Chapter 23
Noah launched himself at the keys, bent to scoop them up, and circled around the car with speed rivaling Usain Bolt in the fifty-yard dash. The dogs tore after him, stumbling over each other, their large bodies uncoordinated in the turns.
Just as Harper was sure they’d catch him on the third lap and tear his limbs off, he popped the hatch and dove inside.
Gasping and wheezing for breath, he pulled down the door and rolled onto his back. It took a second for Harper to get over her terror that she’d see him eaten alive, to realize he was laughing!
“What are you laughing at?” she scolded. She scrambled over the seats to peer down at him lying on dirty gold carpet. He was sweaty and missing his other shoe.
Yet, thankfully, he was all in one piece.
“Are you insane?” she said as he clutched his stomach and his eyes watered. “Those dogs wanted to kill you.”
He reached up to tug a curl and tamped down the laughter. “But they didn’t.” He rolled to his hands and knees and got face to face with her. “HJ, I’m just fine.”
Tension seeped away. “I’d sock you for scaring me if I wasn’t so happy you’re still alive.” She pushed damp hair off his face. “I might still. I haven’t decided.”
His expression softened. “I’d kiss you if not for that whole keeping things professional pact.”
Lord, she was conflicted. “You did almost die,” she said, her voice wavering. He did deserve something for retrieving the keys. “Okay, just this once.”
She grabbed him around the neck and kissed the humor right out of him. His tongue tangled with hers and he groaned. Before she ended up splayed out naked on the dingy car carpet, she reluctantly drew back and swiped her lip gloss off his mouth.
He had a great mouth.
Noah nipped her thumb. She jerked her hand back. “That’s enough kissing. No more. Promise?”
Making a frustrated-man sound, he nodded. “Agreed.”
No wonder the man was confused. She blew hot and cold where he was concerned. One day in the near future, after the case was solved, she’d take a month or two to define her feelings. He’d just have to wait until she was ready.
“Keys.” He handed them over. She crawled back into the driver’s seat. The barking dogs circled the car. Noah was too big to crawl over the seats without kicking her in the head, so she drove away with a wave.
Betty Anne and Berit didn’t look happy. They were clearly hoping for bloody carnage.
Once they hit the road, she pulled over so he could join her in front. He picked goat hair off his shirt and flicked it out the window. “One of these days we’re taking my truck.”
“If you say so.”
Feeling his eyes on her, she kept her attention on the road. He was too distracting.
“Why are you so attached to this damn car?” he said and stretched out his legs in the limited space. His socked feet vanished under the dash board. “I can get you something better.”
“And have it trashed by a psycho?” She stopped in the middle of the street. “You didn’t see what happened to my poor car. It’s ruined.”
He knew the story, but he wasn’t there to see the wreckage. How could he understand that the Mustang had been another thing she couldn’t hold on to as her losses piled up.
A strange look passed over his face. “Do you think the killer was the vandal?”
She thought over the question. “I’m not sure. Maybe. At this point, it could’ve been someone from the motel, the killer, or someone who doesn’t appreciate classic cars. Who knows? I made a report, but I don’t have high hopes of finding out who did it.”
He nodded. “The police will look into the crime, but without a witness, you’re right. It’ll go cold.”
The urge to curl into a ball and hide washed over her. She didn’t have that luxury. Toughness and determination would carry her through. She’d worry about her Mustang and her job, and everything else after she was cleared.
“That’s why I’ll drive this damn car until the bumpers fall off,” she said through gritted teeth. “If the killer is messing with me, I won’t let him or her win.”
* * * *
He wanted to choke the vandal for making her heart hurt. He also wanted to take a look at her car. How bad could the damage be? Broken windows? Smashed lights? If he could remove the unhappiness in her eyes, he’d try and make some repairs.
After resigning himself to learning to like the rental wreck, he pulled out his pad and pencil. Old school, yes, but easier than using his laptop for witness statements.
“All right. An interview with Betty Anne is out, for now. I’ll find a way to get close to her without the dogs, and you.” She didn’t argue. Harper was the match that lit Betty Anne’s fuse. Better to keep them apart. “You said Gerald had other mistresses. Do you have names?”
“I remember one named Angel. I think that’s her stripper name. Another was Katelyn. I think she’s an accountant. Those were the two he brought around over the last two years.”
This was a twist. “He cheated with an accountant and a stripper? He didn’t have a type?”
“He liked anyone willing to sleep with him.” She grimaced and stuck out the tip of her tongue. “What I never understood was their attraction for him.”
“Money? That’s what Sharla said.”
Harper made a face. “He was so unpleasant both in appearance and personality. Is there ever enough wealth to overlook a boorish attitude and questionable hygiene?”
Noah had looked Gerald up online and he wasn’t what you’d expect a player looked like—obese and bald with small and calculating eyes. Money bought him attention from women.
“He sounds better by the minute.” Noah had yet to hear anything that would make him consider having a beer with the guy, if he wasn’t dead. “Were those his good points?”
Harper continued past his comment. “Although there’s no definitive proof that Gerald didn’t shower every day, he seemed to soak himself in cologne as if warding off the unpleasant side effect of his sweating issue. The man always appeared as if he’d just completed a hard workout.”
Reflecting on the life and times of Gerald Covington, Noah wondered how he’d managed to get to age forty without someone taking him out earlier or had a massive heart attack do the deed. It sounded like he was one unhealthy bastard.
He rubbed his eyes. “Why don’t we start with Angel? Do you where she worked?”
“Kimmie might.” A quick call to the assistant got her the name and address of the club. “Kimmie thinks she’s the featured dancer at the Prancing Pony.”
It was creepy how much Kimmie knew about her boss. Noah wondered if the girl stood by the bed while Gerald entertained and took notes for performance critiques.
Shoot, he’d more likely make her cheer at his prowess.
A phone call confirmed Angel worked that evening. Since Harper was starving, he took her to dinner.
When they pulled into the parking lot of a chain restaurant, he was sure Alvin had followed them. Harper had said her friend Taryn had arranged for him to watch over her until the PI’s returned. Noah didn’t like the idea of having another guy questioning his capability as a watch dog. However, with the Covington clan out to get her, having a second set of eyes on Harper wasn’t a bad idea in case they decided to snatch her.
He thought about doubling back to confirm the suspicion, then passed. If the big guy wanted to waste his time, let him.
As long as she didn’t know Alvin was her one-man protection unit. She’d be ticked off that he hadn’t backed off.
Dinner was nice, if uninspired. The conversation went to football and what players stood out. That led to a friendly argument over which team had the best quarterback in the league.
“Sorry,” she said as the debate trailed off. “I have to go with Trotter. Despite getting fired, I’m team loyal.”
Noah sipped his beer. “He’s too pretty for football. I want to punch him in the face and mess up his nose.”
She smiled. “Not nice, Slade. You’d ruin his endorsements.”
Grunting, he finished the last of his beer and glanced down at his lap. “It doesn’t take a chiseled jaw to sell jock itch powder, if you know what I mean.”
A snort broke from her and she laughed while trying not to lose a bite of fudge cake. She choked it down and pleaded, “Stop! You’re freaking me out. Deke’s like a brother to me!”
Platonic or not, Noah wasn’t sure he liked her closeness with the hot jock. A couple of drinks during a late night out and Trotter could morph into something more. Hell, even the most devoted heterosexual male might be tempted by the quarterback after a couple of shots. Trotter was a god among men.
He enjoyed watching her finish the cake. Just enough fudge remained on the plate to spread over her breasts and between her legs. As long as it wasn’t Trotter doing the spreading.
She’d kill him if she could read his mind and he squelched a grin. Harper wasn’t the sort of woman who’d have her head turned by a handsome jock. At least she hadn’t been.
Hell, she’d chosen him in high school. That clearly showed the only taste she had was in her mouth.
Truthfully, he didn’t know her anymore. He hated that their breakup had left such a divide.
Could he restart their relationship when the case concluded? He wanted a second chance to show her he could be the guy she needed. And deserved.
Shit. He was thinking like a Hallmark card.
All but buried to her elbows in gooey chocolate, she innocently ate the last bits of dessert while he fought the twitch of an erection in his jeans. Good thing there was a table between them. Varnished wood provided cover while he thought of politics and sink drain sludge, anything to get control.
“You okay?” she asked and lowered the spoon.
The feeling was nothing that a night in bed with her, or an ice pick to the temple, couldn’t cure.
“I’m fine. I’m trying to figure out how many dollar bills I’ll need for G-string bribes,” he said. “When in Rome…”
The fork clattered on her plate. “This visit to the Prancing Pony is for business, not for funny business. If you want to ogle half naked women, do it on your own time.”
Talk about annoyed. He laid his best slow grin on her and she turned pink and sexy. “First, I don’t go to strip clubs as a rule. I’m not into that kind of entertainment. Second, there’s only one body I’m interested in seeing without clothes.”
Other than deepening her flush, she said nothing.
Instead, Harper grabbed the bill and stood. “We should get going before the club fills up.”
Noah watched her go, locked on to her swaying hips and tight butt. He knew his timing was rotten, but he hoped that someday soon they’d clear her name and then he could work on getting back what had been broken between them.
After paying the bill, they headed for the car. “Do you know anything about Angel? Other than her job,” he asked when they were on the road. They’d spent a god-awful amount of time in the damn car. Harvey was their third wheel, so to speak.
“Not much, other than she seemed friendly and young,” she admitted. “Between long-term mistresses, Gerald’s ‘friends’ came and went. He’d bring women around, show them off, then there’d be a new one soon after. He liked to look like a big shot in front of the players.”
“Did it work?”
“The guys snickered behind his back.” She pointed the car east. “It was kind of sad, actually.”
He went to respond when red and blue flashing lights appeared in the darkness behind them.