So About the Money (18 page)

She wanted to run her finger over the spot. Memories tangled with the present reality. Who was this man? He’d matured into a ruggedly handsome adult. Her gaze shifted along his cheek to his mouth. He had firm, masculine lips. His neck and shoulders were nice—strong and muscular, without becoming one of those no-neck bodybuilder types. In spite of his fatigue, he exuded an aura of strength. He was also standing straighter now, as if he were aware of her inspection and maybe wanted to make a good impression.
 

Stop
. This kept getting weirder. She turned away and locked eyes with Alex. He stood beside his mother, watching her and JC intently.

He looked seriously pissed.
 

What was she doing, checking out JC when the guy who was technically sorta her boyfriend was in the same room?
 

But Alex
wasn’t
her boyfriend. They were just friends, hanging out together. Of course, JC didn’t know that. And from the expression on Alex’s face, he’d conveniently forgotten it too.

JC touched her arm, reclaiming her attention. The resulting tingle was entirely inappropriate.
 

“Thanks for your help tonight. One session of standing there taking it from Mrs. Ramirez was enough to last a lifetime. Whatever you said at the end helped settle her down.”
 

He was just doing his job. His fingers caressing her arm didn’t exactly fit with that explanation, but she wasn’t sure he was even aware he was doing it.
She
was so aware of
him
she was ready to explode. In the middle of the crowd, she could isolate his unique blend of soap, citrusy aftershave, and testosterone-laden male. The combination was driving her nuts. “That was nice.”
 

JC raised an eyebrow and smiled, turning her statement into something else.

“What you did.”

His smile deepened.

“For Mrs. Ramirez.” Heat climbed her cheeks. “Letting her vent.”

He just watched her, his damned dimples distracting her.

Words kept tumbling from her mouth. “Sometimes guys don’t understand. All women really want them to do is listen while we get it out of our systems.”
 

JC leaned closer. She could’ve sworn he was smelling her hair. And liked what he smelled, because he was definitely crowding her personal space more than the surrounding people required.
 

“We don’t want you to do anything,” she continued, “fix it, explain it, or anything else.”
Shut up!
She was babbling like an idiot.
 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” His voice was low and intimate.

He studied her face. She could almost see the debate going on behind his eyes.
 

Intensely regretting her verbal oversharing, she braced for his next maneuver.
 

“I didn’t try to fix anything, but I did talk to a friend at the Seattle PD,” he said.

She frowned, looking for the connection. “Why? Were you hoping I’d done something terrible in Seattle? That the only reason I came back was because I was running away?”

Dimples flashed again. “The possibility occurred to me.”

She folded her arms, dislodging his hand, and tapped a foot. “Why’d you really call them?”

“I found something disturbing.”

She froze. Disturbing combined with the Seattle police department meant only one thing to her—Officer Frank Phalen. Even
thinking
the man’s name left a bad taste in her mouth.

“I found your protective order.”

“Bully for you.” She felt violated all over again. First by Frank, then by the Seattle PD’s refusal to take the harassment seriously, and now by JC’s knowing about the whole damn mess. And she couldn’t even complain about his reading the order because it was a public record and anybody who wanted to could look it up.
 

JC scanned the group behind her. “I thought you might want to know. Phalen was reprimanded by the department after you complained.”

 
“Reprimanded.” Phalen had flat-out stalked her. “He got his hand slapped for harassing me, camping in front of my house, following me—”
 

Threatening me
.

“In the official report, he claims you two were dating and you didn’t handle the breakup well.”
 

Holly’s mouth dropped open. Shock and outrage left her sputtering. And
naturally
JC believed the rumors, what the other cops told him. “
I
didn’t handle rejection well? We went out a couple of times and he wanted to buy wedding rings. I didn’t.”

His gaze swung back and pinned her in place. His brown eyes carried a message she couldn’t interpret.
 

“You think just because our relationship ended badly, I made this stuff up?” The words ground out between clenched teeth. She couldn’t remember the last time she was this angry. “Screw you, JC.”

She pivoted on her heel, but JC grabbed her arm. “Wait a minute.” He tugged her back. “I never said I didn’t believe you. I’m telling you because he pulled the same shit with another woman. She raised a bigger stink than you did. They fired him.”
 

She jerked her arm free and gave JC her best squinty-eyed stare. “Frank Phalen reinforced every bad thing I ever heard about the ‘thin blue line.’ ”

“There are all kinds of officers. Some are like him. Ones who don’t understand that behavior isn’t acceptable.”

“You’re avoiding the issue.”
 

His tone went hard and flat. “I don’t like the idea of some guy, especially an officer, harassing women.”

She caught her breath at his intensity. Forget the theoretical. His expression said he didn’t want anyone harassing
her
, Holly Price, specifically. She swallowed. “Sounds like we finally agree on something.”
 

He glared down at her. “I want to know if Phalen contacts you.”

She didn’t need JC telling her how to run her life. Trying to control her life had been one of Frank’s horrible habits. “I doubt that will be necessary.”

God, she hoped it wasn’t necessary.

“He’s going to blame you for getting fired. That kind of guy won’t admit it was his own screw-up that caused his problems.”

Like JC or her father admitted theirs? Yeah. Got that.

“I’ve handled Frank all by myself this long.” Even if it did include moving.
 

Temporarily moving.

And speaking of moving, a graceful retreat sounded like a brilliant next move.
 

Clearly, she wasn’t getting any information from Marcy’s relatives tonight. Time to find Laurie and leave. She scanned the room, but didn’t see her friend’s blue hair, which should’ve stood out in the sea of brunettes.
 

“Gotta go,” she told JC and dodged between two people before he could say another word.
 

So much for graceful.
 

She angled across the room. She felt Alex’s glare and JC’s gaze following her. At the doorway, she risked a glance over her shoulder. JC wasn’t just watching her, he was measuring her in that blatantly male way that made her aware of every inch of her on-fire skin. She felt as though she were wearing her sexiest piece of barely there lingerie instead of the most conservative black suit she owned. For a second, she was glad she’d worn high heels that made her legs look a mile long and lifted her butt into something that from the right angle might be considered a booty.
 

The next instant she wondered what she was doing—strutting for a guy she’d sworn never to think about again, much less help, talk to, flirt with, or whatever it was she was doing. A man she needed to deal with strictly on a professional basis.
 

She turned around and found Alex’s glare had intensified to a laser of death. What was
his
problem? He was pissed because she wouldn’t go over there and subject herself to his mother’s snubs? Newsflash—the floor crossed two ways. Alejandro could grow a pair and come to her.
 

“Screw this,” she muttered. She didn’t ask to get caught between two competitive Neanderthals.
 

She moved into the foyer and looked around for Laurie. Raised voices caught her attention—along with most of the people in the room. Heads turned.

There was a commotion at the front door.
 

She caught the words and the voice.
 

That damn reporter.

Chapter Sixteen

“The police are questioning the owners of Stevens Ventures.” A young man holding a mini-recorder stood just inside the door of the funeral home. He’d cornered a middle-aged woman, but he spoke loudly, as if he wanted to be overheard. “Sources inside the sheriff’s department say they have questions about Tim Stevens’ possible involvement in Ms. Ramirez’s death.”

Holly gasped. As far as she knew, the only thing Tim had done was offer Marcy a job.
 

And maybe have an affair.

“Were you concerned about Ms. Ramirez working there? Tim Stevens’ business partner, Alex Montoya, found the body. Is there a connection?”
 

Holly whirled around and looked for Alex. He’d go ballistic if he heard this crap. She didn’t see him or his mother. Hopefully they hadn’t noticed the commotion, or were too far away to hear the guy’s questions.
 

She turned back to the reporter. Should she say something? Defend Tim and Alex?

A group of men who looked a lot like Marcy swarmed out of the inner room. They filled the entrance hall with noise, the clatter of feet, voices speaking English and Spanish.
 

“
¡Salga!
Leave! This is a private function.” An older man led the pack.

The reporter stood his ground and directed his next question to the crowd. “What about Ms. Ramirez’s husband? Why isn’t he here? Have the police been able to locate him?”

Holly felt like a spectator at a tennis match. Her head swiveled between the group of men and the reporter. The scene was ugly, but if somebody actually answered the guy, she’d get some answers too.

“Have the police given any indication Ms. Ramirez was involved in activities that contributed to her death?” The reporter moved closer to the older man.
 

“Get out!” One of the younger men stepped forward, not touching the reporter, but definitely in his face. “Now.”

An angry barrier of men hid the reporter from sight. Holly turned and scanned the crowd for JC. He seemed to be good at calming yelling matches. Her gaze raked across the room. Given his height, he should’ve stood out in the crowd. Apparently, he was still in the inner room, probably trying to question another family member.
 

The woman in front of her spun around. Feverish red spots lit her cheeks and her teeth clenched around the words which seemed ready to burst from her mouth.
 

“Yessica?” Holly stared in astonishment at the furious woman.
 

“That reporter doesn’t want to interview anyone for the truth. He’s telling more lies.”

“He’s just making noise, trying to get a reaction.” Based on Yessica’s expression, the reporter had succeeded.

“It isn’t right. Why is he dragging my sister’s name through the mud?”

“He can’t print stuff like that.” At least she didn’t think he could print blatant speculation. Although he’d had no problem printing she was a Person of Interest. Which might be factual, but it sure seemed like slander—or was it libel?

“Was Ms. Ramirez afraid of her husband?” The reporter hadn’t given up.
 

The men pushed the reporter outside.
 

“Dammit!” Yessica sputtered. “Why is he doing this?”

Holly’s earlier words to JC rang through her head.
Women just need someone to listen while they get it out of their systems
.

Tears overflowed Yessica’s eyes—eyes that had the same tilted corners and warm brown color as Marcy’s. Holly fumbled in her purse, found a battered package of tissues, stepped closer, and held Yessica while she cried.