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Wasn’t she?
A slow swell of bile rose up her throat. She’d signed those papers the day before Granna Hawley died. Sure, she’d been devastated by the loss. Gran was the only person Jessie could ever count on. And then there’d been the funeral arrangements and the impending feud between her father’s side of the family and her mother’s—the former insisting the latter had no business anywhere near the cemetery. It had been a mess, with Jessica slammed right in the center.
But in the middle of it, she knew Wade had signed those divorce papers. The lawyers told her so. The package came in the mail.
She was sure that it had…
The bile hit the back of her mouth and she nearly choked. All these doubts, this was Wade and his games. He’d gotten out of jail and come here just to screw with her. He was only feeding his own sick sense of humor, hoping to get her back for dumping him the moment she’d learned the truth about him.
“We’re divorced,” she said again, this time with more velocity than the last.
“My lawyer says you got almost a hundred thousand dollars from the old woman after taxes. Plus half of that ten thousand you just borrowed.”
Her mouth fell open.
“Yeah, as your husband I know all about your finances.”
“Then you know I don’t have any of that money anymore.”
“No. And you don’t have the five hundred dollars you’d stashed in that black velvet box, either.” He patted his back pocket. “Consider it your first installment.”
He’d been in her apartment?
And if he’d rummaged through the place, how much had he found? She had Granna’s jewelry and Grandpa Hawley’s watch.
Georgia had a diamond ring that belonged to her mother. She cherished that thing. Had Wade found that, too?
She nearly doubled over. If her friend lost anything thanks to that snake, she’d never forgive herself.
“I’m disappointed, Sugar Beane. I came all this way looking for my wife and my money only to find you broke and in bed with another man. Now, what do you think a husband should do about that?”
Clutching the phone so hard she thought it might snap, she repeated through clenched teeth. “You’re not my husband.”
“Oh, yes, I am. And as your husband, you owe me somewheres in the neighborhood of fifty thousand dollars.” He pushed off the fender of the Honda and stood straight, the smile drained from his face and his eyes black as sin. “Get me the money, Sugar Beane, and you can have your divorce.”
“I already have my divorce, and even if I don’t, I don’t have that kind of money. It’s gone. Sunk into my business.”
“Yeah, your momma told me all about that movie star who’s gonna make you famous. I’m looking forward to sharing half your wealth.” Then flashing a grin she could see all the way from the street, he added, “Now, why don’t you come down and share a little of that sweet ass, too? Or am I not as worthy as your fuck buddy?”
She snapped the phone shut then turned it off, not willing to hear anymore.
Wade was wrong. They were divorced. And the moment she got home, she’d find those papers and prove that she had nothing to worry about.
Scattering about the dark space, she went in search of her things. Rick was still sprawled like a stone tablet across his bed, the slow rise of his back the only indication he was still breathing.
Moments ago, she’d been on top of the world, this sexy, chiseled cop sending her to all kinds of heavenly places and leaving her feeling like a queen. And with one phone call, her past had come crashing back, storming through the gates of her new life like an angry mob intent on raping and pillaging everything she’d created.
Clenched fists at her sides, she vowed not to let it happen. She wasn’t sweet, little Sugar Beane anymore, dumb and ignorant and ready to roll over for every con artist who crossed her path. Her tryst with Rick underscored that. Here in California she was an independent, grown woman capable of taking on the world, and no car-stealing felon of an ex-husband was going to topple her now.
For a second, she considered waking up Rick and sending him downstairs to throw Wade back behind bars where he belonged, but she quickly extinguished the thought. It was time she stopped believing anyone would come to her rescue. In her twenty-seven years, Granna Hawley was the only person she’d ever been able to lean on, who’d stood up for her and defended her when she needed someone in her corner. That made one person among a half-dozen family members who should have helped but only disappointed—Wade Griggs being the last in a long line of them.
How she could think a practical stranger would come to her aid only proved she hadn’t yet wised up, so instead of waking him, she quickly threw on her clothes, grabbed her purse and took off out the back alley. She ran up the street, only stopping to call a cab after she was blocks away from Wade and his threats.
She needed to take care of this herself. And as soon as she got home and found the papers she knew were there, she’d succeed in sending Wade Griggs right back to the swill he came from. Doing so would be a message to everyone that Jessica Beane couldn’t be screwed with ever again.
Chapter Three
A SHARP BLADE of sunlight slipped between the drapes in Rick’s bedroom and stretched across his face, drawing him from deep sleep into a groggy morning haze.
He blinked his eyes open and winced. He wasn’t accustomed to being woken by sunlight, his unsteady dreams usually pulling him from bed long before dawn. But last night there were no dreams, just an intoxicating blend of soft woman and hard sleep.
Angling his head away from the deadly light ray, he tried opening his eyes again, curious to know exactly how late he’d slept. The red digital numbers on his clock said seven forty-five. A record. At least, one he hadn’t broken in…he tried to recall…
Exactly two years, eight months and two weeks, give or take a couple days.
He clamped his eyes shut, not interested in letting his thoughts take over and ruin the restful climax to one hell of an evening. Especially when there were better ways to start the day.
Rolling over, he reached for the sexy cowgirl responsible for his divine night of slumber, trying to decide which parting gift he’d like to leave her with. Several came to mind. All of them involving her legs around his neck. But when he slid a hand over the mattress, he came up with nothing but sheet. He felt the pillows, flat and cold, before opening his eyes and propping up on an elbow. The bed was definitely empty, and glancing around the dim room, he noted the rest of the master suite was empty, too.
Was she down the hall making coffee? That would be too blissful to imagine. A smile quirked his mouth as he envisioned the petite, sexy redhead slipping back into bed with two mugs of black coffee and steam in her eyes. But when he rolled on his back and allowed his mind and body to slowly wake, the house felt awfully quiet.
Frowning, he tossed his legs over the side of the bed and scratched his chest, still trying to capture his bearings. His clothes were scattered across the tan carpet, as were a number of foil condom wrappers—little remnants of a night well spent. A pillow had found its way to the foot of his stuffy sofa chair, and he wondered how it got there until the memory made him smile.
Oh, Ms. Beane, you know how to have a good time.
He shoved off the bed and began collecting the wrappers, counting them as he went until it occurred to him everything that belonged to Jessie was gone. The denim skirt she’d wiggled out of as he was still recovering from the first orgasm, the black strappy high heels she’d kicked off with her toes, the lacy green bra, the tight black T-shirt, the funky orange “Beane Bag,” all stripped from the room as if last night had been nothing more than a dream.
He grabbed his pants and pulled them on, then crossed the room and opened the door. Stepping through his front room, down the hall to the kitchen past the bathroom and back, he came to terms with the fact that his spicy Texas lover was gone.
And for a long moment, he stood, trying to understand why that irked him.
Last night she’d been the answer to everything he’d needed just then, a lover that rivaled his every fantasy, fulfilling every horny desire and tossing out two or three more for good measure. Now this morning she’d gone the extra mile by adding one more favor. She’d taken off. No awkward goodbyes, no empty promises to call. She’d simply grabbed her things and left. And for a man already complicated by a hard past and a harder present, it was the sweetest move she could have made.
So why was he so pissed?
Padding back to the kitchen, he lifted the carafe of day-old coffee from the machine. He sniffed the contents and grimaced, but still opted to nuke a cup rather than brew a fresh pot. He was too disturbed by his own annoyance to fret over the quality of his morning’s caffeine, and as he choked down the first bitter sip, he leaned against the counter and tried to talk some sense into himself.
What had he planned to do, ask for her number? Send her flowers and start taking her out for regular Friday-night dates? He’d made it clear before they’d left the bar that if she was looking for more than one fun evening, she’d need to keep trolling. She hadn’t balked, and this morning, she’d proven that her indifference hadn’t been an act. She’d truly meant what she’d said about wanting to keep things casual. There’d been no day-after confessions leading to guilty apologies and the ever-awkward, “Gee, I thought you’d understood…”
She’d wanted exactly what he’d wanted. They’d been a goddamn one-night match made in heaven. So standing here burned, since she’d one-upped him on her race for the door, seemed immature at best.
The rational thought helped only slightly. However, instead of spending the morning in his kitchen trying to analyze his feelings, he decided it was time to forget about it and head for the station.
Until a sharp knock at the entry had him thinking again. Stepping down the hall, he grabbed the knob and whipped open the door, but rather than finding his wily sex-starved bedmate, he found a short Chinese man with a bad haircut and a frown on his face.
“You forget you had a job?” his partner, Kevin Fong, grumbled as he pushed through the door and entered the flat, a cup of Starbucks in one hand. Kevin’s angry look had Rick guessing he hadn’t brought an extra cup for him.
Rick closed the door behind them. “It’s barely eight.”
“And when was the last time you showed up for work later than seven?” It hadn’t been in the year and a half he and Kevin had been partners. “And when did you stop answering your cell phone?” Kevin added.
Rick glanced down at the mahogany side table where he could have sworn he’d tossed his car keys and cell phone the night before. “My phone?” he said absently, patting the pockets of his jeans then moving into the bedroom to look around.
Kevin followed, eyeing him suspiciously as he leaned in the doorway and took in the surroundings. “Captain’s been trying to get hold of you all morning.”
Rick stopped rummaging through the room and glanced at the clock. “It’s seven fifty-five!”
“He’s apparently a vampire like you.” Kevin yawned. “Woke me up at an ungodly hour because he couldn’t reach you. You’ve been my mission for the last hour.”
Rick seriously needed a lesson in expectation management. Barely having a life was one thing. Having his boss call out the posse because he hadn’t shown up for work early brushed the edge of illegal. “What’s the captain doing working on a Saturday anyway?” he grumbled.
“Creed Thornton managed to get his property released from evidence,” Kevin explained. “They’re coming first thing this morning to pick up everything we seized from his condo.”
“That’s why I got to it yesterday.” Rick went back to looking for his cell phone.
“Captain wants to know why you checked out his laptop.” Then with an added layer of annoyance, Kevin added, “And since we’re supposed to be working this case together, it might be nice if you told me, too.”
“If you’d met me at Scotty’s last night like you should have, you’d already know.”
Kevin pulled a pen from his coat jacket, bent over and used it to lift Jessie’s emerald-green thong out from behind his TV stand. “Looks like you ended up better off without me,” he said, holding it up as if it were crime scene evidence.
Rick stepped over and yanked the panties away from his partner. He preferred his personal life stay personal, having had enough of it all over the news when his wife was killed. And the look he flashed Kevin said the man wasn’t going to get the gory details he was looking for.
“Message delivered. Why don’t you let me shower and get dressed and I’ll meet you down at the station?”
“You forgot the part about filling me in on what you’re doing with our murder investigation.” Kevin moved in, kicked away the pillow from Rick’s side chair and took a seat. “Why did you check out the laptop last night? The crime lab said it was clean.”
“I want a second opinion.”
Kevin laughed. “Not that smarmy hacker friend of yours from the Haight.”
“He’s not a friend.”
“You aren’t denying the smarmy part.”
“He’s better than the geek squad downtown.”
Kevin conceded, knowing Rick was right. The crime lab was good at sniffing deleted files out of PCs and laptops. And on occasion they’d worked wonders tracing lines through the Internet and drumming up long-lost e-mails. But they weren’t the be all and end all in computer hacking, and his “smarmy friend” in the Haight was.
“You realize nothing this guy finds will stand up in court. Any lead you get from it will get tossed out the minute a sharp lawyer discovers how you got it.”
“Thank you for the lesson in criminal justice.”
“I’m just sayin’…” He shrugged before taking a sip of his coffee.
“Yeah, and like you said, they’re coming to pick up his evidence this morning. I’ve got a better chance with it in the hands of my hacker than back with a murderer.” He stared hard at his partner before adding, “That laptop’s the only chance we’ve got. This case is going cold, about to turn Arctic the minute Thornton’s lawyers collect that computer this morning.” He turned back to the bathroom and tossed over his shoulder, “Besides, you know as well as I do we can get around explaining how we come up with tips. We need to look again at what’s on there, then worry about what to do with it.”
“They’re gonna be pissed when the laptop’s not there. I get the feeling the captain’s willing to cover your ass, but he needs an explanation before they show up looking for it.”
That was the easy part. The laptop was their first break in nailing Creed Thornton for the murder of Anna Mendoza. And Rick had no doubt the man was responsible.
A hotshot software developer with rich parents and even richer in-laws, Creed’s pampered life hit a snag when his maid turned up dead and pregnant with his child. Their explanation had been suicide, the poor girl so distraught that he refused to divorce his wife, she’d hanged herself in her own bathroom. But too many sides to that scenario weren’t sitting well, most notably the smug composure of a man certain he was about to get away with murder.
Rick and Kevin had been chasing dead ends for months, every lead extinguished, every road ending up nowhere. In recent weeks, even Rick had come close to admitting that Paolo and Lucy Mendoza might never get justice for their daughter.
However, Creed had made the one mistake that could cost him his freedom. He wanted his evidence back. And he wanted it so badly that he’d sent his team of lawyers on an expensive and politically charged rampage to get every item they’d seized from his condo before week’s end.
On news of that, Rick had taken inventory and come up with the item that seemed to be garnering too much attention—Creed’s laptop. The urgency didn’t make sense. The man was a software engineer with a dozen computers at his disposal. So why the sudden need to have this one—and fast? The crime lab found it clean, but Creed’s company specialized in security encryption. He would be just cocky enough to test his programs in the most ultimate way—with his life.
And now, suddenly it was critical he get his hands back on the computer. Could it be second thoughts? Did he have newfound reservations that with an expert, his secrets might not be as safe as he’d presumed?
Rick wasn’t sure, but he intended to find out.
“We’d all like to know what you’re up to,” Kevin said.
“Easy. Creed wants his laptop back and I want to know why the sudden interest.”
Kevin rubbed his chin like he always did when he was thinking, taking the look in Rick’s eyes and coming up with the same conclusion. It was one reason Rick appreciated Kevin more than he had any other partner during his fifteen years on the force.
Though only two years in homicide and still learning the ropes, Kevin caught on fast. He was sharp and meticulous, sniffing out facts while Rick shot from the cuff and followed hunches. Their opposing styles seemed to strike a balance that worked well for both Rick and the force. Now they just needed it to work well for this murder case, too.
“Has Smarmy Friend found anything yet?” Kevin asked.
“He doesn’t have the laptop yet. I’m meeting him this morning at ten to drop it off.” Then Rick continued the search for his cell phone. Scratching his head, he said, “Call my number,” and when Kevin did they heard only the ring from his receiver.
“I must have left it in the car,” he murmured before heading downstairs to the garage.
And when he reached the bottom of the stairs and opened the side door, he found himself standing in an empty room.
Kevin came up behind him and stated the obvious. “Your car’s not here.”
That explained where his keys were, and since he was now sure he’d tossed them on the coffee table next to his cell phone, he knew it was gone, too.
“I take it you didn’t lend it to your lady friend,” Kevin said.
“Not voluntarily.”
A sour taste hit Rick’s tongue and it wasn’t the bad coffee. Upstairs they began searching his house, looking for anything else missing and checking the doors and windows for signs of entry.
“You always leave your back door unlocked?” Kevin called from the kitchen.
“Never.”
“Well, someone did.” Kevin stepped into the living room, his face grim and sympathetic. “What about everything else? Your wallet, any valuables?”
“My wallet’s in the bedroom. It wasn’t touched.”
“So someone just wanted your car and your phone.”
