a man like Will. A man
whose emotions filled that space to bursting point.

"You want me to give up this case, don't
you?" I said.

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to. It's written all over
your face."

"But I'd like to go on record as not having
said it."

I rolled my eyes. "Will, this is
serious."

He wadded up the cloth and slammed it into
the sink. "Don't you think I fucking know that! Jesus, you nearly
got killed today. And if you don't give up this damn case of yours,
then I'll…" He threw his arms into the air as if looking for divine
intervention.

"You'll what? Take me off it?"

"Will it make any difference if I do?" His
face started to turn purple and a vein popped out on his
forehead.

Before his head exploded all over the
kitchen, I gripped his arms and stared into his eyes. "None
whatsoever." I turned and left, striding down the hall to my
desk.

My response was partly out of frustration
and anger at being treated like the little secretary, but also
partly because I'd lose all credibility if I stopped investigating.
Not only with Will, Carl, Scarface and anyone else who knew I was
working it, but also with myself. I
had
to do it. He just
didn't get it.

He also didn't get that forcing me to do
something only sent me running in the opposite direction. Dad had
never got that either.

Will followed me and grabbed my arm. I
jerked out of his grip and glared back at him. We faced off,
neither saying a thing but neither wanting to back down from the
staring match.

Carl's head popped round his door. "What's
going on?" He looked from me to Will and back again. "Um, I'll be
in my office if anyone needs me." He pulled his head back in and
closed his door.

"It's five o'clock." I picked up my handbag.
"I'm going."

"No you're not, we're in the middle of a
discussion." Will snatched my bag and smacked it down on my
desk.

I picked up the bag again and slung it over
my shoulder. "It's not a discussion when you order someone
around."

"I'm not ordering you to do anything. But if
you weren't so stubborn, you'd see that you're putting yourself in
danger. And for what? Tell me, Cat, because I don't get it. Why do
you want to do this?"

"Pride. Self-respect. I want to be in
control of my life instead of having someone tell me what to do all
the time. But that's not something I'd expect you to
understand."

"I don't tell you what to do."

I dropped my head and looked up at him
through my lashes. "You've got to be kidding. You're the king of
being in control. You've got Carl and me scurrying around—"

"That's because I'm your boss!" He threw his
hands up and let them slap against his thighs. "If that's your
problem, then yeah, I guess I am a control freak. So it won't come
as a surprise that I'm ordering you to stop working for Roberta
Scarletti."

"No surprise." I brushed past him.

"And if you're planning on continuing in
your own time, I wouldn't bother. I'll be making sure Forde won't
help you either."

"Fine," I said as I opened the front door.
"Because you're as bad as each other and I don't need either of
you." I slammed the door shut and turned to see Gina glaring at me,
arms crossed. "What are you looking at?" I strode past her.

"Want help crossing the road?"

"No!"

CHAPTER 13

Alcohol is supposed to deaden the senses. I
beg to differ. After three martinis I was hearing things I normally
wouldn't. Like the squeaking tires of a passing bicycle outside,
the elderly couple humping next door, and a million creaks and
groans as the old apartment building settled.

On arriving back at Gina's place, I'd closed
the curtains and sat on the couch with my glass and my thoughts,
alone among the flowers. Contrary to popular belief, I kind of
liked being alone. It gave me time to think.

But sometimes thinking can be bad.

Especially when your life is in danger, your
friends are conspiring against you, and your love life is a car
crash.

Thank God the doorbell interrupted my
contemplation before I really freaked myself out. The clock on the
wall indicated it was too early to be Will apologizing for his
high-handed attitude. And Gina had a key. So who the hell could it
be?

Too much alcohol can also send your
imagination into overdrive. Mine didn't need much encouragement to
picture all the gruesome ways I could die, and the doorbell didn't
help. Hopefully it was only a Jehovah's Witness, out to bore me,
not beat me senseless.

Gina's apartment was located in a leafy,
quiet suburb. The building was so old, it didn't have a buzzer on
the ground floor and anyone could climb the two flights of stairs
to her front door. Anyone.

I peeped through the peep hole, my heart in
my throat. But the person on the other side wasn't the one I
expected. Then again, I'd expected to see Grimes, Mad Max or
Roberta wielding something dangerous to my health. Boy was I glad
to see Scarface. I opened the door and hugged him.

Startled, he hesitated before hugging me
back. "If I'd known you'd be this happy to see me, I'd have brought
condoms."

I squeezed him tighter. Not because of the
condom comment—
definitely
not—but because he'd brought
something much more valuable. A voice of reason. I was all out of
that commodity after the three martinis.

"You okay?" he asked, touching my hair.

"No."

He hugged me tighter. "You drunk?"

"Uh-huh."

"Not good, Sweetheart. Alcohol dulls the
senses not the fear."

I drew away. "I'm not afraid of you right
now."

"Were you ever?"

We stepped into the living room. He opened
the curtains and light streamed in. I blanched, but not at the
light. Guess the fear wasn't going away just because I had a macho
cop with me.

"I take it you heard about my little brush
with death," I said.

"Knight told me."

I groaned. I'd assumed Will wouldn't follow
through on his threat to tell Scarface to keep me in the dark, but
apparently he was more controlling that I thought.

"He's got a nerve butting in," I said.

"It is his company. His case,
technically."

I waved my hand. "Semantics. So are you
going to do as he says and not help me?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" He rubbed my arms and
drew me close. "You sure you're okay? Knight said you were pretty
shaken up."

"I was." And so was Will. The murderous look
in his eyes would stay with me forever. "How did he sound when you
spoke to him?"

"Determined to keep you out of danger. He
cares about you, you know."

"If he really cared he'd know I can't walk
away. I don't want to. Even after the accident."

He nodded. "I know. But Knight can't see
that."

"Then he's blind."

Scarface shrugged. "Maybe."

I stepped closer to him and slipped my arms
around his waist. It was a bold move considering we'd done nothing
more than flirt but in my defense, the martinis made me do it.

"But you can see, can't you? You understand
me."

"No man understands the female mind. But
yeah." He rested his arms on my shoulders and played with my hair.
"I know that telling you what to do will achieve zip. And I also
know that Knight's a stupid man if he lets you slip through his
fingers because of a mistake he made many years ago."

I frowned up at him. "You think he's got
unresolved issues about the shooting?"

"How should I know? I barely see the man
anymore."

I moved away and paced the room. What if
Scarface was right after all?
Could
that long-ago accident
still be affecting Will? His decisions, his actions and
motivations? It was possible. Obviously not so much that it made
him vulnerable and weak, but rather cautious and protective.

"He
is
a control freak," I said to
myself.

"So you tell me."

"Especially where his work is
concerned."

A small sigh came from Scarface's direction,
catching my attention.

"I take it that touchy feely stuff back
there was you feeling pissed at Knight."

"Huh? Oh. Sorry."

"Yeah. Me too." He sat on the couch and
stretched out his long legs. I got him a beer and poured myself
another martini. Mixing alcohol with a hunk could be dangerous but
I was willing to risk it. Will wasn't exactly my favorite person at
that moment, so guilt wouldn't be a problem.

And Scarface was sexy with a capital S E X.
His lean, muscular frame molded to the couch but he didn't look as
relaxed as usual. Energy zinged off him like he was made of
electricity. I could feel it. His gaze darted around the room, his
fingers tapped against his knee, and his body tensed at every creak
and groan of the old building.

"Want to check the place out for bugs?" I
asked. "Or maybe bombs?"

His gaze cut to me. "Your friend should
upgrade her security. The front door isn't dead bolted, and the
locks on the windows are so rotten, a strong breeze could open
them. I know some security specialists."

"This is her home, not a prison."

He shrugged. "Just making a suggestion."

"Fucking cops," I muttered under my breath.
He was little better than Will and Dad when it came to wanting to
be in control.

"You say something?" he asked.

"So what else is wrong? Your tension isn't
just from this apartment's lack of security."

"Not a good day at the office, Sweetheart.
Hearing about your fight with the car just topped it off. Get an
ID?"

"Sedan. Dark blue."

He rolled his eyes. "I hope you're a better
investigator than you are a witness."

"Hey, you try reading a license plate number
when you're flat on your back with a fat guy on top of you."

He raised one brow. "Sorry." His tapping
fingers increased their rhythm against his knee. "Can I smoke in
here?"

"I don't think Gina would like it." When the
tapping turned to drumming on the side of the beer bottle, I
couldn't stand it any longer. "You can use the balcony."

Outside, he couldn't remove a cigarette from
its packet quick enough. He lit it with a Zippo and sucked hard,
eyes closed, dragging the smoke into his soul. He savored it like a
fine wine before exhaling slowly. He instantly looked more relaxed.
If smoking could calm him like that, maybe I should take it up.

"Can I try?"

He paused, the cigarette half way to his
mouth, and looked at me. Then he laughed. "Knight would shoot me if
you got a habit."

"No he won't. It'll be my choice."

"He won't see it that way. Anyway, why do
you suddenly want to smoke? Think it looks sexy?" he asked with
that know-it-all grin.