Admit One (31 page)

Which was plausible. Convenient, but plausible.

Victoria asked again where he’d found it, and he told her that it was police business. She hadn’t liked that one bit. He’d asked if he could take a look at the storage facility, and she’d told him to get that warrant.

She’d pretty much clammed up after that, so he left.

But if Jimmy Owen had been in Victoria’s office at any point while he was delivering furniture, he could have noticed – maybe even lifted – the key.

He could have been planning on burglarizing the storage unit and simply didn’t get around to it before he got whacked.

Although why would he have been digging up a grave – which involved a lot of effort for a sort of iffy return, considering he had no way of knowing the condition of the coffin’s contents – when he had the key to a storage unit loaded with valuables? Something still didn’t quite jive.

Of course, that piece of black ribbon was the only evidence he had placing Owen at the gravesite that night, and that was pretty damn circumstantial.

But the fact that Owen had lived in Burke County – where those graves had been robbed – added a little more gravitas to his suspicions. Add that to what he’d just found out from Victoria, and he felt relatively confident that Owen was their man.

But that still didn’t answer who’d murdered him – because Will very much believed the man hadn’t simply been the victim of an unfortunate boating mishap – and why. And he couldn’t forget the man in the motorcycle helmet – as witnessed by Ms. Bushnell – who’d cleared out Owen’s apartment.

Lucky for them he’d missed that key.

Will paused in front of a florist’s shop, heart aching a little as he thought of Allie. The poor kid had really been through it.

Her recent troubles all seemed to start after Mason came back into town. Not that he blamed Mason, but at the same time, it was another odd coincidence.

Could Mason – unknowingly – be the source of what appeared on the surface to be some sort of incredible streak of bad luck? The man was a celebrity – more so overseas than here in the States, though he’d certainly made an impression on the people of Sweetwater. Could it be a crazy fan, a jealous ex-lover – or wannabe lover – wanting Allie out of the way? He’d heard of people doing that sort of thing. Either making the perceived competitor so frightened that they backed off, or making their life seem so complicated and messy that the love interest did the backing.

But why weren’t the threats more… overt, if that was the case? Not that the mugging hadn’t been overt, but if there had been a message there, it got lost in translation. And the flowers – it would take either someone with personal knowledge, or someone with some hacking skills in order to access Allie’s medical records. Since he didn’t think Sarah was secretly obsessed with Mason, that left hacker. Not impossible. But it still seemed an odd way to go about breaking up his sister’s budding relationship. Unless they thought Mason would be put off by her previous pregnancy, should he find out.

And if that was the case, then to hell with him.

But Will didn’t think that Mason was that big of a douche. He better not be, since he was currently doing God knew what with Will’s sister, somewhere in this very city.

Will winced. He really didn’t want that image in his head.

“Chief Hawbaker! Will!”

Will turned around to see Camellia hurrying toward him, an umbrella in one hand, a piece of white paper clutched in the other.

“Sorry,” she said, her cheeks pink with exertion, a rueful smile on her pretty face. “But Toby was insistent that you have this.”

Will accepted the piece of paper, careful not to get it wet, which turned out to be a painting of what Will guessed – judging from the uniform and the gun – was supposed to be a police officer.

Except that the uniform was pink.

“Maybe I should bring this up at the next budgetary meeting. We could start a nationwide trend.”

Cam laughed. “I think he was trying to establish common ground.”

“Either that or he has a finely honed sense of humor for a pre-schooler.” He glanced up, found himself meeting her smile while the rain fell down around them.

Her flush deepened, and after several moments, she took a small step back.

“I should get back to Toby,” she said at the same time Will said “Tell Toby I said
thanks
.”

“Right,” he said just as she answered “I will.”

Another beat passed in which both of them just stood there.

“Well,” she finally said. “It’s about time for me to close up shop, but… It was really nice to see you again, Will.”

“You, too. Take care.”

Will watched her hurry away, and then shook his head.

Apparently he’d been the one who needed glasses in high school.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

MASON
stood in the lobby of the inn he’d chosen on River Street – an old factory turned historic hotel – dripping water all over the ever-so-slightly slanted hardwood floor. The water rolled down a groove toward Allison’s feet and he glanced at her, smiling apologetically. They were both soaked to the skin. Both Joe and David had offered them their rain slickers, but they hadn’t wanted to leave them at the mercy of the elements since they would be spending the night on the boat, whereas Mason and Allie would be snug in their hotel room. Or rooms.

Hopefully, the former.

Allison’s black hair was plastered to her head so that she resembled a wet seal. And her dress…

Mason jerked his gaze back up. The cotton of her dress wasn’t particularly thick. Wet as it was, it outlined, rather clearly, the fact that – due to the deep V in the back, Mason assumed – Allison hadn’t worn a bra. Couple the wet fabric with the sub-arctic level air conditioning typical of public buildings in the South and…

Mason
really
hoped it was going to be just one room.

And he rather hoped the front desk clerk would hurry things along.

“Here,” Mason murmured, grabbing his jacket from where he’d laid it over his luggage. “It was folded, so it didn’t get terribly wet.” He draped it over her shoulders. “I’m not sure how much warmth the linen will provide, but it’s better than standing there shivering.”

“Thank you,” Allie said. She pulled it more snugly around herself, rendering the view not quite as exciting, but at least her teeth wouldn’t chatter.

Mason smiled, enjoying the view nonetheless. What was it about the male animal that made the sight of the woman you were crazy about wearing your clothes that caused a surge of fierce possessiveness?

He looked down at her feet again, examining the strappy heels, and pictured her wearing those, his jacket, and absolutely nothing else.

“What?” she whispered.

“I’m sorry?”

“You were looking at me like…”

“Like what?”

“A lion that’s just spotted a stray gazelle at the watering hole.”

He grinned. She wasn’t that far off. He brushed a hand down her wet hair, careful to avoid the spot near her temple which he suspected was still a bit tender. “The gazelle in this scenario apparently fell into the watering hole.”

“Maybe she just wanted to go for a swim to cool off.”

“Well, it does get rather hot on the savannah.”

“Gets pretty hot
in
Savannah, too.” She slid him a sideways glance. “Or at least it’s going to.”

Mason stared at her, wondering if it was actually possible for a human to spontaneously combust.

“Mr. Armitage?”

“That’s you,” Allie reminded him with a little nudge.

“Right.” Hoping that his combustive state wasn’t readily apparent to the front desk clerk – a woman who reminded him of his Great-Aunt Sheila
–
Mason made his way to the counter.

“I have you booked in two adjacent riverfront rooms on the fourth floor,” she told him.

“Very good,” Mason said, trying to will enough blood back into his brain so that he could string the appropriate words together. Unless he was badly misreading Allie, he didn’t think they’d require two rooms. But he didn’t want to be presumptuous. Perhaps he should just go ahead and check into both, and then –

Allie stepped up beside him. “I’m sorry,” she said to the clerk, her voice dripping sincerity while her hair dripped on the counter. “But I’m afraid the other half of our party isn’t able to join us. We won’t be needing the second room after all.”

“Oh,” Great-Aunt Sheila said. “Okay. Unfortunately there will be a small charge for the last minute –

“That’s fine,” Mason interrupted, trying not to spontaneously combust yet again.  He was fairly certain his clothes were beginning to steam. “Perfectly understandable. Just go ahead and charge away.”

The look she gave him suggested that she suspected he was either drunk or a crazy foreigner, or perhaps a crazy drunk foreigner, but Mason didn’t particularly care. He was now hyper aware of Allison standing beside him, of the heat from her body, of the rain-clean scent of her skin, of the way her nipples had poked through the fine cotton –

“Here we are.” The woman slid the little plastic keycard across the counter. “I’m afraid you just missed our wine and cheese reception, though the bar will of course still be serving.” She rattled off some more information about the city, the hotel, the amenities, the wifi – as if they were going to be on the bloody internet tonight, perhaps tweeting a play-by-play of events – until Mason thought that he might legitimately explode.  “If you’d like to wait just a moment, I can have one of the bellhops show you to your room.”

“That’s entirely unnecessary,” Mason said, coming up with what he hoped was a charming smile rather than simply a bearing of his teeth. “I’m sure we’ll be able to find our way.”

There was a pause as the Great-Aunt Sheila look-alike studied him over the top of her glasses. Like her English doppelganger, who’d terrified him as a lad, Mason suspected she knew exactly what he was about. “Take a left off the elevator,” she finally said. “Although considering we’re actually on the third floor here, it might be quicker if you take the stairs.”

“Right. Thank you.”

He shouldered the bags with one hand, grabbed Allison’s with the other.

“You know,” Allie said as they exited the lobby into the open air stairwell that went from River Street two stories below to the upper floor above. “I get the distinct impression that she thought we were in a hurry.”

“That’s because we are.”

She smothered a laugh, and Mason smiled in her direction. “You see what you’ve reduced me to? So much for the reserve for which my countrymen are so famous. We might as well have been wearing T-shirts that said
I Just Came Here To Get Laid.”

This time she laughed in earnest. “I’d pay to see you in one of those.”

“And I’d pay to see you
out
of one of those,” he murmured, pausing to study the room numbers to make sure he was heading the right way. “But since I don’t have one, and since paying to see you out of anything adds a rather tawdry tone to the evening, I’m simply going to have to hope that a T-shirt of any sort won’t be a prerequisite to eventual nudity.”

“Mason,” she said, tugging on his hand to get him to slow down his pace. “Thank you. For going to the trouble to set me at ease.”

He stopped in front of their room, moved by the trust he saw in her eyes. “You’re welcome.” He brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek. “I would say something profound here, but if I’m to be honest, there’s very little blood flowing toward my brain.”

“We should do something about that.”

“A capital idea if I’ve ever heard one.”

He stuck the card into the lock, which continued to glow red. He tried it again, confounded when it didn’t work. He was just contemplating the various ways he could kill the front desk clerk – who was obviously out to get him – and dispose of the body when Allie reached around him, turning the card around.

“You had it backwards,” she said, lips compressed to hold in her laughter.

“I don’t think I’m normally this incompetent,” he told her.

“I think it’s cute.”

“Cute.” He pushed open the door, ushered her inside. “Just what every man wants to hear under the circumstances.”

The room was cool and dim, the grayish light of the inclement evening filtering through French doors.  Somewhere on the river, a ship blew its horn, the sound carrying along the water.

Mason sat their bags down, switching a lamp on low while Allie, having eyed the king-sized poster bed with speculation, walked toward the doors, which led out onto a small wrought iron balcony. 

She opened the doors, visibly drew in a breath of the rain-scented air.

“I know it’s crazy,” she said as she turned around “considering we just came in here to get out of the rain, but I love listening to it. Do you mind if I leave these open?”

At that moment, he wouldn’t mind if she’d asked him to build a fire in the middle of the floor and do a rain dance around it. “Of course I don’t mind.”