Sole Witness (15 page)

Lori took another sip of her margarita before
pushing the still-full glass a few inches away from her. Better not drink it.
Best to think clearly.

She shut her eyes and let the noise envelop her.
College kids shouting and flirting. Blaring music from a distant car stereo.
Cars, honking from the log-jammed boulevard. The salty ocean, its waves barely
discernable over the cacophony of sound. Glasses clinking.

Nothing amiss. She was at a tiki bar, for Pete’s
sake.

Was she really safe here? Was she really safe
anywhere? Should she trust Davis again? Her heart said yes. But then again, her
heart didn’t know much. It had gotten her nothing but heartache when it came to
Davis Hamilton.

“Are you there, Lori? Please tell me you’re
somewhere safe. Somewhere public. Stay there and let me come to you. I won’t
put it in my report. I swear. I just want to keep you safe.”

Lori opened her eyes.

“All right. I’m at Tiki Nation on Gulf. It’s very public—there’s
about a million kids here and I have a good view of the road. I’ll look for
your car.”

Davis breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I’ll
swing by the station and pick up my partner, and then I’ll be right there.
Forty-five minutes, okay? With traffic, an hour, tops.”

“Okay.” Lori snapped her phone closed and sat it
next to her untouched margarita.

“Something wrong with it, honey?” asked the
bartender. “I can make another.”

“No, it’s fine. I just decided I wasn’t thirsty
after all. How much is it? I’ll settle up.”

“Six fifty.”

Lori reached in her purse and started to withdraw a
twenty-dollar bill before deciding that she’d better hold on to her cash.

Instead, she pulled out her Isla Concha debit card
and handed it to the bartender.

*          *          *

Amber’s red-lacquered nails clicked against the
keyboard as she punched up Lori Summer’s account for the fortieth time since
she’d been back from her “dentist appointment”. A litany of four-letter curse
words marched a marquee through her mind. She refreshed the screen one more
time.

Gotcha.

No need for a sticky note this time—Amber knew
precisely where to find Tiki Nation. West side of Gulf Boulevard, barely a
two-cigarette drive from here. She slammed her rolling chair into her desk,
slung her purse over one shoulder, and stalked toward the exit.

“Hey, Amber. Where you going?” called out one of the
revolting sorority sisters. “You haven’t even been back half an hour. Something
wrong with your tooth?”

“Something like that,” Amber replied with a brittle
smile.

She strode out the door, her heels striking the
steamy concrete and her keys jingling in her hand.

With a growl, she ducked into her Camry and pulled
out of the bank parking lot.

“Please let me get there in time,” she muttered
under her breath. “Don’t let her have left yet.”

Tiki Nation was a beachside dive, stretching the
equivalent of a city block or so down the narrow strip of sand. Except for the
covered tiki bar, the whole place was wide open—nowhere to hide. Even the bar
was just a C-shaped curve of counter flanked with a few rickety barstools.

Amber sped across town.

One hand extricated her Glock from her purse while
the other gripped the wheel.

If little Miss Thang was anywhere near Tiki Nation,
Amber’d be able to see her from the street, no problem. Matter of fact, if she
was stupid enough to be standing around in plain view, Amber’d probably be able
to take her out from the convenience and safety of her car, without having to
traipse across the sand in four inch stilettos.

Brilliant.

Lori Summers, bane of Amber’s existence. Soon to be
ex-bane. It was practically a holy execution. Amber Tompkins, huntress, bringer
of death. Lori Summers, supermodel, super dead. God rest her slutty soul.

Amber laughed out loud as she pulled onto Gulf
Boulevard. Her Camry sliced from lane to lane, fishtailing around curves in her
eagerness to silence her quarry forever, her gun and purse sliding around the
seat next to her.

Tiki Nation loomed ahead. Amber cut into the
right-hand lane, downshifted, and lowered the passenger-side automatic window.

Just ahead, a car pulled into the Tiki Nation lot.
Damn.

Amber didn’t need binoculars to recognize the car as
belonging to Hot Cop and Preggo Pig. She fished around on the passenger seat
for her gun and grinned when her fingers closed around the cool metal.

If the detectives were here, that meant the model
from hell was here, and this was Amber’s last chance to silence her.

Amber pointed the gun out the open window, her gaze
rapidly darting between the traffic on the road and the perfect view of Tiki
Nation’s clientele.

The skinny blonde perched atop the corner barstool
looked like exactly the person Amber planned to kill.

After checking her watch for what felt like the
millionth time, Lori glanced up to see Davis step onto the curb.

He bent and spoke to his partner through her open
passenger-side window before turning back toward Lori and waving. He walked
toward the tiki bar with a tentative smile and made “come here” motions with
his hand.

Lori slipped from the stool and bent to retrieve her
bag. When she straightened, she found her view of Davis blocked by two drunken
college kids.

The boy, red-faced and leering, breathed all over
the giggling girl while groping her with clumsy hands. When he goosed her, the
girl squealed and jumped, sending drops of sloshing appletini spraying across
Lori’s otherwise clean shirt.

With a sigh, she reached out her hand to rescue the
precarious appletini from the girl’s outstretched arm when a sudden blast rang
out.

Gunfire.

The appletini exploded, sending broken glass and
sticky sweet droplets flying through the air, spraying across Lori’s face and
clothes.

The boy crashed into the screaming girl, knocking
her to the sand and covering her body with his own. With a yelp, the bartender
dove down behind the counter.

Lori froze, terrified, exposed.

She was going to die.

*          *          *

Davis ran.

Feeling like everything before
him unfolded far too fast, he watched the partiers topple, everyone hitting the
sand as fast as they could except for Lori, who stood alone and fragile, an
expression of shock and horror frozen on her face.

Horns honked, tires squealed, metal crunched.

Davis could hear cars scraping against each other in
their haste to avoid the drive-by maniac, but he didn’t turn around to watch.
He kept his gaze fixed on Lori’s, who gave a sudden little jerk and crumpled to
the sand.

No. No, no, no.

Davis sprinted across the beach as fast as he could,
leaping over trembling bodies and trying to ignore the blood rushing in his
ears.

“Lori,” he called. “Lori!”

Wonderful. Why was he always too late?

The one woman he’d sworn to protect forever lay in a
crooked heap where she’d tumbled.

“Lori,” Davis breathed, and fell to his knees by her
side. “Please tell me you’re okay. Please, Lord, don’t take her from me.”

He knelt across her body, skating his palms along
her hot, feverish skin and searching for wounds. Something had sliced one of
her cheeks and blood trickled into her hairline.

His heart hitched in his chest.

Not a bullet—maybe glass?—but if it scarred, she
might never model again. Actually, if she didn’t open her eyes soon, he might
never wear a badge again. What kind of a cop was he?

“Come on, Lori. Wake up, wake up, wake up.”

Davis bent over her frame and clutched her to him,
his ear to her mouth.

She was breathing. Good.

He checked her again for wounds and found nothing
life threatening. Could he be so lucky that she hadn’t been hit by a bullet?
Might she have just passed out from shock? Man, he hoped so.

Davis glanced toward his car. Gone.

Carver must’ve slid into the driver seat and chased
after the perp.

Wait. Carver’s belly was too big for her to slide
anywhere. She would’ve had to get out, cross to the other side, get back in,
merge into traffic… catching up with the perp’s vehicle would be nothing short
of a miracle.

A hitching breath hiccupped from Lori’s chest.

She opened her eyes and blinked at him. “Davy?”

“You’re all right,” he whispered, unsure whether he
was trying to convince her or himself. “You’re going to be all right.”

Her eyes widened and her lips quivered. “I thought
he killed you.”

“Who?”

“The killer, whoever he is. I saw you, I heard the
gun shots, everybody was screaming, my clothes smelled like apple—I thought it
was going to be like my dad all over again.”

“I didn’t think he was killed in the line of duty,”
Davis faltered, then mentally chastised himself. What kind of idiot thing to
say was that?

“He wasn’t,” Lori agreed. “But he was a cop, a good
cop, who got shot for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. A place I’d
asked him to go, just like I asked you to come here. I should never have told
you. It wasn’t safe for either of us.”

“No.”  Davis pulled her into his lap, cuddling his
arms around her trembling form. “I’ll keep you safe. I
will
. No matter
what it takes.”

Lori sagged against him. “How? The killer is
everywhere. He knows everything.”

“She.”

With a sudden intake of breath, Lori jerked upright
to stare at him. “You found the killer?”

Davis forced himself to shake his head.

“Not yet. But we will. We have a huge lead, and
several potential suspects. By this time tomorrow, she’ll be behind bars.”

Lori frowned. “What about the leak in your
department?”

“I can’t explain it, but I don’t think there is a
leak. I didn’t even tell Carter where we were going until we pulled up.”

“Then how does she keep finding me?”

Good question. “I don’t know.”

“Then how can you promise to keep me safe? You don’t
know that, either.”

Davis tightened his arms around her, hugging her
body more closely to his. “I can so. Let me think for a moment.”

He couldn’t believe anyone in his department would
leak information, not even on accident or in passing. His gut said his
department was blameless. His heart said that where Lori was concerned, he
couldn’t take any chances.

“I’ll take you to my house.”

“What?” Lori jerked in his arms. “To your house?”

“I have a little place on the Gulf, beachside, maybe
twenty miles south of here.”

Her wary expression broadcasted her doubt. “What
will the other officers say?”

“They won’t know. I won’t tell them.”

“Are you allowed to do that?”

Davis shrugged. “No.” But they wouldn’t have
believed him, even if he did tell them.

Lori twisted in his arms to face him. “Then… why?”

“I won’t tell anyone at the department you’re there.
Not a single soul. Because if there really is a leak, that’s the last place on
earth any of them would suspect. Somewhere they’d never guess. Because I
am
a cop. Cops are naturally suspicious and inherently paranoid. The last thing a
sane cop would do is take you home. It’s the safest place I can think of.”

Lori grabbed his hands and a jolt of want and lust
and fear and aching memory washed through his body. He wished he could hold her
for hours, if only for tonight.

He smoothed her flyaway hair with the palm of his
hand and wished like hell they were somewhere else. That she was in his arms
because she wanted him to kiss her, because she wanted
him
, not because
some maniac had taken potshots at her from a speeding car.

Davis pressed his lips to her forehead.

“What do you say?” he murmured, his lips tracing the
question on her skin.

Her arms suddenly convulsed around his neck and she
dipped her head against his shirt.

“Okay,” she whispered. “You can take me home.”

A strange feeling settled over him as listened to
her uneven breathing.

She’d actually said yes. Part of him had thought
she’d either laugh in his face or run away screaming.

Davis wasn’t sure if he’d made the best decision of
his life… or the biggest mistake.

*          *          *

Lori found herself agreeing to go home with Davis.

Not that the thought hadn’t occurred to her before.
If she were honest with herself, she’d daydreamed about that very thing for
months—okay, years—after they broke up before she’d finally gotten over him.