Reckless Endangerment Page 11

  “I made a call to the number we think may be Angel’s from our research into Rourke. I can’t help but wonder how many alarms went off when we started poking around in the guy’s background before the police were even at the crime scene this afternoon.” Devon scooped more spinach dip onto her plate before munching away on a chip.

  “You worry too much.”

  “You don’t worry enough.”

  “Worry is a waste of creative energy.” She grinned and looked up at Devon. “Can you honestly believe the mayor of Denver would be involved in sex parties and human trafficking?”

  “He’s a politician. Just because he’s charming doesn’t mean he isn’t the scum of the earth.” Devon shrugged, her eyes forever observant as she stared across the counter. “Want to tell me about this colonel you keep sneaking off to see this week? What’s up with the Marine from Monday?”

  “You’ve been dying to ask me that question, haven’t you?”

  “Yep, just biding my time until you seemed relaxed.”

  “And I seem relaxed now?” She looked at her friend over the rim of her eyeglasses. “We’re discussing human trafficking and murder and I seem relaxed? That’s a problem, Dev.”

  Outside thunder rocked the sky. Lightening lit up the room. Spring snowstorms came with lightening and thunder. Yep, she was definitely back home in the Mile High City.

  “It is what it is.” Devon shrugged. “You’re a drama-junkie so this stuff gives you a fix. Whatever. Answer my question.”

  She folded the laptop closed and considered what Devon said. She didn’t want to be a drama-junkie, wondered if there was a rehab for such a thing.

  “Seriously? That’s how you think of me?”

  “Stop avoiding the question.” Devon closed her laptop, too. “He’s why you’re here, right? He’s the reason you moved to Denver, bought this gigantic loft? He’s the reason you keep dodging Jensen who’s been dying to get you into bed ever since your plane landed at D.I.A. C’mon. ‘Fess up.”

  “Seems like you know all the answers. There is nothing left for me to confess.” She refilled her coffee, certain that her blood had illegal caffeine content.

  “You want me to beg? I’m begging.” Devon folded her hands like a prayer and batted her eyes. “Tell me something juicy.”

  She looked at her wedding ring and ached to blurt out the truth. What could it hurt to tell one person? “Can you keep a secret?”

  “Not usually, but I’ll try.” Devon looked like an eager puppy about to get a new toy.

  “We’re married. I am technically Hope Cedars.” God, she loved saying that name out loud. “Or at least it would be technically if I file the name change papers but—“

  “Wait, wait, wait…” Devon put her hands out in front of her. “That’s why you asked what name the Marine asked for on Monday. How long have you been married?”

  “Eleven months and two weeks.”

  Devon stared at her as if blindsided. “Almost a year? You were married to him over there? Isn’t that against some rule or something? How’d you do that? How have you kept it a secret? Wasn’t that dangerous...a married Marine with his wife, and not just any wife but a war correspondent...that can’t be legal, can it?”

  “Since when do you care about rules and legalities? Want to see a picture?”

  “Do I want to see a picture? Hell, yeah. Are you kidding me? What? A wedding picture?” Devon stopped staring and started laughing. “You should see your face right now. You look like...well, you look happier than I’ve ever seen you. Yes, I want to see wedding pictures of you and your Marine.”

  Feeling like a silly teenager, she jogged barefoot into the bedroom to retrieve her copy of the Greek pictures. Laughing, she handed them to Devon.

  “Stunning,” Devon whispered as she examined the photographs. “You all look so happy. Where were you?”

  “Mykonos, Greece. He had a week’s leave…we were spontaneous.” She held her left hand to show off the ring. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  Devon’s mouth fell open as she looked between the ring and the photograph. “So you’re going public with this now? Why now? After so long? I can’t believe you’re married. You have a husband. God, I’ve got to meet this guy, he must be a saint to put up with you.”

  “Over there it would have been dangerous for anyone to know I was his wife—he worried about me being kidnapped or killed. And then…” her smile slipped, “…it became more complicated.”

  Devon nodded, understanding in her eyes. “I hope he knows how lucky he is.”

  “Yeah, well, we have a long way to go. Right now he wants a divorce so it’s probably the wrong time for me to be announcing our marriage but...I think he’s lying. I think he wants to come home.” Feeling awkward, she sat back on the stool. “I think the note refers to him…my secret and my weakness.”

  Devon nodded again, her gaze locked on the wedding photo. “It’s not too secure at New Horizons. We need to wrap up this story and have a big party. A welcome home, Colonel and Mrs. Cedars party. An anniversary party. Two weeks from now, right? Let me plan it for you two. How does that sound?”

  “Let’s take it one day at a time. Right now he doesn’t know what he wants. Maybe I don’t either. What do I know about being anyone’s wife?” She looked at her cell phone and sighed. Time to go.

  Both lost in their individual thoughts, they left the loft and made their way to the street where Devon had parked her car. Wind howled, thunder clapped and snow swirled beneath street lamps. Hope shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket and wished she’d changed from the dress into jeans.

  “City Park in a snow storm complete with thunder. Spooky.” Devon maneuvered the car from the curb. “Tell me about your husband.”

  “Not much to tell,” she muttered.

  “Liar. C’mon. I’ve seen his picture. Yummy.” Devon smacked her lips. “You never tell me any of the juicy stories…and everyone knows there had to be juicy stories.”

  “Oh really?” She tapped her finger on her iPhone and laughed. “You do know I wasn’t on vacation over there, right?”

  “Save the bullshit for someone who doesn’t know you better. Tell me. Was the sex hot with the Colonel?”

  “Michael.” She smiled and relaxed against the seat. “And, yes, the sex was hot. Scorching.”

  “I knew it.” Devon tossed back her head and laughed. “Tell me more.”

  “He’s the sexiest man on the planet and an arrogant jerk sometimes. He has a little boy named Dalton. Very cute.”

  “So you’re a step-mom, too. This keeps getting better. And how is his recovery going?”

  Smile faded. “A conversation for another day, Dev.”

  “Gotcha. I wish I knew more about what happened to you over there.” Devon gave her a sidelong glance. “You can confide in people, you know. You have more friends than you think you do. Not all of us think you’re an egotistical hot shot.”

  “Gee thanks.” She laughed and stretched her legs out in front of her. “Good to know, Dev. Really.”

  “So he’s hot, huh? How hot?”

  “Lava hot. Molten.”

  “Mm…and why isn’t he in outpatient therapy then? I know I would want my molten, lava hot husband living with me in my gigantic loft so I could give him some rub downs after a long day of physical therapy.”

  Both laughed at the direction their conversation had taken.

  “Rub downs?” The idea of her hands moving over his skin again had her squirming in her seat.

  “Mm…yes, rub downs.”

  “Okay, let’s change the subject.” She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to shake of the memory of his kiss, of the feel of his hard body beneath her hands. “So what’s in City Park, do you think? And Fiddlesticks Tavern? That seems like a weird place for money to be trading places for anything except a pool game.”

  “It all screams trouble to me.” Devon asked as she pulled into a parking lot in City Park.

  “Becky the Downe
r would be very satisfied to know what I’m up to at this very minute.” She looked at the quiet neighborhood surrounding the park. “The real question is who is leading us around? I don’t like the anonymity. It’s getting old.”

  No other vehicles occupied the lot behind the Museum of Nature and Science where they had been told to meet. The downtown skyline illuminated sparkled through the falling snow.

  She tapped her fingers on her knee and stared toward the park. Even though she couldn’t see anyone, her instincts told her to leave, chalk this one up as a waste of time.

  “There.” Devon pointed to a man walking from the lake at the center of the park. “Looks like he’s coming our way. Should we—”

  Two men in ski masks tapped a gun against the closed windows.

  “Fuck,” Devon said before her door was yanked open and she was hauled out against her will.

  She froze. She couldn’t breathe. Hands grabbed her shoulders and dragged her from the car. The butt of a gun slammed into her face. She fell only to be hauled back against the side of the car. Blood trickled into her mouth. Fat spring snowflakes fell into her eyes.

  “You need to find a new job, Ms. Shane.” Hands in her hair, he twisted her neck back until she looked at him. “Mind your own business. Don’t you have a crippled husband to worry about? A stepson about to be taken from the only family he’s ever known? A few nephews who love playing in Washington Park with their babysitter? Maybe family should be your priority instead of sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

  “You don’t scare me. No way I’m stopping now. No way.” She spit blood into his mask-covered face. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

  “Neither do you.” He wore sunglasses over the holes in the ski mask, gloves on his hands. All black. He pressed his knee between her legs. “I can get to you any time I want. I can do whatever I want to you.”

  He held the gun to her forehead, caressed it across her face, down her neck, between her breasts, slipped it beneath the hemline of her skirt

  “Bastard,” she muttered between clenched teeth. “You don’t scare me.”

  Blood trickled in front of her eyes.

  “I could kill you.” Hot breath warmed her neck where he lingered. “Or rape you. Or both. I could do anything to you, Ms. Shane. Or should I say Mrs. Cedars?”

  “My husband could kill you with his bare hands. Remember that.”

  “Delusional and beautiful. A shame to waste all that.”

  He licked the side of her face. He ripped the neckline of her shirt and squeezed her breast until she cried out in pain. Then he tossed her to the pavement. Two kicks to her side and he was gone.

  She spit blood. Every inch of her shook. With all of the will she possessed, she stumbled against the hood of the car. Squinting, she tried to see where they had gone. Empty parking lot. Snow filled up the footprints.

  “Devon.” She clung to the car for balance and stumbled to the driver’s side. Her friend lay in a heap, blood staining the snow beneath her head. “No, no, Devon. C’mon now.” She held her friend’s face in her lap and stroked her hair back. “You’ll be okay. You’ve got to be okay.”

  She shook her head when images of Peter’s head bursting open in front of her filled her mind. She had knelt over him, too, spitting bits of his hair from her mouth, and pushing his skull together while machine gun fire had ripped into the ground at her heels.

  She blinked. That was then. This was now. Devon, not Peter.

  Blood ran down her face from the gash above her eyebrow. She pressed her fingers to it and fought off the nausea that rose in her throat. Weak, almost as if she had no control of her limbs any longer, she crawled back into the car and fumbled for her cell phone.

  Her hands shook violently. She dropped the phone twice before managing to hold it steady enough to dial 9-1-1. Yes, they definitely had an emergency.

  Chapter Nine

  He blinked his eyes open. Instinct told him someone else was in the room with him, not that he’d been alone for any length of time for months. He propped up on his elbows and squinted through the darkness toward the windows illuminated by moonlight.

  Hope stood there, her silhouette clearly recognizable. Hip against the window, head bowed, moonlight shimmering in her hair.

  “Hope?” he asked, wondering briefly if he was still dreaming.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered, voice scratchy.

  “No? Then why are you lurking around in the dark?” He reached for the bedside lamp. She stopped him with a hand on his wrist. “What’s going on? What time is it?”

  “So many questions.” She sat on the edge of his bed, face concealed by shadow and hair. “Can’t I sneak into your room in the middle of the night if I want? You used to sneak into mine all of the time. Consider it payback.”

  He dropped back onto his pillow and sighed. She could sneak anywhere as far as he was concerned, even though he couldn’t admit that yet. The energy zapping off of her was palpable--no wonder he’d woken up.

  She reached out and traced the tattoo on his chest--an eagle’s wings with the words “death before dishonor” furled into the feathers wrapped around a knife piercing the globe. She’d always said that tattoo turned her on, had been her first clue that he hadn’t been as uptight as she’d initially thought. Her simple act reminded him of everything he’d missed about her...especially this quiet, affectionate side that few people ever saw.

  “You’re physical therapy is bringing out some stellar muscles, babe. The sight of your naked chest has me salivating.” Her fingers traced each word of the tattoo.

  He caught her hand and held it flat against his chest. “I guess some things haven’t changed with us, have they? We’ve always had amazing chemistry.”

  She slipped her hand away. “I’m going away for a few days, laying low, so you won’t see me around here. Don’t take it personally. I know how you are now...temperamental is an understatement so...don’t use my absence as an excuse to be a jerk.”

  “Since when do you lay low?” He scooted up to sitting, but respected her wish to keep the light off. “What happened with your source tonight?”

  She stood and walked back toward the window. For the first time, he noticed she wore hospital scrubs. She hugged her arms around her chest, keeping her profile to him.

  “Do you love me, Michael? I really need to know...no bullshit this time. Do you regret marrying me?” she asked so quietly he had to strain to hear her.

  “What’s happening?” He finally caught a glimpse of the clock radio: 3:33 AM. “Did you feel the need to check on me? I’m fine. Really.”

  “I know you are.” She walked stiffly to the chair in the corner and sat down, moving from the moonlight into shadow. It looked like she was wearing medical scrubs, but that didn’t make sense. “It went well then? Your meeting with Warren and Becky about the custody issue?”

  “Why are you dressed like that?” he asked, remembering the dress she’d worn earlier. “Why are you here?”

  “When I first saw you, I thought you were a typical, play-by-the-rules-no-sense-of -humor military type. Peter didn’t like you either, thought you were a real son of a bitch with a stick up your ass.” She grabbed the wooden box and toyed with the lid.

  “Heartwarming memory. Thanks for sharing.” He leaned back on the pillow and watched her fingers flip the lid open. He held his breath, suddenly wondering if she’d been snooping while he’d been sleeping.

  He doubted she was here in the middle of the night for small talk. He squinted at her outline and wondered how long she’d been here. He shoved a restless hand through his hair, gaze fixed on the wooden box.

  “The first time you sneaked into my room, you were there to chew me out for something...I don’t remember what specifically, I tended to tune out reprimands.” Tap, tap went her finger on the lid of the box. “But as you were on fire with your lecture, I thought, hmm...he just broke the rules by sneaking in here. He must be into m
e. I wasn’t the only reporter who hated you, but I was the only one who got under your skin enough for you to break into my room.”

  “I don’t remember the door being locked.” He smiled. Yeah, she’d definitely been the only one to get under his skin. “And you didn’t hate me...you resented me but I never got the hate vibe from you.”

  She replaced the box onto the table before moving around the room again, her gait stiff and awkward in the dark.

  “What’s going on? It’s the middle of the night and you’re obviously not here to chew me out or jump my bones.”

  “You seem very mellow,” she whispered, arms crossed and profile to him as she paced. “Are you medicated? Heavily? How are your reflexes?”

  “My what?” He adjusted the pillow behind him before folding his arms across his chest. Although she’d never fit any kind of mold, her behavior was definitely bordering on crazy.

  “Your reflexes. It took you a long time to realize someone was in your room.”

  “I’m used to people being in my room...usually nurses poking me.”

  “That’s not good, is it? You need to be more alert.”

  “Why on earth do I need to be more alert?” He laughed before realizing that she was seriously concerned about how long it had taken him to wake up. “What happened with your source earlier? Why won’t you come close to me or let me turn on the light?”

  “Do you love me?”

  Again with that question, asked more matter-of-fact then challenging, though.

  “Why are you wearing those clothes? Why are you here in the middle of the night asking me ridiculous questions?” His heart twisted in his chest at how alone she looked in those baggy scrubs with her hair down and hiding in the darkness. “What’s going on?”

  “That’s not an answer.” Her laugh lacked humor. “Then again, maybe it is an answer but I’m just unwilling to hear it.”

  “I love you,” he admitted on a sigh. “I’m just not certain that we’re good for each other now.”