BAD Beginnings Page 5

  Knock that thought right out of your head, girl, and replace it with something that makes sense. And mattered. Could she pull DNA from the fibers if she managed to hold onto it long enough to get it to the lab this time? He’d been too careful in the past. Had the vacation loosened him up? He was beginning to grow on her for the first time in two years. Unfortunately, in all the wrong ways.

  “Thanks, Logan. Do you mind if I take a cab? It’s been a long day and I need to get home.” She reached for her cell to make the call.

  “We can drop you.” He frowned and she realized she’d disappointed him. Again. Would he revert back to old ways and close up?

  “I’m fine. Just go ahead…but I’ll hang onto this if you don’t mind. At least until tomorrow.” She flashed a weak smile as she held up the jacket lapel. Would he fall for it?

  Nope. He shoved the door wide before the driver could reach them. “Get in. I’m not leaving you here in the middle of the night alone. Not looking like that.”

  Gemma squelched the tingle that surged down her back—a mixture of disappointment and excitement. She blinked and glanced at the plunge in her neckline. “What’s wrong with the way I look?”

  “Nothing. That’s the problem. Shove over.” He slid a leg against her thigh and used his weight to shift her aside.

  “There’s a thousand people here. I don’t see what the—” She growled in frustration when her bag vibrated and the tone rang from within. Who would call at this time of night? She fumbled around for it then answered. The voice on the phone dismayed her further. Her boss—the real one.

  “You want to tell me where the two of you are going?” Deep innuendo in his tone made her dart a glance at the profile next to her as they pulled from the lot into the street. They’re watching me? What, they don’t think I can handle this?

  “Hi, Dad.” She forced a steady tone into her voice, knowing that her real father would likely not approve of the man at her side. Or would he? Wealthy, successful, and definitely easy on the eyes. A little too easy if she were honest. Not that her father would care about the looks. The tattoos might be a drawback.

  “Don’t tell me you’re getting involved with our suspect, Gemma. You know how stupid that would be? Especially considering the fact that he’s probably not our suspect anyway—or is that why you’ve wasted two years on this case?”

  Gulp. The hairs on her neck stood at attention and the flush of anger surged through her skin. He was watching. How long had that gone on?

  “Come on now, Dad. You know I never waste my time on anything but work. Haven’t you said yourself I need to get out once in a while? Enjoy myself? How can I do that when you call me at the worst possible times? For all you know—”

  “For all I know, you’re screwing Logan Indiris, which is why your case is stalled and you can’t seem to find one solid piece of evidence.”

  A cloudy mist covered her vision, her eyes ached, and she put a thumb and forefinger to them and pressed back the need to scream…or cry. “Look, Dad. I appreciate your concern but I’m doing exactly what you wanted me to do. Really. And you calling me at this time of night isn’t exactly helping. Tell Mom and the rest Hi. Gotta go now. Love you.” She clicked the end button on the phone and dropped it back into the sequined bag, not before she heard the echo of her boss’ order to appear in his office Monday morning.

  She balled her fists in her lap, the only thing she could do at the moment, and stared at the glitter of streetlights and cars that flashed past. There was noise and excitement in the night outside but inside the car—suffocating silence. Yet, if she spoke, she’d likely unload. Control, baby. Control. You’ve lasted this long. Now that he’s finally loosening his control, don’t give up. Or screw up. No, she’d somehow manage to convince her superiors to keep her on the case and by Monday, she’d find hard evidence that supported the suspicions she’d raised.

  Logan’s rumbling voice broke the silence. “So, Daddy checks up on you regularly?”

  “Yeah. Sorry.”

  He snickered. “He’s just looking out for you. Nothing to be sorry about. We all need someone to do that.”

  There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice, and she thought back to Sharon and the new hubby. Had she never looked out for his best interests? Doubtful, judging by the way she’d trounced in and taken over without his consent. Was his dad like that? Uh, obviously. Idiot. He erased himself from their lives when Logan was a teenager.

  The fleeting light from the streetlights did nothing to display his expression. Would he lower the barricades that had kept her at bay? “Yeah, I guess we do. What about you? Tell me about your parents?”

  He let out a low whistle. “You saw my mother. That pretty much says it all, doesn’t it?”

  “You’re avoiding the question. Too close for comfort? It’s okay to ask about my life but yours is off-limits? What is that—a boss’ prerogative? One of those ‘it’s okay for me to pry into your life but don’t touch mine’ thing?” His months of crazy, awkward silence pissed her off. The new found personality or whatever it was he’d turned on also made her angry. Why now? What had changed? Recovery surely hadn’t been the come to Jesus that made him human. No one changed their spots that much.

  He shifted and threw an arm behind her on the seat, his palm resting on the jacket he’d provided earlier. Awkward. His voice held a measure of threat…or admonishment, “You know as well as I do, everything about Logan Indiris’ family is a matter of public record. All you have to do is read the paper or search the internet, and you’ll know pretty much all you need. So, don’t act like I’m keeping secrets or that you don’t know me. Everyone does.” He glanced at the driver.

  Do they really?

  “Something tells me there’s a lot more than just what the public has seen, Logan. You’re hiding. Maybe you want people to think you’re an asshole just to keep the real you protected. Or maybe the real you isn’t something people should see?”

  “So, now you’re a psychiatrist? Take a look at your own inner workings, honey. There’s nothing to see here. Besides why are you getting so defensive and combative just because I asked about your dad? I thought it was nice he called. What’s wrong with calling your daughter to make sure she’s okay?”

  Nothing, if that’s what it truly was. She sighed. “I’m just…edgy. I guess. It’s been a stressful week.” She ran a hand across the back of her neck and yanked it down when he covered her fingers with his. When the feel of strong knuckles massaging her neck made her want to groan, she tried to salvage that control she had searched for earlier. “Stop that.”

  “Why? You’re tense.”

  “And you’re my damn boss. That is totally inappropriate.” When his fingers stilled, she wasn’t sure whether to apologize or get some distance between them. Her stomach churned. This man was kneading her neck muscles. God, if her real boss saw that through the window, she’d be fired for sure. She reminded herself that he was the same boss she hung up on seconds earlier. Yep, her job was in serious jeopardy.

  “Well, I certainly don’t want to be inappropriate, so it’s a good thing we’re home.”

  She looked out the window. His home. “I am not going in, Logan.”

  “That’s good because I wasn’t asking you to.” He tapped on the glass that had kept them separated from the driver. “Can you please drop Gemma home?”

  A car passed them and slowed into a driveway down the street. It was very likely someone from her precinct. She hesitated—would they expect her to go in or leave? Dammit all. Was she supposed to stick to him like glue for evidence purposes, or get the hell out in case they thought she was personally involved? Her head ached with the seesaw of priorities. How dare they think she would be interested in this guy! She watched Logan’s profile as he disappeared toward the door. Who was she kidding?

  “Wait!”

  He was almost to the door when she steppe
d out of the car. Now what? She had no idea.

  “Don’t you want your jacket back?”

  Okay, that was stupid. She had intended to keep the jacket and turn it over to the lab. As she watched him, she realized that maybe she should go for even better evidence. She should attempt to find something inside that would make her case. Support her efforts. Prove that the past two years hadn’t been a waste of time. Prove that the internal rumblings of her feminine side were just a fluke—a mechanism to save her career.

  Logan shrugged and slipped his hands into the pockets of designer slacks that hugged his hips a bit tighter than she remembered. Had he gained weight during the short time away? “Since I have about a dozen jackets just like that, I doubt I’ll miss one. You said you were cold.”

  “I did say that.” She knew she’d regret it but she pulled the jacket from her shoulders and walked to meet him. She held up the coat for him to take. “The car has a heater, I’ll be fine.”

  He glanced down the street. Had he seen the car watching them? “I like to drink a hot cup of tea when I’m cold.”

  He did? No kidding. “Me, too.” Uh, oh. What if he—

  “This is probably inappropriate, too, but…want some?”

  Shit.

  “Um, yeah?”

  Chapter Seven

  Baden thought it funny that it mattered to her whether they were inappropriate –and that he should care. Nothing in his life had an ounce of propriety to it. Asking her in for warmth was exactly that. His time was getting shorter with every moment they stepped into public view. This life would be over for him any day. The near miss with his friendly D.A. was a hearty reminder. Gemma would be gone along with all this frickin’ finery. Forever.

  Why not have a memory that could last as long too? He motioned her toward the kitchen where the bird scratched a few seeds on the floor but otherwise remained quiet.

  Don’t be an idiot. Why would she bother with someone like you? Oh, right. Maybe because, for the moment, I’m not me—I’m him. And sadly, he wouldn’t even notice her. The idiot.

  Bam. Bam. Bam. The door rattled behind them as they moved toward the bar. Gemma jolted and dropped her bag. He lunged down, scooping it just before her fingers brushed his. “Someone’s at the door,” she whispered.

  Neither of them moved. He slipped his hand around hers as she took the bag and watched for something in her expression. It was there. He knew enough to see the spark.

  The musical sound of the doorbell tried to break the electric current her fingers sent through his. Not happening. Without lights, her eyes were like shiny black glass. “Ignore it, they’ll go away.”

  As if to argue, more banging on the door followed his words. “Doesn’t sound like it.” She tensed and he realized there was fear lurking just below the sizzle. Of what? More impropriety? “Someone really wants you. You’d better get that.”

  No. Dammit. I’m not ready to give up yet. Go the fuck away. He dropped her fingers and stood, trying to invent a plan. Their car had just pulled away, so whoever it was saw them enter and knew they were here. Would they think she was involved? God, he’d never thought that far. By continuing the charade, would someone believe Gemma a part of his act? An accomplice.

  “Shhhh. Let’s tiptoe back to the other room and see if they leave. Get out of sight of the windows.” He toed off a shoe, then the other. In his sock feet, he slipped a hand down her leg and found the strap of her heel. Damn, she had tiny ankles. And muscular calves. He tugged one heel from her foot then the other and with them in hand, pulled her along through the corridor.

  “Ummm, Logan, the windows are waaay out of sight now.” She dropped a hand to her hip and stared over his shoulder. Okay, the bedroom loomed behind him. That was purely coincidental.

  He grinned and whispered, “You think they’re gone?”

  The rasp of a key in the lock answered his question and he spat out a curse. The asshole chose this moment to come home? Fuck. “Not now.” Only it wasn’t him.

  He heard the clip of heels on the shined entry, then he shivered as Sharon’s voice called, “Where the hell are you, you little shit-ass? What do you mean running out on us like that? You’ll have— Oh, well look who’s here.”

  Sharon’s perfectly manicured fingers trailed along the wall as she moved toward them like a panther approached its prey. Baden’s breath caught. A chill ran down his spine and lodged in his ass. So, Mommy dearest had a key even though she was never anywhere near her son. Interesting.

  He frowned but the darkness swallowed the expression. “Normally when someone doesn’t answer the door that means you’re not welcome. Or maybe they’re not home. What do you want?”

  “I came by to see you. Don’t be shy now. I know you’re not real keen on my new hubby but hey, a girl’s gotta find her own happiness, right? Besides, your dad’s been gone for a decade.”

  “Not a good time right now, Sharon.” Baden couldn’t shake the chill.

  Gemma pulled her shoes from his fingers and cleared her throat. “I’d better go Logan. You seem to have a bit of catching up to—”

  He grasped the shoes, then her wrist in a failed attempt to intercept her departure. “No. Don’t go.”

  The light from the entry glanced across her face, a mere moonbeam in the dark. “It’s okay. I’ll see you at the office on Monday.”

  He groaned as she raced down the hall and out the door. With the car gone, he had no idea how she’d manage to leave and he wasn’t about to—

  “You need a ride.”

  She pulled a keychain from the bowl by the door and jingled it. “Mind if I borrow yours? I’ll bring it back clean on Monday.” Without waiting, she slipped through the door and disappeared, leaving him with—Cruella Deville.

  Sharon crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “Let her go, dear. She’s a big girl. She can manage fine.”

  Yeah, she can, but what about me?

  “So why are you here, Sharon? What’s so important that it can’t wait until tomorrow? Or next year?” He brushed past without letting her get a closer look and headed toward the bar. Forget the hot tea, he needed bourbon.

  “Tsk. Tsk. Such a cold welcome after all this time.” Sharon tossed her clutch on the bar, grabbed the glass he’d poured, and tossed it back. “I expected you to stick to your end of our bargain.”

  He hadn’t a clue what she referred to but the bitch had depleted his patience when she drank his healthy portion of the glorious bourbon. Logan’s stash was the best he had tasted. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Sharon leaned toward him, the hot stench of her alcohol-infused breath blew against his cheek. “Enlighten me, Looogaan, what’s that writing on your chest all about?” She slid a finger along his lapel then traced the top of the tattoo on his bicep. Her eyebrow raised when a button gave way, exposing the words. “The Truth Shan’t Set You Free. Seriously? Sweetie, I am the only truth in your book. If it weren’t for me, you’d be rotting in prison just like that—” She shook her head and let his shirt fall closed. “You want to tell me why you decided not to send my check this month?”

  “Your check?” Damn he wished he knew what this woman meant. And why he felt like an angel of death was standing before him.

  “Don’t fuck with me, sonny boy. I made you. I saved you from that truth you flaunt on your chest. And I can take it all away, just like that.” Snap. The loud click of her fingers made him jump. She was threatening him? Seriously? His blood thawed a bit and started to heat. He felt the hair on the back of his neck hit a full tilt.

  “Go ahead. I dare you. You take it away from me…and you’ll end up with what?” He yanked the glass from her fingers, filled it again, and chugged the golden liquid. “Nothing. And you know it. Don’t fuck with you? No, sorry, Sharon. Don’t fuck with me. Now get the hell out.” He walked to the front door, yanked it open, and waited for
her exit. Would she call his bluff? Would she realize she wasn’t talking to the real Logan?

  Would she call the police?

  Her mouth opened but no words followed. Seconds ticked by. She closed her mouth and left. Just as the door clicked shut, she hissed. “I want my ten grand by Friday or I’ll go public about you and who you really are. Don’t think you can mess with me, you little shit. You know what I can do.”

  She strolled to a car down the street, where the new hubby must have waited. Does the man know who he married? Or care? Baden shivered. And what exactly was all that cryptic shit about? Money? Her son owed her money? Ten grand that was apparently more important than finding her son since she tossed an ultimatum.

  He grabbed another bourbon, dropped onto Logan’s leather recliner, and clicked the flat-screen television on for a late night glance at the news. He was asleep ten minutes into the show, and dreamed of being chased—by himself and Gemma.

  Chapter Eight

  Baden wasn’t a stranger to passing out— he was no drunk either. He’d had his first bout of light-headedness the week Natalie disappeared. Now he knew it to be his fear of public speaking that turned his nuts into tiny balls of concrete before drawing the blood from his brain. When he was a teenager, he imagined it was hormonal. Just before they were to do their semester speech project, Natalie had teased him on the phone the night before. She wasn’t exactly one of those pure and simple girls. No, Natalie liked to infer sex, even though he had been pretty sure the inference was hollow. It wasn’t until after her disappearance that he realized how deeply wrong he had assumed. And how disturbed the poor girl was.

  He and Natalie had speech class together, as well as gym. Though in gym, the girls were either on opposite ends of the basketball court…or opposite ends of the football field. Gym was definitely off-limits for interaction. No sweaty bodies intermingled in Coach Worth’s watch. Speech, however, was a playground. Mr. Deifenbacher, the teacher, was ancient and usually gave an assignment then sat back and let the kids “do their thing”. A thing that included a lot of flirting and talking, all part of class. And all of it intended to hold as much shock value as the student felt they could get away with.