Secure Location - By Beverly Long Page 0,27
the four were white. One of the two was a big guy, much taller and heavier than the person who pushed you. The other guy, Oscar Warren, was a possibility. No good alibi for last night but his time seems pretty well tied up for yesterday. He works at a food pantry.”
“So, Oscar is off the hook?”
“Nobody is off the hook until we find the guy for sure. Let’s just say that I’m moving on for right now.”
She shook her head. “He didn’t have a heart attack or anything when you started to question him?”
Cruz shook his head. “I was playing good cop. Used all my manners. Said please and thank-you.”
She rolled her eyes. “So that still doesn’t explain how you got a ticket for the event.”
“I told Beatrice that I was your husband and that I wanted to surprise you.”
“Ex-husband.”
“Didn’t have the same ring. I think she thought it was terribly romantic.”
Beatrice was retired, after a thirty-year career in bank management. Now she was devoting her time to A Hand Up. She’d also been married to the same man for her whole adult life. It stood to reason that she’d trip right over Cruz’s story and fall in love with the whole idea.
Cruz gave her a light tap on the arm. “Better get dressed,” he said.
She wanted to argue, maybe stomp her feet or bang her head against the wall. But she knew it wouldn’t do any good. “Fine. We have to leave in thirty minutes,” she said.
Twenty-nine minutes later she knocked on the adjoining door. She’d taken a shower, fixed her hair, put on fresh makeup and slipped into her new dress.
Cruz didn’t answer the knock so she pushed the door open. The room was empty until Cruz walked out of the bathroom, playing with his tie.
Where is Waldo and what have you done with his cargo shorts?
Cruz wore a black tux, starched white shirt and burgundy cummerbund. His shoes were shined, his face shaved, and he smelled wonderful.
He looked so damn hot that she could feel vulnerable places tighten up in response. She felt unsteady and wondered if there was still time to raid the minibar.
He stared at her, his long, strong fingers still holding the ends of his tie, his dark cop-eyes telling her nothing.
“I wasn’t expecting this,” she said. Her mouth felt dry and her brain was scrambled. She’d never seen Cruz in a tux. Even at their wedding, he’d opted for a dark suit. “I don’t think you had that in your duffel bag.”
He shook his head. “Got it this morning. Can you help me with this?”
No. It meant that she’d have to get even closer. His scent would linger with her, making her needy. She’d be squirming in her chair all night. It wasn’t the kind of lasting impression she’d hoped to make on the crowd.
“Sure,” she said. She took a deep breath before walking toward him. When they’d been married and he’d made detective, he’d complained relentlessly about having to wear a tie. She’d teased him that they almost managed to make him look civilized.
He’d begged for help and she’d become the resident expert. At night, he’d loosen the knot and slip the tie off, careful to make sure that all he needed to do for the next wear was reverse the steps. When it was time for the tie to be dry-cleaned, they did the whole routine all over again.
She reached for the silk and rubbed it gently between the tips of her index finger and thumb. She heard his breath catch. His eyes were bright, his gaze intense.
Oh, Lordy. She needed to get control. Now. Or it might be never. She flipped one end over the other, threaded one through and tugged it tight. There. Done.
She stepped back so fast that she almost caught her dress in her heel. “We have to go,” she said.
“Okay,” he murmured. “You...ah...you’re beautiful.”
She stared at him. It would be so easy to slip back. It had been so long since she’d been held, loved. Wanted.
“I...I have something for you,” he said. He walked over to his dresser and picked up a small gray box. He handed it to her.
She opened it. Inside, on plain white tissue paper, was a perfectly lovely sapphire necklace.
“I don’t want you to feel obligated to wear it,” he said. “It’s just...I thought it would look nice with your eyes.”
His voice was soft, uncertain. And she felt a piece of her already-damaged heart break off.
“It’s lovely,” she said. She lifted