His Private Pleasure Page 12

  “And?”

  Liza didn’t say anything for a long moment. “And, maybe, I like it. Well, not like it,” she added quickly, “but I don’t want to leave it yet, either. He wants to push me and I like to push back. We weren’t done pushing at each other yet.”

  “Because of the fire.”

  “Yeah. He was called to the scene and, well, I checked into a hotel.”

  “You must have some control if you’re in a hotel and not waiting for him on his kitchen counter.”

  “Ha ha. But that’s just it. He pushes and retreats. It’s a hell of combination. And he offered, but I said no.”

  “But you’re staying in town because of…?”

  “Breakfast. And okay,” she added impatiently when Natalie snorted. “Because we’re not done yet. I don’t know what done is, but we’re not there. Yet.” There was silence on the other end, and it dragged on long enough that Liza finally said, “Do you think I should just skip town and put this behind me?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think I’ve been to enough therapists as a child to never answer a question with a question.” They both laughed. “I want to know what you think I should do.”

  “Will you regret it if you leave now?”

  “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “I think you have your answer then. You didn’t say ‘maybe’ first. Your instincts are usually dead on.”

  “Except where stupid-ass soap actors are involved.”

  “We both know that wasn’t about Conrad. That was you figuring out that maybe you’re hardwired more like the rest of us than you thought you were. He was just the man in your life when you came to that conclusion. Square peg, round hole. It was never the right fit and you know it.”

  “You’re right. But it doesn’t make this any less confusing. I’ve made so many changes recently. It’s hard to sort out exactly what feels like the right thing to do.”

  “Well, I met Jake and then the changes came right in the middle, and we had to deal with that and sort them out. Maybe your changes had to come first and you met him right in the middle.”

  “You make this sound serious.”

  She heard the smile in Natalie’s voice. “Honey, when you call me at this hour to talk about a man—a man you haven’t slept with yet—it is serious.” And while she let that little bomb of wisdom detonate and sink in, she added, “I love you. And I’ll love you no matter what you do. Just make sure you stay safe.”

  “I’ve met the man’s mother. No way is he going to do anything nefarious with me.”

  Nat laughed. “I still want to hear that story. And I wasn’t talking about physical safety.”

  “Yeah,” Liza said softly. “I know. Thanks, Nat. Sorry I interrupted, but not really. I’m glad you were there.”

  “Let me know how it goes, okay?”

  “I will.”

  There was a muffled noise, then a giggle, then a man’s voice on the line. “Nat has to go to bed now.”

  Liza smiled. “Hi, Jake. Bye, Jake.”

  “Good night, Liza.” There was another muffled laugh, then a small shriek, then the line went dead.

  Liza hung up and rolled to her back, still clutching the pillow. Nat was right. She was hardwired more normally than she’d thought. Because she wanted that. That easy intimacy, that easy banter.

  That going to bed with the same man every night.

  She’d known before leaving L.A. Had become more sure of it after spending several weeks with Nat and Jake in Wyoming. But she could never attach an image to the desire.

  Well, she could now.

  “One hell of a detour you picked for yourself, Liza.”

  11

  “IT WASN’T AN ACCIDENT.”

  Dylan glanced at what had now been classified as crime scene pictures, then back up at Tucker. “I know.”

  Tucker hitched his hip onto Dylan’s desk. “I know you know. I think you knew before you even got to the scene.”

  “A scene I only knew about because Avis called me,” he reminded him pointedly, then waved his hand. He’d knocked heads with Tucker since their high school football days. Nothing much had changed since and he doubted it ever would.

  Tucker, golden boy and gridiron hero, had stayed in Canyon Springs and become a real hero, charging into burning buildings, saving lives, shrugging it off with his million watt smile…but letting the ladies fawn over him nonetheless. He could have been the youngest fire chief Canyon Springs had ever had, but decided instead to turn toward the investigative part of things, and wound up fire marshal. Dylan, town renegade and gridiron bad boy, had left Canyon Springs and become an unknown hero, scraping slime off the streets of faraway Vegas. He could have been the youngest captain on the force, but no one would ever know that. Instead he’d come home and run for sheriff. He didn’t court the spotlight and hated being fawned over by anyone.

  Naturally, the town loved this dichotomy between its two high-profile heroes. Tucker enjoyed the status, comfortable with his well-earned mantle. Dylan paid no attention to his, vaguely uncomfortable with labels. He just went about getting the job done. Their rivalry was more a town thing than a personal thing, except Tucker enjoyed tweaking him with it whenever possible. Dylan only sunk to his level when he couldn’t help himself. Which was a bit more often than he’d like to think it was. He supposed the saying “boys will be boys” was coined for good reason.

  “I had the scene under control,” Tucker responded, as Dylan knew he would. “You’d have had my report on your desk first thing in the morning.” He grinned and helped himself to Dylan’s coffee. “Instead of hashing this out at 3:00 a.m. But hey, this is what we live for, right?”

  “This is what you live for. I’ve had my share of this, remember? I’d be perfectly happy home in bed right now.”

  Tucker’s eyes flashed. “Oh yeah, that’s right.” He pulled a face. “Poor Liza. Losing her man to the job, just when she’d finally gotten him where she wanted him.”

  If you only knew, Dylan thought. And he’d thought about it a lot. It didn’t help that she was less than a block away, tucked in bed. All warm curves and contrary nature. He stifled a smile and pushed at the photos on his desk. “Any word back from the hospital yet? How’s Payne?” The end three units of the strip motel were little more than a charred shell. The rest of the building had suffered both water and smoke damage. Luckily the few guests staying there had raced outside when the whole sprinkler system had been triggered by the one burning room.

  Fred Payne, the night manager, had been taken away for smoke inhalation. He’d tried to fight the initial blaze with a fire extinguisher, then a hose, but it had quickly grown beyond his control and he’d retreated to wait for the fire department, which had shown up moments later.

  “They’re keeping him the rest of the night, but he’ll be okay. I talked to his wife and she’s staying with him.”

  Dylan had someone over there as well, with instructions to call him if Payne was discharged, and to report and detain any visitors other than family.

  “We’ve put up the few guests in other hotels. The day manager is on call if we need her.” Tucker started to pick up the motel booking log, but Dylan slapped his hand on it.

  “That’s evidence.”

  “Which, as marshal, I’m allowed to see.”

  “Only as it pertains to the fire. This goes to possible motive.” And the longer he could keep it out of the local media that the room where the fire started had been reserved in the name of his supposed showgirl lover, the better. Dylan figured he had a few hours, tops, until Fred Payne got out of the emergency room. “You get the reports back on what accelerant was used?”

  “Nothing sophisticated. It’s what we thought. Gasoline on the carpet. Toss in a match and poof.” Tucker glanced at him. “No one was trying to make it look like an accident.” When Dylan didn’t bite on that, Tucker picked up the photo showing the point of origin. “No one was checked into the room, though I got it from
the day girl, Letta Sparks, that the room had been reserved earlier in the day. Specified an end unit. Interesting, isn’t it?”

  Tucker tossed the picture back on the desk and finished off the rest of Dylan’s coffee in one swig. He pitched the cup in the trash across the room, even though there was one right next to him. “Nothing but can,” he said as it sailed in dead center. Then, just as casually, he asked, “So, when are you going to tell me what’s really going on here?”

  “With Letta Sparks in your back pocket, or more likely, your front ones, what do you need me for?”

  Tucker smiled, but didn’t deny anything. “She said the caller was male, asked for a single room for a Liza Smith. We’re having a real run on that name today, aren’t we? Held the room with a credit card. You traced that yet?”

  Dylan slid the pictures into a small manila envelope and tucked the flap in. He tossed them in the rapidly growing case file and flipped the folder shut. “Don’t need to.”

  Tucker grinned. “Gee, now there’s a surprise. Match the one in your pocket, does it?”

  “No, as a matter of fact, it doesn’t.”

  Tucker just shrugged. “So what happened? Your girlfriend come to town trailing trouble behind her?”

  Liza didn’t need to bring trouble with her, Dylan thought, biting back the urge to smile. She was trouble enough all by herself. He’d thought about just letting everyone continue to believe Liza was his imaginary showgirl, but now, with the fire and Dugan involved—and there was no doubt that he was—Dylan would have to explain. Which would also set tongues to wagging, but what the hell. It was the least of his worries at the moment. “She’s not connected to this, Tucker.”

  “Then if it wasn’t a jealous ex-boyfriend setting a jilted-lover fire, it was either a random act of violence—and we all know the chances of that are slim around here—or a warning. I keep asking myself, a warning for what? The room was in her name, yet you say she isn’t involved in this. Then who is?”

  “You know, you should have been the one to head to the big city,” Dylan said. “You’d have made detective young and been in your element. All those showgirls, high rollers, rich women. Think about it, Tucker.” He grinned. “Seriously, I mean.”

  Tucker shot him a smile. “I have. More than you might think.” His smile remained, but his eyes blazed with the avid interest that underscored why his skills were wasted on a town the size of Canyon Springs. “If trouble didn’t trail her into town, then that means it’s come to the only person she’s connected to here. You.”

  Dylan blew out a breath. Tucker might grate on his nerves from time to time, but he was a damn good investigator. “It’s something I was in before I left the Vegas PD. You heard of a guy named Armand Dugan?”

  Tucker shook his head. “No, what’s he run? Girls, numbers, drugs?”

  Dylan just nodded and Tucker whistled beneath his breath. “What are you doing dragging that here? You’re not sloppy.”

  No, Dylan thought, just horny. His head had been in his pants when he’d been talking to Quin, otherwise he’d have listened to the tickle of neck hairs that had told him not to have that discussion on the cell phone. “One of the guys on my squad called to set up a meeting. I covered it under Liza staying at Mims.”

  “Good thing she wasn’t.”

  Tucker didn’t need to remind him of that. Dylan was already worried that he should have sent her out of town the instant he heard about the fire. But Dugan wasn’t targeting Liza, he was targeting Quin and Pearl. And, to a lesser extent, Dylan. It had been a warning to walk away from the meet. Dylan knew how Dugan operated. If he’d wanted Liza, or anyone else, hurt, he’d have made it happen. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t up the stakes when Dylan didn’t back off. And he didn’t plan on backing off. It was personal now.

  Dylan pushed that from his mind and stood up, rolling his shoulders and raking his hand through his hair. “I’m going to run by the hospital, check on Payne, then I’m calling it a night. I’ll meet with you tomorrow afternoon, say two o’clock.”

  “You still going to set up the meet?”

  Dylan wasn’t ready to discuss that yet. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  Tucker opened his mouth, then shut it again and nodded. “Fine.” He stopped at the door, looked back. “Keep a close eye on her, Dylan. I know I don’t have a scrap of your experience, but my gut tells me she could get pulled into this pretty easily.”

  Dylan could only nod. “Listen.” He paused, sighed, and said, “You should know, she’s not from Vegas, Tuck. The name was a coincidence. She has nothing to do with Dugan. With any of this.”

  Tucker just nodded, as if he’d known all along Liza wasn’t what she purported to be. Whether or not he’d really suspected as much didn’t reflect in his eyes. “Yeah, but Dugan finds out you’ve got a weak spot, he could have something to do with her.”

  “She won’t be staying. Don’t worry.”

  Tucker shook his head and laughed. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

  “I won’t have to. She’ll be gone tomorrow.”

  “I might not know about the kind of criminal element you used to keep company with in Vegas, but I do have you topped when it comes to keeping company with women.”

  Dylan merely raised his eyebrows.

  Tucker just grinned. “Fine, fine. But she’s not going anywhere anytime soon. Least not until you two burn each other out of your systems. With the way you’ve had one eye on that phone and the other on your watch half the night, I’m betting that hasn’t happened yet.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dylan retorted, but he was talking to the back of his office door. “Pain in the ass is what he is,” he grumbled, then grabbed the folder and his gun and headed out in turn.

  After his trip to the ER, it would be close to five by the time he got home. Unless he went back to the hotel instead. Tucker’s warnings echoed in his mind, but Liza wasn’t a target now, and she wasn’t going to become one later. Dylan had spoken with the night manager at her hotel anyway, just as a precaution. She’d made one call to a Wyoming number, taken one call. No visitors, no room service.

  He climbed in his truck and tossed the file on the passenger seat. He needed to have a talk with Quin, but had been unable to do so with everything else going on. So his plan was to hit the ER, find a place to make contact with his old squad mate, then be back at the hotel by seven to wait for Liza. He’d already written off their breakfast—and anything else that might have come after. As tired as he was, he smiled, hearing her response to that in his head. Come being the key word, Sheriff. He wished.

  But it was best to get her on her way and out of the line of fire. He put the truck into gear and tore out of the lot with a bit more rubber than necessary.

  TWO HOURS LATER he was one county over and on the phone of the local law. “Come on, Quin, answer the page,” he muttered beneath his breath. He’d put the word out early for the surrounding counties to be on the lookout for the man Dylan was all but certain had set the fire: Tunny Stubbs. Dugan was nothing if not consistent with his personnel. They’d never been able to nail the little bastard and use him against Dugan, and it was likely they wouldn’t have more than circumstantial on him now. But Dylan could slow him down a bit, and it was worth a few more sleepless hours to put what screws he could to Dugan.

  He’d gotten a radio call at the hospital that Stubbs had been picked up, so he’d headed south to see to it personally. He knew the police captain here from a class they’d taken on new strategies for busting racketeering networks several years earlier, when they’d both worked for bigger departments. Captain Henry had retired to Las Cruces, then ended up running a department in the county.

  Dylan had finished with Stubbs for the time being and was using Henry’s office to place a page to Quin. Now all he had to do was hope Quin was wearing his pager. The phone rang a moment later. “What the hell happened?” Dylan snapped as soon as he heard his voice.

  “I
don’t know, man. I’m tracking it. I thought we were in the clear.”

  “Obviously not. Everything okay?” Quin would know he meant Pearl.

  “Yeah, I’m taking care of things.” Meaning he had Pearl with him.

  “You got help?”

  “Yeah. We’d planned for that. We just had to put it into motion a bit sooner than scheduled.” They’d have known she would need a safe place to stay until trial, once Dugan was finally arrested.

  “Will it fly now that the cat’s out of the bag?”

  “It has to—she’s all we have. Listen, we need to do this thing ASAP. I can’t make a move until I have the information.”

  Dylan paused, sighed. It was too late to wish he’d never met Pearl Halliday, but it didn’t mean the sentiment wasn’t there. Meeting in Canyon Springs was out. But now with the fire, the town would be in a tizzy, plus the fiesta was coming up. “I’ll come, but it’s going to be an in-and-out.” Meaning he’d fly in on a private charter, do the interview and fly out. “Your boys will be picking up the tab.”

  “Not a problem. Page me the info. I’ll see you there.”

  “I’ll have it set up shortly.”

  “Great. And…thanks. I wouldn’t have contacted you like that if I’d known—”

  “I know, I know. Just make sure you have things closed down tight.”

  “We do. Did you find our favorite little firebug?”

  “Yeah, I’m down in Dona Ana County now working out getting him sent back up to Canyon Springs.”

  “Have anything that will stick?”

  “No, but I can jam him up for a while before he’ll get cut loose. Listen, any federal interest in this yet? Anyone who can put some pressure on Stubbs for me?”

  “Dugan’s still ours and I plan to keep him that way.”

  Dylan knew what he meant. It had happened enough times on other cases. They’d bust their asses to put the whole thing together, then the feds would waltz in and take over in the eleventh hour. Dylan wasn’t worried about garnering glory, but it rankled not to be the one to finish what he’d started. His thoughts switched to Liza. As they had far too often this night. Another thing he’d started that he wouldn’t be able to finish. As it was, he’d have to hurry to take care of her and set up the flights in and out of Vegas.