Perfect Victim, The (14 page)

Tossing the spent matc
h i
nto the fire
,
she turned and contemplated her guest
.
He was not handsome in the conventional sense. There was a roughness in his appearance, an uncouthness in his manner
,
a vague restlessness in the way he moved
.
He was baseline male with a mouth that was too harsh and a nose as crooked as his smile
.
But his eyes
,
she
decided, took command of a face that was less than perfect. They were striking, expressive pools of onyx that saw too much and divulged too little. Dangerous eyes that could slash as effortlessly as they caressed.

Remembering her initial response to him that day in his office, she felt a ripple of heat and immediately attributed it to the fire. She wasn't a sexual creature by nature. Surely it was trauma and fatigue that had her thinking of intimate caresses on such a terrible night. Randall Talbot was the last man on earth she'd ever have any interest in. Unless, of course, it was to fix her washing machine or change the oil in her car.

Addison made her way into the galley-style kitchen. It was nearly three A.M. and she was fading fast. Her hands trembled as she spooned coffee into the filter. She tried not to think about the shooting or the damage that had been done to her shop, but the images came at her out of the shadows like graphic film clips. She closed her eyes, trying to shut them out, but they continued to burst forth in her mind's eye. Brilliant images. Cold, colorless terror. The knowledge that death had all but whispered her name. She heard the sickening, tinny thud of the bullets as they penetrated the front of the bar. She saw clearly the gunman's eyes, the way he'd stared at her through the ski mask as he'd aimed the gun and fired. She'd seen murder in those eyes.

"Does this lawyer friend of yours have any more documents in his possession?"

Addison started when Randall came through the saloon doors. "Don't sneak up on me like that," she said irritably.

"Sorry." He raised the papers. "Are these all the documents you have?"

Frowning, she shoved it cup of coffee toward him. Her heart was still in her throat, and it took a moment before she could speak. "I don't know. Jim might have more information at his office, but he told me I had everything I needed."

He accepted the cup and sipped. "You got anything stronger than coffee?"

Addison stared at him, the memory of his drunkenness on the day they'd met flashing quickly through her mind. "If you're going to be working for me, I'd prefer if you didn't drink."

He choked out a laugh. "Oh, for chrissake."

"I'm serious."

"What's the matter, Ace? Worried I'll lose control and ravage your body?"

Despite the cool intensity of his gaze
,
she didn't look away.

"I'll let you know if I get the urge," he said.

"
I don't appreciate the innuendo
.
"

"I don't appreciate the insinuation
.
"

"I merely asked you not to drink while you're on the job
.
That's not an unreasonable request, is it?"

His jaw flexed. "You think I have a drinking problem, and that pisses me off."

"I didn't say that
.
"

"You were thinking it
.
"

"I was thinking about how you acted that day in your office. Frankly, I
'
m not up to another round
.
"

One side of his mouth curved into a humorless smile. "Don't worry, I
'
m not going to pull a Jekyll and Hyde on you. What you see is what you get
.
"

That was what worried her. "I have the right to know who I'm dealing with."

"I'm the man who saved your ass tonight
.
" His eyes flashed darkly
.
''That's all you need to know
.
"

Intuition told her to back off. She stared at him a moment longer, then turned away and walked into the dining room
.

Randall met her there a moment later
.
"Look, I'm sorry
.
"
Not meeting her gaze, he reached for his parka draped over the back of the chair.
'
'This isn't working out
—
"

"
You're leaving?" To her utter dismay, and for the first time in her adult life, she was afraid to be alone.

"
No hard feelings. I was out of line just now. Bad habit
of mine. If you still want someone to look into this for you, I'll have Jack call—”

"I don't want Jack."

"Don't let the wheelchair fool you—”

"The wheelchair doesn't matter."

"He's good at what he does."

"I want you," she blurted.

The words hung between them like a thunderhead. His fingers closed around the parka, but he didn't pick it up. Addison saw his inner struggle clearly, but she didn’t understand it.

Scowling, he cut her a hard look. "Why?"

She met his gaze levelly. "You saved my life."

"Don't discount your instincts about me," he said darkly. "They're probably not far off the mark."

"Right now my instincts are reminding me you nearly took a bullet for me."

Surprise flashed in his eyes before he could shutter it. "Don't make something out of this that isn't there. I was in the right place, at the right time—”

"And I'd be dead right now if you hadn't been.”

His harsh expression faltered, and for a moment he looked uncomfortable. She wondered why it was so hard for him to accept her gratitude.

"If you're looking for a hero, you've got the wrong man," he growled.

"Look," she began, "I'd like to hire you. I want you to look into my birth mother's murder." Starkly aware of his nearness, the faint scent of his aftershave, Addison pulled out a chair and sat down at the dining room table. "I want you to make sure the local sheriff is doing his job."

Never taking his eyes from her, he took the chair opposite her. "You don't know anything about me."

"All right. Then I'll just ask you a few questions." Trapped beneath his gaze, she felt a moment of awkwardness, not quite sure how to proceed with an impromptu interview. "How long have you been a private detective?"

"Now you're going to
interview
me?" he asked incredulously.

"I thought since I'm going to hire you I should get some background information." When he merely stared at her, she added, "That's usually how it's done, isn't it?"

"What's it going to be, Ace. Do you want me or not?"

"I already said I did
.
" She swallowed. "How long have you been a P
.
I.?"

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, for crying out loud."

"How long?"

"All right, dammit." He shifted
i
n the chair
.
"About five years
.
"

"How long have you been with Talbot Investigations?"

"Five years
.
"

"Do you solve most of your cases?"

"Most of them aren't a matter of being solved, but merely gathering information."

"I see
.
"

"It pays the bills. Well
,
most of them, anyway. Do you mind if we get down to business now?"

"I'm ready when you are."

He looked down at the file and opened
i
t
.
"How long had you been searching for your birth parents?"

She sighed
,
relieved that they were back on business.
"
A little over nine months
.
"

"Did you know them at all?"

"I was adopted at birth
.
"

"
Anything in particular prompt your search?"

"I dabbled at first
.
" Aware that he was watching her, she reminded herself that the pain wasn't as acute as it used to be
. "
Then my parents were killed in a car accident
.
After their deaths, finding my birth parents became a lot more important to me
,
and I started searching in earnest
.
"

He leaned back in his ch
a
i
r
, studying he
r
.
"
So, your lawyer helped you find your biological mother way up in Siloam Springs, Ohio
.
When you get up there
,
you find out she's been murdered."

She nodded.

"When you get back here, some crazed robber in black shoots up your shop, tries to kill you, then forgets to take the bank bag."

An eerie sense of foreboding snaked through her. She shivered with a sudden chill. "Yes."

"Do you know who your biological father is?"

"I ran into a dead end searching for my birth father. He wasn't named on my amended birth certificate. The court documents were sealed at the time of my adoption."

"Is that typical?"

"The only way Jim—my lawyer—was able to find my mother was through birth records." The image of Agnes Beckett's tiny mobile home flashed in her mind's eye. "She was ... poor. Her standing in the community wasn't the best. I want to make sure her case gets the attention it deserves."

"You want someone to light a fire under the local cops asses."

"Well, yes."

He closed the file, then gazed at her steadily. "I'll do it.”

Addison returned his gaze, relief and a newfound sense of rightness settling over her. "Thank you."

"I'll need the rest of the documents from your lawyer."