Risking Trust (18 page)

“I knew what you meant, Rox.” He leaned back into his pillow and propped a hand behind his head. “Why don’t you get some capital to keep you afloat? Can’t you dip into your credit line?”

“It’s maxed out. My father, unbeknownst to me, used it to pay for the new presses that won’t be ready until next year.”

“He used the whole thing?”

Michael hadn’t bothered to mask his surprise. She couldn’t blame him. She’d had the same reaction when the bank informed her there was no available credit.

“The whole thing.”

He shook his head, but stayed silent.

“I’ve thought about trying to find outside investors, but I’m not ready yet. I have some other ideas.” Going without a salary was one. By industry standards her salary was low, but it would be enough to save a few clerk positions.

“You could always reduce your workforce.”

“Absolutely not. Some of those people have been at the
Banner
for twenty years. I’ll figure something out.”

Michael shifted to his side and ran a hand over her hip. Taking pleasure in his hands being on her, she realized she had fantasized about this—relaxing in bed, ruminating over day to day life—and here they were. Talking business.

Somehow, it seemed right. Not many people understood her work issues. She could complain to Janie, but Janie had no frame of reference. Talking to her staff would be catastrophic. She didn’t need the male executives thinking the lady publisher couldn’t handle the job. And Max, he’d just lecture her.

Roxann lounged back into her pillow and smiled. Despite her grief and stress, her battered mind enjoyed this reprieve and she gave herself permission to savor it. No analyzing every word or touch. Just a conversation that eased her burdens.

She glanced at the mostly naked Michael as he studied the olives.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re cute.”

“Men don’t want to be cute, Rox.”

But he was, and this whole episode brought her shameless joy. What a concept. She didn’t believe in happily ever after. Not anymore. No relationship could survive all the roadblocks they would face. She’d enjoy it while she could though.

Michael tugged on a strand of her hair. “How about I have a couple of my guys look into your pressroom problem? See if they can come up with anything.”

“Look into it how?”

He pushed his hand through her hair, and then did it again. “I can’t promise anything, but some people don’t like talking to cops. I, unfortunately, have experience with that and sometimes it blows.”

She knew he’d been questioned by the police again and assumed they were keeping tabs on him. She didn’t want to acknowledge the idea that the police knew he was with her at this very moment.

“Are they harassing you?”

“Let’s not talk about it. I’m in a good mood.”

She understood. “Is my hair a mess? You keep playing with it.”

He shrugged. “It’s a good mess. Wicked sexy. I hate that you wear it back all the time.”

That got her attention. She used to only wear her hair back when she ran. That changed twelve years ago when she became a neurotic control freak who needed everything in its proper place.

“It’s easier. Plus, I’m surrounded by men all day and I want them looking at me like a publisher, not a wicked sexy blonde.”

“So, maybe outside the office you could wear it down once in awhile?”

There was a thought she hadn’t entertained in years. Now that he’d posed the question, she’d have to decide if she’d do it simply because he requested it. Was she ready to change her habits because he’d asked her to?

Absolutely not.

“Maybe,” she replied, knowing she was a complete fool who would surely give in because this was Michael, her Michael, and heaven help her, she got a thrill every damn time he came around.

Roxann slept. Michael watched her chest rise and fall with each quiet breath and thought maybe he could sleep too, right here next to her.

A few hours earlier, he’d have never guessed the night would end with the two of them in bed. So much for taking it slow, but he’d be damned if he’d complain. In the past, emotional ups and downs got his engines fired, but after his crappy marriage and his responsibilities to his family, he wanted peace of mind. Why couldn’t his life ever be bland?

She snuggled closer and he rested his cheek on her head. He could do this every day. No problem. Whether or not he deserved it, he didn’t care. He wanted this. His gut told him Roxann wanted it too, but she’d fight it. He’d have to convince her and that might take some time. Time he didn’t have.

They had to find that intern and fast. The kid might know something that could point the cops in the right direction. His family and friends didn’t deserve the scrutiny that went with him being a murder suspect. And hell, he wanted his freedom and a shot at a life with Roxann. If she’d have him.

Why the hell had he married Alicia? He knew the anti-Roxann theory had become the driving force behind the relationship. Not that it had been fair on his part, but it made sense at the time.

Alicia had yearned for Roxann’s class and style, but didn’t have the heart to pull it off. Sure, he’d been enthralled with Alicia’s wit and adventurous spirit, but marrying her had been a mistake. She proved to be too high-maintenance and constantly needed attention. In the end, she’d turned to other men to satisfy her cravings for male interest and he’d stopped caring. A wasted marriage.

Roxann’s hand moved across his chest and he glanced at her.

“Go to sleep, Michael. Whatever it is, it’ll wait until tomorrow.”

She’d known he was awake, thinking too much, and he smiled. Yeah, sleep sounded good. He scooted down, snuggled closer to her and closed his eyes.

Tomorrow they’d search for Bryce Cooper.

“Rise and shine, gorgeous. We got an intern to track.”

Roxann opened her eyes and the sun peeking through the drapes framed Michael’s wet hair. Morning. Already. He must have taken a shower. “What?”

The sheet came flying off.

“Let’s go, Mary Sunshine. Vic is meeting us in half an hour and I need to stop home for clean clothes.”

She pulled the sheet up. “What time is it?”

“Eight o’clock.”

Eight
o’clock. She shot up to a sitting position bringing the sheet with her. “I missed my run.”

Michael pulled his watch off the bedside table and strapped it on. “You were sleeping.”

She flopped back into the pillows. “I’m still sleeping.” She’d already missed her run, she might as well sleep. Call it a sick day. She did own the place. And hadn’t Mrs. Mackey been bugging her to take a day off? Well, that’s what she’d do. Call it orgasm induced exhaustion.

He leaned over, braced his hands by her hips. “Honey, I almost woke you up the way I used to, but I took pity because you were so tired. I promise, if we find this intern and he’s got something, I’ll let you sleep for a month.” The sheet was gone again. “Now, get up.”

An hour later, Roxann knocked on Bryce Cooper’s door while Vic stood behind her with his stupid I-know-what-you-did-last-night grin. She imagined spinning on him and kicking him in the shins. Just letting him have it.

“No one’s home,” she said when the front door remained closed.

Vic laughed. “No shit, Sherlock.”

He backed up a few steps, gave the house a once over. Roxann did the same.

The two story duplex sat on a tree-lined street located in Harwood Heights, a suburb northwest of the city. The house, similar to the others on the block, needed fresh paint and new screens, but the yards were tidy and the neighborhood appeared safe. Quiet too. Roxann marveled at the lack of traffic on the street.

She turned to Vic. “What’re you thinking?”

“I’m thinkin’ I’m gonna go in and have a look.”

Her throat swelled. “
What?
”

“Chill, sister.”

Michael drove around the block to scope out the back of the house. Vic sat next to him, his gaze darting along the opposite side of the street.

“You cannot break into that house.” Roxann’s voice carried the quiver of strained nerves. “What if we were followed? How do you know the police aren’t watching?”

“We weren’t followed. We’ll just look around.”

“Besides,” Vic added. “We’re not
breaking
in.” He held up a small tool. “We’re unlocking the door without the key.”

Roxann stuck her face between the front bucket seats. “It’s daylight. You’ll get caught. What then? Especially given your current circumstances.”

Vic snorted. “You don’t think it’s a good idea for us to get caught when Mike’s up to his nuts with people thinkin’ he killed his ex?”

She smacked him on the back of the head. “It’s not funny.”

“Ouch. Fuck.” He turned and speared her with a look. “That hurt.”

“Well—”

“Quiet down,” Michael said between gritted teeth. “Let me think a minute.”

How was a man supposed to think with all the damned chatter? He did a U-turn at the end of the block, cruised by the back of the house one more time and turned right, moving in the opposite direction. He needed to find a busy place to park so they didn’t attract any nosy people. And stupid ass that he was, they should have taken Vic’s car because of that damned GPS the P.D. planted. Busy place to park. That’s what he needed. Then he and Vic would walk back to Bryce’s.

“Thank God,” Roxann said, but her relief was thwarted when Michael pulled into a McDonald’s parking lot around the corner.

“Okay, Rox,” he said. “You wait with the car.”

He jerked his head toward Vic and got the hell out before she could argue.

“Wait.” She climbed over the console into the front seat. “How long will you be? What if you get caught?”

Michael leaned one arm over the doorframe. They’d never been caught. Those words weren’t in their vocabulary. “Give us thirty minutes and then go home.”

“Go
home
?”

“If we get busted no one will know you were here. It’ll be on me and Vic.” He stepped back and shut the door before she could respond. Because surely she would respond.

Go home.

Roxann understood Michael trying to keep her out of it, but going home while they were carted to jail didn’t seem right.

“What am I doing here?” What a nightmare.

Michael Taylor, Mr. Chaos. So much for her boring life. Here she was riding shotgun on a B&E. Max would love this. Her nerves were already fried
and
she might have to drive Michael’s tank of a car. She’d never driven anything bigger than her four-door BMW, but she’d manage. Even if it meant bouncing the SUV off parked cars, or anything else that crossed her path, she’d get it done.

She opened the window halfway and turned the engine off. No sense wasting gas and the crisp, fresh air would calm her down.

Part of her couldn’t help being revved up. A solid lead. All they had to do was find Bryce Cooper.

It had been an interesting twenty-four hours: Bedlam at the newspaper, sex with the long lost love of her life,
and
aiding in her first criminal act. Not bad for a girl whose most recent adventure had been a trip to the hair salon.

Roxann waited an intolerable ten minutes, yearning for a cup of coffee, but too chicken to leave the car. What if they came tearing back with someone giving chase and she was in Mickey D’s getting coffee? Sorry, hon. Needed my caffeine fix.

The digital clock on her phone clicked off another six minutes and, blowing out a breath, she closed her eyes. Four more minutes and she had instructions to leave. Maybe she’d give them another five just to be sure.

Thunk
.

What the heck? She turned to look over her left shoulder. A policeman, all of twelve-years-old, parked behind her and stepped up to the driver’s side door.

They got caught. Suddenly she had to pee. Quite badly.

Keep it together, Rox
.

Play dumb.

She counted to ten and took a breath. “Hi, Officer—” she glanced at his name tag, “—Bramble. Is there a problem?”

The cop smiled. “Your gas cap was open.”

Whoosh.
She eased a breath out. Michael, in a rush to gas up that morning, had forgotten to close the gas cap door. Roxann laughed and smacked her palm against her head.

“Dope,” she said, making the cop laugh.

He peeked through the half open window into the back seat. “Everything okay?”

“Fine. I’m, uh, waiting for someone.” Not a lie.

Bramble’s gaze roamed along her body and Roxann instinctively folded her hands over her crotch. Ick. She swallowed hard. How incredibly rude of this cop, on duty, in full uniform, to put the moves on her. And worse, Michael and Vic would be strolling up at any second.

The cop smiled that oily smile again. “How about I buy you a cup of coffee while you wait?”

Roxann checked the rearview mirror. “Oh, well, thank you, but my friend should be here any time.”

Where were they and did she really want them walking up to the car with a cop standing here?

The cop leaned against the car.
Great, now he’s getting comfortable
.

“Your friend can look inside for you.”

Okay, creepy man, time to go
.

Not waiting for her answer, he reached for the door.
Dammit.
Now she’d have to get mean about it. A loud hammering began in her head and she grabbed for the door, but too late, he had it open, waiting for her to step out.

“What the hell?” Michael asked, grabbing Vic’s arm and bringing him to a halt. They had just crossed the four lane roadway heading back to the car when he spotted the cop opening Roxann’s door.

“Holy shit.”

The blood rush hit as Michael mentally fired off scenarios. Maybe she knew the guy? Maybe the cop recognized the car and thought Michael was in it? Maybe it was a friend of Max’s? Maybe…maybe he had no fucking idea, other than it had nothing to do with what he and Vic had just done or they’d be in handcuffs.

He hustled toward the car, slowing down before he got too close. Who needed to get shot by a startled cop?

He stepped up to the car, saw a crazy-eyed Roxann—jeez, she looked freaked—or maybe pissed. Not sure. “Hey, Rox. Sorry, we’re late.”

Michael, forcing himself to stay calm, turned to the cop. “What’s up?”

Popping out of the car, Roxann pecked Michael on the lips, but her eyes were wide open, silently begging him to focus on her.

“We were chatting,” she said. “
I
left the gas cap door open and the officer closed it for me.”

Nerves had carved a tightness into her face and he squeezed her hand.
Stay cool, Rox
. “Goofball.”

Fwak.
Vic smacked his hands together. “Hey, I’m starved. Who’s ready to eat? Officer, can we buy you some breakfast?”

Vic worked the Mr. Congeniality angle to get rid of this cop, but the guy took a lingering look at Roxann and, like a gut punch, Michael got that this fucker was hitting on her.

“No, thanks,” the cop said. “I’m just getting coffee.”

“Coffee it is then. I’m buying.” Vic took off toward the restaurant and dragged the cop with him.

Michael hung back. “We’ll meet you in there.”

Roxann collapsed into the driver’s seat and smacked his arm. “You left the gas cap open. How could you do that? Do you know how nervous I was?”

What’s with the smacking? He backed up a step in case she decided to hit him again. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, no kidding. At first, I thought you got caught and then I realized that creep was trying to pick me up. Ew.”

“I should crack that guy’s skull.”

“Hey,” she said, “focus. You’re here now and I want to leave. I’m so creeped out I need another shower.” She shuddered. “I wish he were Chicago P.D. I’d have his butt in a sling for using his uniform to pressure women.”

Michael took a breath, tried not to think about that asshole’s hands on Roxann. What the hell was wrong with him? Bad enough he’d gotten her wrapped up in Alicia’s murder to the point where she was taking fire from all sides. He’d have to work harder to keep her insulated. The selfish part of him loved having her back in his life and he didn’t want to lose that.

He leaned into the car, ran his fingers along her chin. “I’m sorry about this. I never thought…” He shook his head. “Forget it. I’m sorry. Slide over while I get Mr. Hospitality back here.” He pulled out his phone. “You want anything?”

Roxann climbed over the console into the passenger’s seat. “Only for you to tell me you found something.”

“It’s his place. Looks like he’s got a couple of roommates. He’s working at a Jewel not far from here. We’ll go see if he’s there.”

“How do you know he’s working at the Jewel?”

“Vic found some paperwork in his desk.”

Roxann flopped her bottom lip out. “He went from the mayor’s office to a supermarket? That’s a little odd.”

“Jewel has a lot of employees,” Michael said. “Easy to get lost.”

It seemed getting lost was exactly what Bryce Cooper wanted to do. They just needed to find out why.