Can't Keep a Brunette Down (27 page)

"Daily." Mick leaned on his elbow and smirked. "Since I owe Gary fifty grand, he took the keys to my condo as collateral. Chloe got hold of them. For the record, she and I have never lived together, nor do I want to. Actually, I've been trying to shake her off."

"Fifty grand?" She struggled to breathe. Razi hadn't exaggerated. "What kind of moron owes fifty grand to a bookie?"

"One that trusts his former girlfriend to place a bet, and instead of betting fifty bucks, she bets five thousand just to screw with him."

"Oh, brother." Gilda fell back onto her pillow. "I never thought I'd say this, but you're an idiot. Get out of my bedroom."

"You never thought you'd tell me to get out of your bedroom?" he asked.

She rolled over and hit him with her pillow. "You know what I mean."

"Seriously, I'm in real danger here. Someone has killed two black belts in my school, and Chloe's dad wants my head on a platter." He wiggled closer. "Honey, your bedroom is the safest place in town."

"That's not exactly flattering to hear, you know." She shoved him away. "I thought you and Gary met for coffee. Why didn't you tell him you wouldn't make bets you couldn't pay?"

"Because I can pay my debts. And, for the record, I did explain, but since the bet was made in my name, I'm doing the right thing. It's just taking longer than I expected."

Gilda fluffed up her pillow and lay on her stomach. "So, why don't you kick her out and move back into your condo?"

Mick rolled onto his back. "I needed time to cash in some other investments. Chloe isn't willing to wait until I free up the cash. She convinced him to kick me out."

"And you think Gary would much rather break your legs than wait for the money."

"Speaking of Gary," he said, "I ran into Happy the other day, who said you've been hanging out with him a lot lately."

Gilda sighed. "He and my dad went way back, and Gary seems to feel some weird sense of responsibility for me, especially since I work for you."

"Your dad's a gambler?" he asked. "Does he owe money too?"

"No." She hesitated. "My dad was a cop."

Mick clapped his hands over his face. "Why didn't I see that coming? Did he retire? We could really use his help about now."

Tears sprang to her eyes. "One of Gary's accomplices shot him during a robbery."

"Oh, man. I'm sorry. It must be hard to see him all the time lately." He reached for her hand. "I guess that's why you're so nosy. You have the cop gene. He'd be proud of you for trying."

She rolled onto her side to face him. "Why are you really here?"

"In Sandstone Cove, or in your bed?" A sheepish grin covered his face. When she scowled, he pulled her closer. "I'm kidding, Sherlock. You're the only person in town who still talks to me, besides Razi and Xavier."

"You're a bad liar."

"Okay, you're right. There are the girls at Café Beanz and your friend Happy, who creeps me out the way he checks me out every time I'm in there." Mick blew out a sigh that made her hair flutter in her face. He brushed the stray strand out of her face. "How can someone like you be so sweet? Life throws you a curveball, and you deflect it every time."

"What do you mean?" She should move away from him for her own sanity, but she wanted to melt against the warmth of his body.

"Thayer, for one. Walter and Erik turning up dead. Either you're in denial or—"

"I'm not the killer," she said.

He ran his hand through her hair. "I never thought you were."

"Even after what I did to Thayer?" Her heart raced so fast that she was short of breath and found it hard to focus. "Everybody in town must think I'm…" She grasped for the right word.

Mick nuzzled her ear. "Too sweet and innocent."

She moved back before he completely distracted her. "No, I'm not. I'm mean and evil."

"Sure you are," he said.

"Thayer called me a witch after I shoved him into a rosebush."

His eyes widened and he burst into laughter; his breath warmed her face. "I'm sure he deserved it. You probably tell us off in your head all the time."

"Now you're a mind reader?"

"Body language reader." Mick placed a hand on the curve of her waist and then gave her a lingering kiss that made her stomach flutter and her toes curl. "You're amazing, Sherlock. Too bad it took us all until now to realize that. Good to know I have a friend who will let me hide out when I'm in trouble."

When he rolled out of her bed and padded down the hall to the bathroom, her self-esteem swelled, and she smiled as she stretched. She finally had a shot at getting to know Mick even better than she'd dreamed. Too bad all he wanted was a friend who would let him hide out.

Her nostrils flared as her confidence took a fast nose dive. How dare he strike where she was most vulnerable? Mick Williams was in her bed, and all he'd wanted was a place to hide. She groaned and pulled the blankets over her head. The thought was disheartening, and then some.

When the bathroom door opened, she lunged across the bedroom and slammed the bedroom door. "You are such a louse."

He tapped at the door then rattled the doorknob. "Hey, what's going on?"

"A reality check." She threw the blankets into a heap on the bed. "I am so tired of you and Thayer using me just to make yourselves happy. What about me? Doesn't anybody care what I want?"

"What? Have you lost your mind?" he asked. "Come on, Gilda. My clothes are in there. Let me come in so we can talk."

"No way." Gilda pulled on shorts and a tank top. "Go make coffee and wait while I get dressed."

He thumped on the door. "All I want is my jeans and shirt."

"Well, you should've thought of that before you left them in here." She pulled off the tank top and yanked on a sports bra. What was he doing to her?

Her mind was no longer in the bedroom but on Mick standing out in the hallway in his underwear, which ironically enough, led her thoughts back into the bedroom and made her growl. What was wrong with her? Desperation. She hadn't dated anyone since she broke up with Thayer and had poured her heart and soul into her work, garden, and training.

"Come on, Gilda. Let me in. I promise I'll…" Mick paused then groaned. "Oh, crap. What are you doing here? This really isn't what you think."

"Mick?" The small hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she pressed her ear against the door. "Who are you talking to?"

"Me." Thayer's voice reverberated through the wood. "Why don't you open the door and explain to me why his clothes are in your bedroom?"

"I don't have to explain anything to you. Get out of my house." She pulled on her tank top for the second time then picked up Mick's clothes, which still smelled like musk and spearmint gum. Her heart skipped a beat. "How did you get in here, anyway?"

"Gilda, can you hurry up, please?" Mick asked. "I really don't like the way he's looking at my abs."

"Shut up," Thayer said. "Why are your clothes in her bedroom?"

"Guess."

"That's none of your business." She opened the door and threw the jeans and T-shirt at Mick. "What are
you
doing in my house? You should've knocked."

"I did, but—"

Gilda huffed, hands clenched on her hips. "Did it ever occur to you I could be in the shower or asleep or even gone for a run?"

Thayer's face reddened so fast she guessed at least a couple of those thoughts had entered his head. He'd broken into her house hoping to catch her with her guard down. "Not after two murders at the karate school."

"Good point." Mick, still shirtless, zipped his jeans. "I would've broken in too."

"You
did
break in, and I'm starting to think about pressing charges." Her head throbbed. "Neither of you has any reason to be in my house."

"That's not true," Mick said. "I only came in because I was worried when you didn't answer the door. For all I knew, the killer had found out where you lived."

"Is this true?" Thayer asked.

"I was asleep!" She pushed between both men and headed toward the kitchen. "He broke in and hid in my bedroom to save his own bacon, just like when he broke down my front door the last time, which he still owes me money for, by the way."

Thayer's eyebrows disappeared beneath his bangs. "You broke down her door?"

"Only once. I didn't break it down this time, though. I used a key." Mick reached her before Thayer did and lowered his head to hers. "I can get rid of him if you want."

Hands shaking, she poured water into the coffeemaker reservoir. "I want you both gone."

Thayer sat at the table. "I'm not leaving. I have some questions for you."

"Then come back after I've had coffee, breakfast, and a shower. Maybe I'll be in a much better mood." She turned to Mick. "You too."

"I'm not leaving until he does." Thayer folded his arms across his chest and leaned back.

"Oh, grow up." Mick rolled his eyes and leaned his head so close to Gilda's that his breath warmed her cheek. "I'll get rid of him for you."

"Don't bother," she said. "You're going with him."

"I don't have anywhere to go."

She folded her arms over her stomach. "Don't make me give you directions. I don't care where either one of you goes. Just get out of my house."

"Sure you care. You just don't know it yet." Mick's lips brushed her ear, resurrecting the thoughts of him wearing nothing but boxer shorts. She sucked in a sharp breath right before he turned to Thayer. "Why don't you and I go get breakfast and let the lady have some peace? Come on. I'll buy."

Thayer opened his mouth to object, but Mick slapped a firm hand on his shoulder and steered him out of her house. When Thayer sputtered and tried to turn back, Mick hooked an arm around his neck and yanked him out the door.

Gilda brought the spare key inside then locked the front door, the back door, and every single window until she was convinced no one else could enter. She even put duct tape over the mail slot. Still agitated after a long, cold shower, she polished off half a pot of coffee and focused on making a protein shake for breakfast.

The phone rang while she blended her shake, but she ignored it, in no mood to speak to anyone. The ringing stopped when she pressed the off button on the blender. Whoever it was hadn't bothered to leave a message.

"Good." She poured the mango and pineapple concoction into a travel mug and sipped.

If she headed for the beach and tried hard enough, she could imagine herself alone somewhere in the tropics. On her way out the door, she grabbed a steamy Katarina von Herrington romance Marion loaned her weeks ago. Murder mysteries were no longer welcome in her house. Ever.

She hoped neither Thayer nor Mick would find her until she'd thought things through. Thayer was relatively harmless. All talk, no action. He claimed to want her back but hadn't made any real attempt. Well, not until he broke into her house, anyway.

When her thoughts turned to Mick, a surge of heat pulsed through her. He'd professed his love for her, crawled to her when he was drunk, and let her cry on his shoulder repeatedly. She'd even woken up next to him, exactly what she'd longed for since they met two years earlier. So why did his clinging to her when he needed a friend and her romantic reactions to him now feel so wrong?

 

"Hey, slow down." Fabio, carrying two cups of coffee and a paper bag, fell into step beside her on the way to the beach. "I saw you when I was at Café Beanz. You haven't seen Thayer lately, have you?"

"Yeah," she said. "I kicked him and Mick out of my house an hour ago. They were going for breakfast."

"They were in the same room in your house together?" Fabio's eyes widened. "What were they doing there?"

Once they reached the sand, Gilda kicked off her flip-flops to carry them. "Mick apparently came into my bedroom last night to hide from the world. Thayer broke into my house this morning when I didn't answer the door. What was he doing there anyway?"

Fabio grimaced. "He was supposed to watch your house while I got coffee."

Glad to see her favorite log unoccupied, she sat on the names, dates, and initials etched in the log's weathered surface and sipped her shake. "Why are you being nice to me?"

He eased down next to her and reached into the bag. "Because I think you're stuck in the middle of a bunch of lunatics and could use a friend."

She eyed the muffin cradled in his hands. Chocolate chunk. A solid dose of chocolate would go a long way. "Why would you call them lunatics?"

"Why do you think?" Fabio held the muffin out to her. "Want one? He can get his own."

"No thanks. Walter was a teacher who liked little girls. Erik wanted his own school but went about it the wrong way," she said. "I can't believe I was the one who found both their bodies. Doesn't that make me look guilty?"

He shook his head and handed over the muffin anyway. "No, and to be honest, none of the guys you work with suspected you, so we never did either."

"Never?" She raised her eyebrows. "Seriously?"

"You sound oddly disappointed, which scares me a whole lot." Fabio sipped his coffee. "Finding two dead bodies in a row does look pretty suspicious, but you really had no motive to kill anyone. When the murderer knocked you out cold, we knew we were right."

Waves lapped the shore, and tourists slowly invaded the beach. She admired the confidence of anyone who wore skimpy bathing suits despite being overweight, since she didn't have that kind of intestinal fortitude, even after losing twenty pounds. She still had a lot more confidence to gain.

"Mick never doubted you." Fabio broke the silence.

She fumbled what was left of the muffin. "Mick? Why would you say that?"

"It was no coincidence I ended up in Sandstone Cove. He and I used to train together in Detroit before I became a cop. Mick got his black belt, then his second degree black belt, and opened the school." He bowed his head. "I wanted to train with Mick again, but we had a falling out. When I called the other day, he said never to show up at his school again."

"That was you?" Gilda asked. "I thought he'd kicked Chloe out. Someone called from Mick's condo the day Walter died. I thought it was her."