Authors: Adrienne Giordano
Deadly Odds (32 page)
She glanced at her watch. No time for delays in an already packed schedule.
The sound of heavy breathing pelted Lucie’s ears and she glanced over her shoulder to see a man on her heels. Some people had no respect for personal space. She gave him the Lucie Rizzo version of the narrow-eyed back-off-bub look. When the man didn’t respond to her obvious warning, she darted ahead, but Miss Elizabeth flopped to the ground with an effort that sent her sequined barrette dancing in the sunlight. Fabulous.
Lucie stared at the dog. “Get moving, girl.”
The dog could have been a statue.
A man wearing a red warm-up jacket strode toward them, his eyes focused on Miss Elizabeth in a way that caused a prickle of unease to snake up Lucie’s spine. Another space invader?
She reached for the dog, but hands clamped on her shoulders from behind and shoved her sideways. Her heart jackhammered, and the shove carried her step by step by step until the side of a red Camry loomed in her vision.
Uh-oh. Incoming
. With the force of a line drive hitting a windshield, Lucie plowed headfirst into the parked car.
“Ow!”
Pain slammed into her as she landed on all fours, her right knee taking the blow from the pavement before she rolled to her back. Swirling white birds flapped above. She blinked, realizing they weren’t birds but white spots from the whack to her head.
Had she been mugged? Couldn’t be. She didn’t have a purse.
Panic forced the hour-old kraut dog to lurch up her throat. She shifted to her knees, propped her hands under her and waited for the evacuation of her lunch. She let out a slow breath and stared at her hands.
No vomit. Good.
No leash. Bad.
No dog. Very bad.
She turned her head to where Miss Elizabeth should have been. Nothing. Could the dog have been under her when she fell? She hadn’t felt anything or heard a yelp.
Please don’t let me have fallen on her
. Lucie might be petite, but her hundred and ten pounds could still take out a three-pound dog. An image of the beloved Yorkie—lifeless—gripped her mind.
The sounds of traffic and car horns nearly blew Lucie’s aching head apart, but she peeked all around. No dog. At least she wouldn’t have to live with knowing she’d crushed Miss Elizabeth. A moment of relief sparked and disappeared.
The jerk that knocked her over had vanished and sent poor Miss Elizabeth into hiding. She couldn’t have gotten far. Her legs didn’t move that fast. Lucie dropped to the ground and checked under the cars. Nothing.
She ran to the corner, where a dark-haired man wearing a red jacket bolted through heavy traffic on State Street. She squinted hard and focused on a flash of glitter in the man’s arms. Miss Elizabeth’s sequined barrette.
“Help!” Lucie’s voice carried the high-pitched panic storming her body. “Stop him. He stole my dog.”
She stepped off the curb, but a middle-aged man in a business suit heaved her backward before a speeding cab tattooed her to the pavement. “Are you okay?”
“He stole my dog! That guy.”
Dammit
. The thief had turned the corner.
“What guy?” the man asked in a this-chick-is-nuts tone.
For a change, she didn’t care what anyone thought of her. All she cared about was losing Miss Elizabeth. “The one that’s gone.”
Fifteen minutes later, Lucie sat on a broken curb while the biting edge of anger and guilt morphed into emotional sludge.
Yes, at certain times in her life, she needed to maintain absolute emotional control.
This was not one of those times.
She drew a deep breath of Chicago’s eau de diesel fumes as a fresh line of cars turned off State Street. The rubberneckers, apparently fascinated by flashing lights on a police car, slowed to barely moving. Lucie dropped her head into her hands. Hiding would be the best way to limit eye contact with the gawkers.
The cop finished his conversation with dispatch and came around the back of the car.
“Okay, Ms….” He checked his notepad… “Rizzo. Lucia
Rizzo
.”
Lucie’s gaze drifted to the name on the uniform that had seen one too many washings. The broken-in look suited the man—this Officer Lindstrom—who kept his dusty blond hair buzzed into a crew cut that accentuated his thick neck and linebacker build. A big boy.
The man’s blue eyes drilled into her. She recognized the narrow-eyed fascination that came with wondering if she was Joe Rizzo’s daughter.
Her father, being the accused in a long string of criminal trials, left the distinction of ‘mob princess’ sitting on her like an overweight elephant. This cop was probably judging her as a lowlife. She should be used to it by now, the presumptions about her heritage and character made by people who knew nothing of her work ethic. All because of her last name. All because of her father. The jailbird. Regardless, she was a citizen who had been wronged and deserved respect.
“He’s my father,” she said.
“Joe Rizzo?”
“Yep.”
Lindstrom cocked his head. “
That’s
gotta be interesting.”
With that, Lucie snorted a half sob, half giggle.
What a lovely sound
. “You have no idea.”
“I’m sure. Anyway, we put out a BOLO. It’s still early so we might get a quick response.”
Lucie glanced up and squinted against the bright sun. “What’s a BOLO?”
“Be on the lookout. The BOLO is for a Yorkie wearing a rhinestone barrette.”
At least he didn’t laugh when he said it. Lucie closed her eyes, felt the swell of bubbling tears and let them fire down her cheeks. Crying. Just great.
“Ms. Rizzo?” Lindstrom said. “You still with me?”
With a vicious swipe, she swatted her cheeks and saw his face soften in a way that offered understanding.
He must be a dog owner
.
“I don’t know how it happened. We were walking along and—
bam
—I was on the ground and some goon was taking off with her.”
The panic rushed back, clawed at her for being so irresponsible that she’d lose a dog belonging to her most high-strung client. Well, she hadn’t actually
lost
the dog, but Lucie took the safety of her charges seriously, and this would certainly be her fault. What if the thieves hurt Miss Elizabeth? Lucie rubbed at a fresh batch of tears.
Idiot
.
Officer Lindstrom went back to his notes. “Ms. Rizzo, your dog’s name is Miss Elizabeth?”
“Call me Lucie. And she’s not my dog. I’m the walker. Tom Darcy is the owner.”
“Miss Elizabeth and…
Mr
. Darcy?”
Lucie, awed by the fact that he appreciated
Pride and Prejudice
, glanced up. “You’re a Jane Austen fan?”
He winced. “Not me. My wife. I’ve seen that damned movie six times.”
His wife.
He’s married
. Not that Lucie was looking, considering she had Frankie, but—
wow
—a guy who’d sit through
Pride and Prejudice
six times. “It’s still impressive.”
He shrugged, tapped his pen on his notepad. “Is Miss Elizabeth a show dog?”
“No. Why?”
“There’s a dog theft ring operating in the city. They steal show dogs for ransom.”
Oh, no. Poor Miss Elizabeth
.
“She looks like a show dog. She’s impeccably groomed.”
Lindstrom’s radio crackled and he spoke into the microphone on his shoulder. He finished the radio call, pulled a card from his pocket and wrote something on it. “I need to run, but here’s my card and your case number. If this is tied to the theft ring, the case will go to a detective. If not, it’ll come back to me. Either way, someone will follow up.”
Lucie took the card. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”
He jerked his head, started for his car, but turned back to her. “Is there someone you can call for a ride?”
A nice guy. Her father would never believe it of a cop. “That’s okay. I have my scooter at Mr. Lutz’s place.”
“A scooter?”
Lucie nodded. “I use a scooter to get around the city faster. My old boss lets me store it in his garage.”
“Nice former boss.”
“He’s trying to help. I was laid off six months ago. The dog walking helps pay the bills while I’m job hunting.”
Which was the reason she was sitting on this blasted curb wanting to skewer the bastard who stole Miss Elizabeth. Lucie mentally settled the queasies plaguing her belly. Maybe the whack on the head was messing with her stomach.
Lindstrom’s feet shifted in front of her. “You sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?”
As if this wasn’t embarrassing enough. “No. Thanks.”
“You should get that head checked out. At least go to your regular doctor.”
That was doable. “I will.”
Lucie watched him jump into the car, flip on the lights and drive off. Part of her wished she could join him, because she now had to inform Tom Darcy his beloved pet had been snatched.
She slid her phone from her pocket. What would she even say?
Gee, Mr. Darcy, you still have a slew of
Pride and Prejudice
characters to choose from for the name of your next dog
.
With that, she ran to the garbage can on the corner and lost the kraut dog.
Dog Collar Crime
is available now at Amazon.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading
Deadly Odds
. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please help others find it by:
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Romantic suspense books available by Adrienne Giordano
The Private Protectors series
Risking Trust
Relentless Pursuit
A Just Deception
Negotiating Point
(novella)
Harlequin Intrigue
Justifiable Cause series
The Chase
(novella)
The Evasion
(novella)
The Capture
(novella)
The Lucie Rizzo Mystery Series
Dog Collar Couture
(Romantic Mystery
)
Romantic suspense books available by Adrienne Giordano and Misty Evans
The Justice Series
Acknowledgments
The acknowledgments page! Always one of my favorite parts of writing a book. Without the help of generous people, I wouldn’t be able to do the job I love.
A giant, flashing, Vegas style thank you to George Joseph for answering my myriad of questions regarding casino operations. It’s a topic that has always fascinated me and your insight made the research all the more fun. Any mistakes are mine, but I hope I’ve gotten it right.
Thanks also to the usual suspects, Milton Grasle, John Leach and Scott Silverii who continually respond to panicked emails or texts because I’m stuck on a plot point, need to know how to knock a weapon out of someone’s hand or just need clarification on some aspect of law enforcement.
Thank you also to Jeff Rinek for sharing your knowledge. I so appreciate it!
To my pals, Tracey Devlyn, Kelsey Browning and Misty Evans, thank you, thank you, thank you for all the plotting help and encouragement. As usual, you’ve made me realize how lucky I am in the friendships I have. You are the best.
A huge thanks also to Becky Vinter for helping me with the early drafts of
Deadly Odds
. I loved working with you!
To the Dangerous Darlings, my amazing street team, thank you for the support. I’m so grateful for your help in spreading the word about my books. To the members of my Review Crew, thank you for taking the time to read and review my books.
And, finally, to “my guys”, I love you. Without you, this fantastic journey I’m on wouldn’t be possible. Muhwah!
About the Author
