Rose Quartz (5 page)

“Have no idea.” Hank had no intention of sharing his theories with Atlanta’s finest. He jammed his hands in his pocket and shifted his weight, splaying his legs. “I just got in town. Bella was out. I waited around ‘til she got home.”

“When did she get home?”

“About ten o’clock,” Hank said.

“And when did Amato allegedly try to run her down?”

Hank straightened his jaw tight. “There was no allegedly about it. He tried to murder her.” Just thinking about it made his blood boil. For a brief moment he saw pure red. He blinked, shifted his shoulders and forced himself to relax. “About eleven.”

The policeman looked at George.

George nodded. “That would be about right.”

Officer Gordon looked at Hank. “So why were you sitting in your truck an hour after she got home?”

Hank looked shamefaced. “I was trying to decide whether to go on up or wait until morning. She didn’t know I was coming. I wanted to surprise her.”

The cop gave him a hard skeptical look. “You don’t strike me as the wishy-washy type.”

“Have you seen the lady?” Hank asked, rocking back on his heels.

“Not up close.”

“It’s hard to think straight when you’re in her vicinity.”
And wasn
’
t that the gods
’
truth
?
“You’ll see what I mean.”

Officer Gordon turned to George. “You know this man.”

George looked him right in the eye, even though he had to look up to do it. “I know all I need to know about him.”

Officer Gordon slapped his notebook closed. “Let’s go talk to Ms. Tremaine.” He strode to the elevator.

As they rode the elevator, Hank unbuttoned his tattered shirt, planning on taking it off. He wasn’t quite sure how Bella would react to seeing all the blood spattered on him and he didn’t want to spook her.

The elevator door slid silently open.

His hands dropped to his sides and his heart did a hard slam against his ribs. Bella stood in the doorway, waiting for them. George must have buzzed her the moment they stepped on the elevator.

She’d changed into a chocolate brown, gauzy smock and Capri jeans. Her feet were bare and her toenails painted scarlet.

Their gaze locked. She stood as if turned to stone. He forced his feet to move one in front of the other, absently pushing back the long silver doors of the elevator as they started to close.

She broke eye contact first. Her gaze swept over him. He heard her sharp intake of breath as she rushed forward. Reaching out her hands, she grazed his face with her fingertips, felt his shoulders then traveled her fingers down his ribs. Scalding heat followed everywhere she touched.

“Where are you hurt?” She pressed her fingertips against his stomach.

He took a step back, almost bumping into the elevator, and stilled her hands, clasping them. “I’m fine, Bella. I’m not hurt.”

“But all that blood.” Her hands shook. Her body trembled.

“Not mine.”

Officer Gordon cleared his throat. “Ms. Tremaine?”

Her eyes swept over Hank, still looking for injury. Satisfied he was telling the truth, she turned to Officer Gordon. “Yes.”

Hank took one look at the foolish expression on the officer’s face and didn’t know whether to curse or laugh.

Bella touched her amulet.

Hank sighed.
Here we go
. He looked at her closely. There was no one thing he could put his finger on. No noticeable transformation but the beauty that she wore like a cloak thrown over her shoulders intensified. No one would notice if they weren’t watching closely. They would simply be dazzled.

He looked at the policeman. Officer Gordon’s mouth hung open and his eyes were glazed. Hank gave him a sharp prod with his elbow. Damn fool.

The officer jerked as if coming out of a trance. “I’m Officer Gordon, ma’am. I’m responding to the call you made earlier. May I come in?”

“Of course.”

The door stood open from when she’d rushed out to check on Hank. With an outstretched hand, she motioned them in.

Officer Gordon trooped in. Hank waited for Bella to precede him.

She flashed him a smile that brought his heart to his throat.

The policeman gawked as he glanced around the room. Hank did some gawking of his own. The room was full of contrasts like Bella herself. Warm and lush. Cool and soothing. The walls were painted a pristine white with vibrant paintings placed strategically around the room. Track lighting over the pictures drew the viewer’s attention to exotic flowers artfully arranged in cleverly designed vases. They seemed so real Hank could have sworn he smelled them. Then realized it was the sultry fragrance Bella was wearing.

His feet sank into carpet as soft and lush as summer grass. But it was cream-colored, for god’s sake. He looked down at his scuffed boots and hoped he hadn’t tracked anything in.

“Officer, can I get you some coffee?” Bella’s voice broke through his preoccupation.

The hard-nosed cop was actually shuffling his feet.

“Yes, ma’am,” the policeman responded.

She arched a brow. “Sugar? Cream?”

“Black.”

She didn’t bother to ask Hank. He hoped it was because she remembered not because she was royally pissed off. Though why she would be he wasn’t sure. Then again it had been his experience over the years, women didn’t need a reason to get a good mad on.

“Please sit down. I’ll be right back.” Both men looked around at the overstuffed latte-colored sofa and apricot chairs and sat down gingerly. Officer Gordon had taken a chair, leaving the sofa for Hank. That was just fine with him. Bella would have to sit down somewhere. It might as well be next to him where he could inhale her fragrance and enjoy the warmth of her proximity. On second thought maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. He pushed himself off the couch and, hands in his pockets, prowled around.

Bella came back carrying a large silver tray with three steaming mugs of coffee. Each cup bore a different flower motif.

Hank strode over to her and reached for the tray. “Let me take that.”

She glided around him and sat it on the coffee table. “I’ve got it, cowboy.”

He frowned, puzzled. Why was everyone calling him cowboy?

She handed each man a cup. Officer Gordon sat on the edge of his chair and Hank moved to the side of the sofa. She lifted a well-sculpted eyebrow. “Care to sit down?”

“I’ll stand,” Hank said, his hands wrapped around the hot mug.

Officer Gordon took a sip of his coffee then leaned over and sat it on the glass-topped coffee table. He pulled out his notebook and a pen. “Now, Ms. Tremaine, can you tell me what happened?”

Bella balanced her cup in her palm. “I saw Mr. McHenry’s truck parked across the street and was walking out to invite him in when a car with its lights off came out of nowhere.”

She hunched her shoulders, bit on her lip then looked up again. She took a deep cleansing breath and said, “If Mr. McHenry hadn’t leaped out of his truck and played Superman I’d be at the very least seriously injured if not dead.” She looked straight at Hank, her sapphire eyes drawing him in like an ocean’s undercurrent. “Thank you.”

He gave her a clipped nod, uncertain he was capable of speech, his heart beating rapidly enough to cut off his air supply.

His eyes intent, Officer Gordon asked, “Ms. Tremaine, do you have any idea who tried to run you down?”

She shook her head, causing her golden hair to fan out around her face then fall back in place. “No.”

He leaned forward, holding her gaze. “Who would want to kill you?”

“I have no idea,” she said and touched the amulet.

Instantly, her beauty notched up. The effect was like walking up to a force field and getting thrown off your feet. Hank stepped behind the couch, leaned down and growled in her ear, “Don’t overdo it.” Then said in a more normal voice, “Can I get you some coffee, Isabella?”

“No, sugar, I’m perfectly all right,” she drawled, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

She turned back to Officer Gordon. “Do you think perhaps it’s a crazed fan?” She shrugged, a pretty feminine gesture. “It happens in my line of work or any other where you are in the public eye.”

Officer Gordon wore a glazed, dead-fish expression. Bella leaned forward, making it worse. “What do you think, Officer?”

“About what, ma’am?”

Hank resisted a strong urge to slap the officer upside the head and ask if anyone was home.

“Do you think it might be a crazed fan?” Bella asked, her eyes wide.

“Of course.” Officer Gordon nodded his agreement.

Bella settled back into the couch, breaking eye contact.

The officer blinked and reached for his coffee. He took a deep gulp, sat it down then shook himself. “Ma’am, do you know Danny Amato?”

Bella shook her head.

“What about Johnny Morelly?”

Bella straightened. “Who doesn’t?”

“Do you have any reason to think he might try to hurt you?” Officer Gordon held the pen poised against the pad.

“Johnny?”

The officer leaned forward more alert. “You’re on a first-name basis?”

“Yes.”

Hank stiffened.

“How well do you know him?”

“Casually.”

Officer Gordon cleared his throat. “Have you ever gone out with him?”

“I don’t date married men, Officer.” Bella’s voice was cool.

“Has he ever asked you out?” Officer Gordon shifted in his chair.

“Yes, but it was over a year ago. I told him no. He took it in good stride.” Her lush red lips curled in a smile. “He even bought one of my paintings for his wife. A cherub vase filled with orchids as I remember.” She zeroed in like a pointer. “Why?”

“Danny Amato, the thug who tried to run you down, works for Johnny Morelly.” Officer Gordon set the pen down and took a sip of his coffee.

“Really?” She tapped a red manicured fingernail against an equally red lip, her expression pensive. “Why, I wonder?”

“Don’t know, ma’am, I was hoping you could tell me.”

She shook her head. “I have no idea. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Hank took a slug of his rapidly cooling coffee.
Do you believe that
,
Bella
,
or are you just saying that for the officer
’
s benefit
?
Either way I intend to find out
.

As if on cue, Officer Gordon rose.

The policeman shoved his notebook and pen in his pocket. “Don’t you worry about anything, Ms. Tremaine, I intend to get to the bottom of this. I’ll also do a drive-by.”

“I appreciate that, Officer.”

“Bella, I think Officer Gordon was hoping for an autograph for his wife,” Hank put in.

“Why of course, I’d be happy to give you one.” She nodded toward Officer Gordon’s front pocket where the notebook protruded. “Could you could spare me a sheet of paper?”

He pulled it out of his pocket and ripped out a sheet.

“What’s her name?”

“Wilma.”

She picked a pencil up off the table and said aloud as she wrote, “To Wilma, Best Regards.” With a few quick strokes she signed her name, embellishing the signature with tiny flowers. “There you go, Officer.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Carefully, he put it in his pocket then pulled out his business card with his precinct number on it and handed it to her. “If you think of anything that may prove helpful give me a call.”

“Thank you, Officer, I will.” With practiced ease, she ushered him out then shut the door and flipped the lock. She turned to Hank and fisted her hands on her hips. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“For starters what are you doing here?”

“What do you think?”

“Don’t play games with me, sugar,” she snapped. Her eyes flashed cobalt fire. “I know you came down here to protect me.” She stalked up to him and planted her index finger right in his chest. “And planned on sitting out in that damn truck all night to do it instead of showing the sense you were born with and coming inside where you could at least get comfortable.”

He winced as the sharp crescent-shaped nail dug into his flesh.

“It seemed like the thing to do at the time,” he mumbled.

Hands on hips, she snapped, “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

The air sizzled with her angry energy. Smart enough to know that he’d scared her, that she was worried about him not herself, he wisely kept his mouth shut just looked at her, one eyebrow cocked.

The silence stretched between them.

Breaking it, she said in a sulky voice, “Thank you for saving my life.”

“You’ve already thanked me but you’re welcome.” He dipped his chin in a clipped nod.

She heaved a sigh and he felt her anger dissipate.

“Let’s try again. Thank you, Hank McHenry, for saving my life.”

He smiled a slow smile and his features relaxed. “My pleasure, Isabella Tremaine. Did anyone ever tell you your name fits you perfectly? It’s both beautiful and mysterious.”