Say No To Joe? (33 page)

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Authors: Lori Foster

BOOK: Say No To Joe?
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“All right!” Austin took off at a run, darting around customers and aisles alike.
Joe moved closer to Dinah, closer and closer until she held her breath and her eyes widened and a frantic pulse fluttered in her white throat. She was a vision of shock, wariness and extreme interest.
Joe counted on the interest—he needed it to get what he wanted.
Standing close, Joe gently fingered a lock of hair lying over her shoulder, close to her left breast. Voice low, he asked, “What were you doing, working for Patricia?”
Her lips moved twice before words emerged. “What do you mean?”
Breathless. Good. “Just as you said you can't picture a man like me going the domestic route, it doesn't quite fit a woman like you, either.” Joe looked at her trembling mouth and allowed a small smile. “You, Dinah Belle, are much too much woman to be keeping house.”
Her eyes turned soft, smoky and adoring. “I . . . I needed the job.”
Stammering. Even better. Luna never stammered around him. It was nice to see he hadn't entirely lost his touch. “Surely Patricia could see you weren't a frumpy housekeeper. She wasn't blind.”
“I had a good recommendation.”
“Yeah? Now what fool would recommend you for such a demeaning job?” Joe dragged the back of his hand lower until his knuckles brushed the plumped-up flesh of her breast.
Heat washed over her face and her eyes closed. “Quincy Owen.”
“Ah.” Joe dropped his hand and stepped back from her. The sensual undertones disappeared from his voice. “You two know each other well, do you?”
Blinking fast, Dinah brought herself back to reality. Confusion over what had just happened kept her expression vague. “No. That is, we're acquaintances.” And almost as an afterthought, she added, “Quincy is happily married.”
“With a stepson.”
“Yes.” Knowing she'd been used, Dinah huffed. “He's a good man.”
“Yeah, right. And he sent you to Patricia out of the goodness of his heart, huh?”
A frown marred her brow. “He wanted to be helpful, yes. He knew she had her hands full with those two. They'd been running wild and with no father around to keep them in line—”
Joe turned his back on her and made his way to the checkout. Dinah stayed on his heels until Joe had paid for the tampons and candy, and stepped outside. Ignoring her, Joe looked up at the sky and saw that dark clouds had moved in. The air smelled thick with an impending storm that suited his current mood just fine.
Hoping to get home before the downpour hit, he started toward his truck but he'd only taken two steps when he saw a man in dark glasses and a hat glance toward him, duck his head and hurry away. Beneath the hat and above the collar of the man's shirt, Joe could just detect the hair.
Blond.
Fury, suspicion gathered.
Not Quincy. No, this man was too tall, too broad shouldered, too solid. Joe watched as he disappeared around the corner of the lot at a fast clip.
By instinct alone, Joe started to go after him. He would have him this time, and he'd beat him to a pulp. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, making his breath come fast, his vision narrow with purpose. He started forward—and Austin tugged on his hand, asking, “Can I have some of the licorice now?”
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
Austin stared up at Joe, hopeful, innocent, too young to be left alone on the sidewalk while he chased after a damned nut case. Joe felt impotent, and that pissed him off.
Dinah chose that inauspicious moment to demand Joe's attention. “What are you going to do?”
Frustration riding him hard, Joe cut her with his gaze. “About what, damn it?”
Her mouth fell open at his acerbic tone. “About what I told you,” she hissed, aware of passersby on the sidewalk around them. “About Quincy.”
Attention divided, Joe looked back at the street just in time to see the brown sedan that had followed them into town. It pulled out of a parking lot close to where Joe had left his truck, then drove away. Had Bruno Caldwell sent a henchman? Bruno was such a small-time Neanderthal creep, Joe doubted he could afford that. No, Bruno tended to do his own dirty work. Who was the blond man?
Austin said, a little worried now, “Joe?”
Absently, torn between responsibilities, Joe ordered, “Eat your licorice, Austin.”
He didn't need to be told twice. Austin nearly tore the bag open in his haste to get the candy.
“Joe?” Dinah's tone was far more whiny than Austin's had been.
Joe turned to her, his fury barely contained. “Tell Quincy I've had enough, Dinah.”
Her eyes widened.
Joe took Austin's hand to hurry him across the street. “Tell him I'm coming to see him.”
She looked paralyzed by the mere thought. She called his name twice, but Joe had just noticed a folded slip of paper on his windshield and didn't spare Dinah the time.
When she realized he wouldn't reply, she yelled, “Damn you, Joe Winston!” and then, with several spectators looking on, she got into her car and squealed away.
Was she going to Quincy? Joe would find out. Somehow, he just knew the two of them were well acquainted.
Careful to touch no more than one corner, Joe pulled the small square of paper from beneath his wiper and shook it open. He didn't need his glasses to read the bold, masculine scrawl:
Your firebug drives a hatchback. Just thought you'd want to know.
Joe's head snapped up. Dinah's taillights came on briefly as she made a pretense of obeying a stop sign, before she again burned rubber in her haste to get away.
In a hatchback. The stupid bitch.
 
 
Luna answered on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Hey, honey, it's me.”
“Joe?”
He rolled his eyes and steered around a pothole in the road. The sky was getting darker by the moment, and the wind had picked up, whistling around them, bending trees. “Is there another man who calls you honey? If so, tell him to get lost.”
She laughed, and with the way Joe felt at the moment, even her laugh could send him into an oblivion of tenderness and lust. “Sorry, you just took me by surprise. Are you almost home? I don't want you to get caught in the storm.”
Home. The more he heard it, the more Joe liked it. He'd lived in numerous apartments, but they'd only been places to bed down. They'd never been permanent. They'd never been home. “The pizzas should still be warm when we get there.”
“Pizzas, as in plural?”
“I can eat one myself, so I got three.”
“Oh.”
“I just wanted to make sure you're staying inside. I spoke with Willow before, but she said you were in the shower.”
“Willow is napping and I was fussing with my hair.”
Joe groaned past an indulgent smile. “What color is it now?”
She sniffed. “I never said I changed the color.”
“It's okay, honey. I'm surprised you held out this long.”
She went silent only a second or two before saying with a shrug in her voice, “Okay, so it has red streaks now.”
“Red, huh?”
“Very red. Like almost purple. But it looks great.” Joe laughed. “I'll get to see for myself soon.” This was probably the longest Luna had gone without changing her hair. Deep inside, she was still the free spirit who'd first attracted him. And he was glad. He never wanted her to change. “Lock the doors and don't let anyone in but me.”
“Joe?” A new attentiveness laced her tone. “What's going on?”
Joe said to Austin, “Don't get your sticky fingers on my leather seats, son. Here.” He handed him a napkin.
Austin looked more asleep than awake as he swiped his fingers over the napkin. One long piece of licorice still hung from his mouth and his eyelids were drooping. Joe grinned, eased the candy away and that easily, Austin slumped against the door and started snoring.
“Austin is listening?”
“Maybe. I think he might've just fallen asleep, but I'm not sure.” Austin shifted around to get comfortable, folding one hand beneath his cheek. His lips were cherry red, matching his fingers.
“Then just tell me—is something wrong?”
“Possibly. Remember the brown sedan? I spotted it in town.”
“Oh, God.”
“Now, don't panic.” The last thing Joe wanted to do was scare her. “I'm going to call Scott right now. He'll check into things and put the word around to watch for the car.” Two cars, Joe reminded himself, taking Dinah's hatchback into account. “I also ran into Dinah, and she had some interesting things to tell me. I'll clue you in tonight, okay?”
“Promise me you'll be careful, Joe. Do
not
go chasing anyone, do you understand me?”
Luna always got demanding when she worried. There was a time when a woman fretting over him would have been annoying, and no way in hell would he have allowed a woman to issue orders. But with Luna, he liked it. “I've got Austin with me, remember? I'm not going to put him at risk.”
“Joe?” She said his name softly, the way females did when they got emotional. “I . . .”
Joe waited, everything male within him standing at attention. When the silence dragged out, he prompted her with, “Yeah?”
But she only said again, “Be careful.”
“Right. Talk to you soon.” Joe refused to face his disappointment over the lackluster goodbye. So, she hadn't said anything profound. She would. Eventually.
He dialed the sheriff's department and asked to be put through to Scott Royal. Seconds later, Scott accepted the call, saying right off, “Tell me there hasn't been more trouble.”
“Nothing tangible.” Joe knew he had to go carefully here. Scott might be a friendly acquaintance, but he was still a lawman. Having been one himself, Joe knew that they didn't like outsiders coming onto their territory and running the show. “I have some questions for you, and maybe a favor or two.”
“Shoot.”
“The favor first. Can you keep an eye out for a brown sedan?”
“The guy you thought was following you here?”
“I saw him today in town. I couldn't go after him because I had Austin with me, but he was hanging around near my truck. I found a note.”
“A note?” The question was sparked with new interest. “Do you still have it?”
“I have it. You can come by the house tonight and pick it up, but it's not anything threatening. It just said that my firebug drives a hatchback.” Joe paused, building to his point. “You know who has a car like that?”
Judging by the sounds he detected, Scott had just relaxed back in his chair. “I know a rhetorical question when I hear one.”
“Dinah Belle. She cornered me at the pharmacy and damn near molested me in an aisle.” Thankfully, Austin slept on. “She left in a huff, driving a hatchback. Coincidence?”
“Shit. As I recall, you don't believe in coincidences.”
“Not often, no.”
“And I don't believe in chicken-shit notes. If the guy has information for you, why not just come up to you and tell you so?”
Though Scott couldn't see him, Joe shrugged. He'd asked himself the same question a dozen times already. “Why lie about it?”
“Let me get this straight. Some asshole who followed you here leaves you a note, and now you think Dinah is the one who set that fire and scratched up your truck?”
“No, that was definitely a man. But how well does Dinah know Quincy Owen?”
Joe got the expected reaction to that question. There was a thump and a muffled curse. “Ah hell, Joe, you're not going to blame Quincy, are you?”
Joe laughed at Scott's woebegone begging. “You don't think he's capable of it?”
“Apparently you do.” Another groan. “And I have to assume you have your reasons, which I'm just dying to hear, by the way, because the surveillance tape you left with me didn't show a goddamned thing.”
“It gave us blond hair.” Even as he spoke, Joe considered different angles and possibilities. “And this morning, after that nasty paint job on the shed, I saw smooth-soled shoe prints in the ground. Those two things fit Quincy.”
“And a hundred other people in town. He's not the only blond businessman, you know. And besides, I thought you decided the guy following you from your home was a blonde. He's here in town, skulking around and leaving you notes. He's damn well up to something.”

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