Loved You First Page 25

  “Take off.”

  Bobby moved his shoulders again, smirked. “The coffee’s lousy here, anyway.” He flicked a glance at Bess. “Next time, sweetheart.”

  Alex waited ten humming seconds after the door swung shut. Without a word, he stalked over to Bess and grabbed her by the arm and hustled her out the door.

  “Look, if this is a knight-in-shining-armor routine, I appreciate it, but I don’t need rescuing.”

  “You need a straitjacket.”

  With murder in his heart, he dragged her half a block.

  “In the car,” he snapped, opening the back door of the patrol car.

  “A cab would be—”

  He swore, put a hand on her head and shoved her into the back seat.

  Resigned, Bess settled back. “Hi, Judd,” she said as he took his place in the passenger seat in front. “How’s Holly?”

  “Great, thanks.” He slanted a look toward his partner. “Ah, she really had a good time at your place.”

  “I’m glad. We’ll have to do it again.” Alex whipped out into traffic with enough force to have her slamming back against the seat. Without missing a beat, Bess crossed her legs. “Am I allowed to ask where we’re going, or is this another bust?”

  “I should be taking you to Bellevue, where you belong,” Alex responded. “But I’m taking you home.”

  “Well, thanks for the lift.”

  His eyes flashed to hers in the rearview mirror. Her face was still flushed, and her irises were a sharp enough jade to slice to the bone, but she looked more miffed than upset. Miffed, he thought with a snort. Stupid word. It fit her perfectly.

  “You’re an idiot, McNee. And, like most idiots, you’re dangerous.”

  “Oh, really?” She scooted up in the seat so that she could lean between him and Judd. “Just how do you figure that, smart guy?”

  “Not only do you go back down to an area you have no business even knowing about—”

  “Give me a break.”

  “But,” he continued, “you sit there drinking coffee with a hooker, then pick a fight with her pimp. The kind of guy who’d as soon give a woman a black eye as wish her good-morning.”

  Bess poked a finger at his shoulder. “I didn’t pick a fight with anyone, and if I had, it would be my business.”

  “That’s why you’re an idiot.”

  “Hey, Alex, ease off.”

  “Keep out of this,” Alex and Bess snarled in unison.

  “I’m not even here,” Judd mumbled, scooting down in his seat.

  “It so happens I was conducting an interview.” Bess folded her arms on the seat so that she wouldn’t give in to the nasty urge to twist Alex’s ear. “In a public place,” she added. “And you had no right to come bursting in and ruining everything before I’d finished.”

  “If I hadn’t come bursting in, babe, you’d have had your nose broken again.”

  She scowled, wrinkling her undeniably crooked nose. “I can defend my nose, and anything else, just fine.”

  “Yeah, anyone can see you’re a regular amazon. Ow!” He slapped at her hand and swore the air blue when she gave in and twisted his ear. “The minute I get you out of this car, I’m going to—”

  “Uh, Alex?”

  “I told you to keep out of it.”

  “I’m out,” Judd assured him. “But you might want to take a look at the liquor store coming up at nine o’clock.”

  Still steaming, Alex did, then let out a heavy sigh. “Perfect. This makes it perfect. Call it in.”

  Bess watched, wide-eyed, as Judd radioed in an armed robbery in progress, gave their location and requested backup. Before she could shut her gaping mouth, Alex was swinging to the curb.

  “You,” he said, stabbing a finger in her face. “Stay in the car, or I swear I’ll wring your neck.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Bess assured him after she managed to swallow the large ball of fear lodged in her throat. But before the words were out, he and Judd were out of the car and drawing their weapons.

  He’d already forgotten her, she realized as she stared at his profile. Before he and Judd had crossed the street, he’d put on his cop’s mind and his cop’s face. She’d seen hundreds of actors try to emulate that particular look. Some came close, she realized, but this was the real thing. It wasn’t grim or fierce, but flat, almost blank.

  Except for the eyes, she thought with a quick shudder. She’d had only one glimpse of his eyes, but it had been enough.

  Life and death had been in them, and a potential for violence she would never have guessed at.

  In the darkened car, she gripped her hands together and prayed.

  He hadn’t forgotten her. It infuriated him that he had to fight to tuck her into some back corner of his mind. There were innocent people in that store. A man and a woman. He could smell the fear while he was still three yards away.

  But he broke his concentration long enough to glance back and make certain she was staying put.

  He gestured Judd to one side of the door while he took the other. He didn’t have time to worry that the rookie might freeze. Right now they were just two cops, and he had to believe Judd would go with him through the door.

  The 9 mm felt warm in his hand. He’d already identified the weapons of the two perpetrators. One had a sawed-off shotgun, the other a wicked-looking .45. He could hear the woman crying, pleading not to be hurt. Alex ignored it. They would wait for backup as long as they could.

  He shifted just enough to look inside.

  Behind the counter, a woman of approximately sixty stood with her hands at her throat, weeping. A man of about the same age was emptying the cash register as fast as his trembling hands allowed. One of the gunmen grabbed a bottle off a shelf. He ripped off the top and guzzled. Swearing at the old man, he smashed the bottle on the counter and jabbed the broken glass toward his face.

  Alex had seen the look before, and he knew they wouldn’t be content with the money. “We’re going in,” he whispered to Judd. “You go low, go for the one on the right.”

  Pale, Judd nodded. “Say when.”

  “Don’t fire your weapon unless you have to.” Alex sucked in his breath and went through the door. “Police!” In the back of his mind he heard the sirens from the backup as the first gunman swung the shotgun in his direction. “Drop it!” he ordered, knowing it was useless. The woman was already screaming before the first shots were fired.

  The shotgun blew out a bank of fluorescent lights as the force of Alex’s bullet sent the man slamming backward. Alex was getting the second man in his sights when a bullet from the .45 slammed into a bottle inches above his head, spraying alcohol and glass. Judd fired, and stopped being a rookie.

  Slowly, with the same blank look on his face, Alex came out of his crouch and studied his partner. Judd wasn’t pale now. He was green. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” After replacing his weapon, Judd rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. There was a greasy knot in his stomach that was threatening to leap into his throat. “It was my first.”

  “I know. Go outside.”

  “I’m okay.”

  Alex gave him a nudge on the shoulder. His hand remained there a moment, surprisingly gentle. “Go outside anyway. Tell the backup to call an ambulance.”

  Bess was waiting beside the car when Alex came out some twenty minutes later. He looked the same, she thought. Just the same as he’d looked when he walked in. Then he lifted his head and looked at her, and she saw she was wrong.

  His eyes hadn’t looked so tired, so terribly tired, twenty minutes before.

  “I told you to stay in the car.”

  “I did.”

  “Then get back in.”

  Gently she laid a hand on his arm. “Alexi, you made your point. I’ll take a cab. You have things to do.”

  “I’ve done them.” He skirted the car and yanked open the passenger door. She could almost feel his body vibrating, but when he spoke, his voice was firm, sharp. “Get
in the damn car, Bess.”

  She didn’t have the heart to argue, so she crossed over and complied. “What about Judd?”

  “He’s heading to the cop shop to file the report.”

  “Oh.”

  He let the silence hang for three blocks. It hadn’t been his first, but he hadn’t told Judd that the bright, shaky sickness didn’t fade. It only turned inward, becoming anger, disgust, frustration. And you never stopped asking yourself why.

  “Aren’t you going to ask how it felt? What went through my mind? What happens next?”

  “No.” She said it quietly. “I don’t have to ask when I can see. And it’s easy enough to find out what happens next.”

  It wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want her to be understanding, or quietly agreeable, or to turn those damned sympathetic eyes on him. “Passing up a chance for grist for your mill? McNee, you surprise me. Or can’t your TV cop blow away a couple of stoned perps?”

  He was trying to hurt her. Well, she understood that, Bess thought. It often helped to lash out when you were in pain. “I’m not sure I can fit it into any of our scheduled story lines, but who knows?”

  His hands clenched on the wheel. “I don’t want to see you down there again, understand? If I do, I swear I’ll find a way to lock you up for a while.”

  “Don’t threaten me, Detective. You had a rough night, and I’m willing to make allowances, but don’t threaten me.” Leaning back, she shut her eyes. “In fact, do us both a favor and don’t talk to me at all.”

  He didn’t, but when he pulled up at her building, the smoke from his anger was still hanging in the air. Satisfied, she slammed out of the car. She’d taken two steps when he caught up with her.

  “Come here,” he demanded, and hauled her against him. She tasted it, all the violence and pain and fury of what he’d done that night. What he’d had to do. There was no way for her to comfort. She wouldn’t have dared. There was no way for her to protest. She couldn’t have tried. Instead, she let the sizzling passion of the kiss sweep over her.

  Just as abruptly, he let her go. He’d be trembling in a minute, and he knew it. God, he needed… something from her. Needed, but didn’t want.

  “Stay off my turf, McNee.” He turned on his heel and left her standing on the sidewalk.

  CHAPTER 4

  “When it comes to murder,” Bess mused, “I like a nice, quick-acting poison. Something exotic, I think.”

  Lori pursed her lips. “If we’re going to do it, I really think he should be shot. Through the heart.”

  Shifting in her seat at the cluttered table, Bess scooped up a handful of sugared almonds. “Too ordinary. Reed’s a sophisticated, sensuous cad. I think he should go out with more than just a bang.” She munched and considered. “In fact, we could make it a slow, insidious poison—milk a few weeks of him wasting away.”

  “Nagging headaches, dizzy spells, loss of appetite,” Lori put in.

  “And chills. He really should have chills.” Bess steepled her hands and imagined. “He gives this big cocktail party, see. You know how he likes to flaunt his power and money in the faces of all the people he’s dumped on over the years.”

  Lori sighed. “That’s why I love him.”

  “And why millions of viewers love to hate him. If we’re going to take him out, let’s do it big. They’re all there at Reed’s mansion.… Jade, who’s never forgiven him for using her sister for his own evil ends. Elana, who’s agonizing over the fact that Reed will use his secret file, distorting the information to discredit Max.”

  “Mmm…” Getting into the spirit, Lori gestured with her watered-down soft drink. “Brock, who’s furious that with one phone call Reed can upset the delicate balance of the Tryson deal and cost Brock a fortune. And Miriam, of course.”

  “Of course. We haven’t seen nearly enough of her lately. Reed’s self-destructive ex-wife, who blames him for all her problems.”

  “Justifiably,” Lori pointed out.

  “Then there’s Vicki, the woman scorned. Jeffrey, the cuckolded husband.” She grinned. “And the rest of the usual suspects.”

  “Okay. What kind of poison?”

  “Something rare,” Bess mused. “Maybe Oriental. I’ll work on it.” She scribbled a reminder on a notepad. “So they all have a motive for killing him. Even the housekeeper, because he seduced her naive, innocent daughter, then cast her aside. Sometime during the party, we see a glass of champagne. The room’s in shadows. Close-up on a small black vial. A hand pours a few drops into the glass.”

  “We’ll see if it’s a man or woman.”

  “The hand’s gloved,” Bess decided, then realized how ridiculous it would be to wear gloves at a cocktail party. “Okay, okay, we don’t see it at the party. Before. There’s this box, see? This ornately carved wooden box.”

  “And the gloved hand opens it. Candlelight flickers off the glass vial as the hand removes it from the bed of velvet.”

  “That’s the ticket. We’ll cut to that kind of thing three or four times during the week of the party. Let the audience know it’s bad business for somebody.”

  “Meanwhile, Reed’s playing everyone like puppets. Handing out his personal brand of misery, building the pressure to the boiling point, until it explodes on the night of the party.”

  “It’ll be great,” Bess assured her. “Throughout the evening, Reed’s enjoying himself stirring up old fires, poking at sores. Miriam has too much to drink and gets sloppy and shrill. This provides the perfect distraction for our killer to doctor Reed’s champagne. Because it’s slow-acting, the symptoms don’t begin to show right away. We have some fatigue, a little dizziness, some minor pain. Maybe a rash.”

  “I like a good rash,” Lori agreed.

  “By the time he kicks off, it’ll be difficult for the cops to pinpoint the time and place when the poison was administered. We just might have the perfect crime.”

  “There is no perfect crime.”

  Both Bess and Lori glanced toward the doorway. Alex stood there, his hands tucked in his pockets. There was a half smile on his face, a result of his enjoyment at listening to them plotting a murder. “Besides, if your TV cop didn’t figure it out, your viewers would be pretty disappointed.”

  “He’ll figure it out.” Bess reached for another almond as she watched him, her bare feet propped on the chair beside her. Alex discovered that the baggy slacks she wore effectively hid her legs but didn’t stop him from thinking about them. “Did somebody call a cop?” she asked Lori.

  “Not me.” Well aware that three was most definitely a crowd, Lori rose. “Listen, I’ve got to make a call, and I think I’ll run up and peek in on the taping. Nice to see you, Detective.”

  “Yeah.” He shifted so that Lori could get through the door, but he didn’t step inside. Instead, he glanced around, annoyed with himself for feeling so awkward. “Some place,” he said at length.

  Bess’s lips curved. The room was hardly bigger than a closet and windowless. The table where she and Lori worked was covered with books, folders and papers, and dominated by a word processor that was still humming. Besides the table, there was one overstuffed chair, a small couch and two televisions.

  “We call it home,” Bess said, and tilted her head. “So, what brings you down to the dungeons, Alexi?”

  The description was fairly apt. They were in the basement of the building that held the studios and production offices for ‘Secret Sins’ and its network. He shrugged off her question with one of his own. “How long are you in for?”

  “The duration, I hope.” Casually she rubbed the ball of one foot over the instep of the other. “After the last Emmy, they did offer us an upstairs office with a view, but Lori and I are creatures of habit. Besides, who’s going to come down here and peek over our shoulders while we write?” She recrossed her ankles. “Are you off-duty?”

  “I took a couple hours’ personal time.”

  “Oh.” She drew the word out, thinking he looked very appealing when
he was embarrassed. “Should I consider this a personal visit?”

  “Yeah.” He stepped inside, then regretted it. There wasn’t enough room to wander around. “Listen, I just wanted to apologize.”

  It was probably very small of her, Bess thought, but, oh, she was enjoying this. “Generally or specifically?”

  “Specifically.” He shook his head when she held out the bowl of almonds. “After the robbery attempt, when I took you home. I was out of line.”

  “Okay.” She set the bowl down and smiled at him. “We’re dealing with your behavior during the last half hour of the evening.”

  His brows drew together. “Everything I said before that sticks. You had no business doing what you were doing, where you were doing it.”

  “Get back to the apology. I like that better.”

  “I took what I was feeling out on you, and I’m sorry.” Figuring the worst was over, he sat on the edge of the table. “You didn’t react the way I expected.”

  “Which was?”

  “Scared, outraged, disgusted.” He shrugged again. “I don’t usually take women to armed robberies.”

  Now things were getting interesting. “Where do you take them?”

  His gaze locked on hers. He knew when he was being teased, and he knew when it was good-natured. “To dinner, to the flicks, dancing. To bed.”

  “Well, armed robbery is probably more exciting. At least than the first three.” She rose, placed her hands on his shoulders and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “No hard feelings.” When his hands came to her hips and held her in place, she lifted a brow. “Was there something else?”

  “I’ve been thinking about you.”

  “That could be good.”

  His lips twitched. “I haven’t decided that yet. Maybe we could start with dinner.”

  “Start what?”

  “Working our way to bed. That’s where I want you.”

  “Oh.” Her breath came out a little too quickly and not quite steady. It didn’t help that his eyes were calm, amused and very confident. How, she wondered, had their positions been so neatly reversed? “That’s certainly cutting to the chase.”

  “You said once that people in our professions observe people. What I’ve observed about you, McNee, is that you’d probably see through any flowers and moonbeams I might toss at you.”