Take Me Tonight (17 page)

That he was Achilles Cardinale’s nephew, who had spent way too many years on the streets of New York City as a wiseguy. And then, she’d find out about Bella.

His heart took a dive down to his shoes.
That
would be the worst case scenario.

She clicked again. “You’re really making me uncomfortable, staring like that.”

“Forget I’m here.”

“Like you can be ignored.”

He chuckled. “Then put your computer away and talk to me.”

“No.” She shifted in her seat and read something. Twice. Three times. Then she tilted the screen down to see over it. “I appreciate your quest to be my boyfriend and all, but am I ever going to get a night free? Maybe to go out to a bar with my friends or…or go see a movie?”

He’d watch her from across the bar, from the last row of the theater. “Sure, if you really want to.”

“I might.” She tapped a few keys and he heard the little sound of a bookmark being set. “Sometime. Now, who should we google first?”

His phone beeped the melody of “Danny Boy.” “Cavalry’s here,” he said. “I’ll go show them where to park.” Dan probably had a car and driver, but he wanted to give them a final briefing. Johnny stood and pushed back his chair. “Sage?”

She looked up, obviously surprised he’d used her given name.

“Don’t leave this apartment and don’t let anyone in. Do you understand?”

She saluted. “Yes, sir.”

“I’m serious. And don’t let her leave.” He pointed to the bedroom.

“Okay.”

He started toward the door, grabbing his jacket from the chair.

“Johnny?”

He turned to find her staring at him.

“You’d actually make a helluva good boyfriend.”

“You think?” He grinned. “Even if I don’t work?”

She tilted her head to the side. “I shouldn’t have made that crack.”

“No sweat, sugar.”

She still looked at him as he took one more step toward the door, no smile now. Just all that intensity directed at him. The way it had been the night before. And the way it would be tonight.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I like you,” she admitted. “That’s all.”

His return smile was tight, like the band that had just squeezed his chest. “That’s enough.” Too much, actually. He blew her a kiss. “More on that later, babe.”

He purposely didn’t call her Sage. He purposely didn’t let his gut flip over at her heartfelt admission. He purposely didn’t even let himself think about the fact that he liked her, too. A lot.

Because that took worst case scenario to a whole new level.

As soon as Johnny left, Sage returned to the book-marked page at www.takemetonite.com. They’d invited her back for another kidnapping, this one on the house. Did Johnny know that? Maybe he hadn’t quit. Maybe he got fired and they were just making it up to his customers.

If Vivian was telling the truth, there was a connection between the kidnapping and Keisha’s death. Something she still couldn’t quite put her finger on kept her from sharing this information with Johnny. Her e-mail beeped with a new message from [email protected].

Glenda was e-mailing her? She opened it quickly.

Would like to expedite your story with some behind-the-scenes access to the girls. Can you come to tomorrow night’s game? Arrive early, I’ll take you into the locker room. Two tickets at Will Call. (Sorry, no men allowed in the locker room.)

Sage didn’t reply right away. She clicked back to the search engine and typed in “LeTroy Burgess,” and got back a long list of press coverage and fan sites. Lots of biographical material about his stellar high-school basketball career, his draft into the NBA, his various trades, including the one to the start-up New England Blizzard. Scrolling through, she opened and closed a dozen websites until she found pictures of LeTroy and Desirée Burgess, and their two-year-old daughter, Ava Blue. According to the media, LeTroy had a happy life, a good marriage, a rock-solid career, and a mountain of money.

Why would he have an affair with Keisha? Why would
she
?

Sage had to talk to LeTroy. She returned to Glenda’s e-mail and hit Reply, then took a moment to consider how to ask for what she wanted.

Thank you, Glenda. I’ll be there. Would love to chat with some of the dancers before the game. My editor has asked to add some player quotes. Think I could get a postinterview game? LeTroy Burgess would sell the most magazines—any chance? Thanks, Sage

The response was almost instantaneous:

No interviews with players during play-offs. Will look into something at a later date. G

She was still considering detours around this roadblock when the front door opened and Johnny peeked in.

“Brace yourself, baby doll. My backup’s here.” He stepped in, followed by two men who pretty much sucked out whatever air Johnny had left in the room.

“Hi.” Green eyes danced, a lock of burnished-gold hair fell, and well over six feet of muscle and charm beamed at her. “I’m Dan Gallagher.”

Behind him, another man, broader and even more imposing, stepped in. He shook his head like a lion, throwing off waves of long, tawny hair, revealing a tiny gold hoop glinting in his ear. “G’day, Sage.” The Australian accent was as thick as his mane, and just as attractive. “Adrien Fletcher.”

She closed the laptop and stood. These were gym rats? Maybe she should quit running and start lifting.

“Hi,” she greeted them. “Nice of you guys to come over.”

“I can’t stay,” Dan said. “I just wanted to meet you.”

“Oh, well, hello.” She glanced at Johnny, who rolled his eyes.

“He’s nosy like that,” Johnny said, shrugging out of his leather jacket. “Fletch is going to hang with Vivian. He’ll take her home when she’s ready.”

Dan warmed her with another heartbreaking smile that revealed the tiniest overlap of his front teeth. “So you’re Sage Valentine.”

“In the flesh.”

“He’s given to hyperbole, our Johnny boy.” Dan dropped onto the sofa, crossed his long legs, and draped his arms over the back. “But in this case he didn’t exaggerate. You are stunning.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t fight a grin. “Thank you.”

Johnny winked at her. “Nothing this man says is to be taken seriously,” he warned. “He’s a gifted liar.”

Dan just laughed, giving her a sense that the two knew each other very well. Didn’t Johnny say he’d just moved to Boston? This friendship had subtle overtones of longevity. The other man had moved to the bay window and pushed the curtain aside for a slow, thorough scan of Chestnut and Charles streets.

“Nice place,” he said. “Bet it costs the earth to live here.”

“It’s not cheap,” she conceded. “Where are you from?”

“Canberra.” He looked over his shoulder, a dimpled smile turning him from gruff to gorgeous. “Ever been down?”

She shook her head. “I’d love to go, though. How long have you lived here?”

“Not that long,” he said, turning away from the window, but the light silhouetted his substantial breadth. She normally didn’t like facial hair, but on him, the triangular tuft under his lip was perfect. As was the earring, and the windblown hair.

“Is the bar from
Cheers
near here?” he asked, his dimples making another appeareance. “I loved that show.”

“It’s right down on Beacon, just a few blocks from here.”

“It’s a tourist trap, Fletch,” Dan said.

A million reporter’s questions screamed in Sage’s head, starting with how long had they known Johnny. But he suddenly entered the living room and held up a very small gun.

“Whatever happened to pom-poms for cheerleaders?”

“Where did you find that?” Sage asked.

“In Vivian’s handbag.”

Her jaw dropped. “You went through her bag?”

“And found a gun. Don’t question my process, honey.” He turned it in his hand. “One bullet’s missing.”

“Maybe her bodyguard didn’t take a buyout,” Dan said. “Maybe he took a bullet.”

Sage gasped in a little breath, and the Australian man stepped forward and took the gun out of Johnny’s hand, smelled the tip and examined it. “Fairly recently, I’d say.” He spun the weapon like it was a toy. “Cute li’l thing, isn’t it?”

“Not very effective, though,” Johnny said. “I doubt it could do much damage.”

“It damaged the hell out of my garage-door lock and saved my freaking life.” Vivian bounded into the room, wearing only a T-shirt that barely skimmed her endless thighs. Her long hair was tossled, her golden eyes blazing as she grabbed for her gun. “Give it.”

Fletch whipped it right out of her reach. “Sorry, pet. You need a license to carry this bit o’ lead.”

“I’ve got one, and who the hell are you—Crocodile Dundee?”

Dan coughed a laugh.

“I’m Fletch.” He slipped the gun into the pocket of his trousers and extended a hand toward Vivian. “Evidently I won the lotto, eh?”

She glanced sideways at Sage. “You know these guys?”

“I do,” Johnny said, stepping forward. “Adrien Fletcher, meet Vivian Masters. And that,” he indicated the sofa with a nod of his head, “is Dan Gallagher. You can trust these men with your life.”

“I need two?”

Dan stood. “Regretfully, I just stopped by to meet Johnny’s new friends. Believe me, you are in excellent hands with Dundee here.” He gave her a sweet smile that almost covered the quick trip his eyes took over her.

Vivian put her hands on her hips and swiped them all with a tough look. “Listen, I’m not lying about anything. Keep the gun if you want; it just makes me nervous. But don’t second-guess what’s going on here. I need protection.” She checked out Fletch’s broad torso. “You’ll do. And let’s go soon, because I’ve already missed practice today and I have to dance on national TV tomorrow. Got it?”

Fletch turned stone serious. “I’ll die before you do, sheila. Now, you want to dress or go like that?”

Vivian stared him down, then pivoted like the dancer she was and headed back down the hall. “Follow me,” she called. “I want you to know what you’re getting into, so you better see something.”

He notched up a brow as if he weren’t at all used to being told what to do, but then followed her. To see the poster, Sage assumed.

A low digital tone sounded, prompting Dan to check the readout on his cell phone.

“I’m real sorry I can’t stick around for the show, but my ride’s here.” He walked over to Sage, put one hand on her shoulder, and tipped her chin toward him, looking at her like…well, like Johnny had, a few minutes earlier. Far too closely. “You be careful, Sage Valentine.” Then he kissed her forehead.

As he headed to the door, Johnny followed. “I’ll be right back, Sage.”

When the door shut, Sage just stared at it. Why had that man kissed her? They’d never met before, yet he almost seemed to know her. She touched her forehead, unable to shake the feeling that Dan Gallagher was trying to tell her something.

Curious, she went to the window. Across the street was a dark sedan with black windows, parked but running. In a moment Johnny and Dan approached it, and Dan opened the passenger door and climbed in. Johnny leaned on the side of the car, talking into the window, laughing once, then looking back at her apartment.

Sage ducked behind the curtain, not wanting to get caught. But she couldn’t resist another peek. That was no ordinary sedan. That was a Town Car, chauffeur driven.

What the hell kind of gym did these rats crawl out of?

Chapter
Seventeen

T
he place was like a meat market. Thighs, hips, buttocks, waists, and oh so many sets of perfect, round, medically manufactured breasts. The smell of hair spray, self-tanning cream, and deodorant hung in the dressing-room air, as thick as the undercurrent of tension and excitement. High female voices rose, punctuated by laughter and the occasional shriek of frustration or coo of delight.

“I’m sorry.” Sage leaned forward to hear what the soft-spoken Pamela had just said. “Did you say three times a week?”

Pam nodded. And smiled. She did that a lot, revealing teeth like a row of Chiclets chewing gum. “Every week. No matter what. It’s a full-time…” The rest was garbled by the sudden outburst of two hair dryers.

“Uh, do you think we could step outside, Pam?” Sage asked.

Pam glanced to her left, where Glenda Hewitt appeared to be reading a music list but was clearly taking in every word of the conversation. Glenda immediately held out a hand. “Stay here, Pam. No one is allowed to leave the dressing area.”

With a little shrug, Pam moved closer to Sage. “I’m sorry, I can’t yell. I’m saving my voice for the game.”

“I understand,” Sage assured her, wishing she had a place to set down the “complimentary energy drink” Glenda had given her the minute she arrived. But there were no more pertinent questions. Who cared how many times these girls danced a week or how many lessons they took or what commercials they were on? Pam wasn’t going to answer the questions Sage really wanted to ask; certainly not with Hawkeye two feet away.

“Have you seen Ashley McCafferty?” Sage asked. “I’d really like to talk to her.”

That got Glenda’s attention. “She’s gone to see her family in Indiana,” Glenda said. “She left on Thursday morning. I had a car pick her up and take her to the airport.”

Pickup at 8:45
. Sage could still see the words on Ashley’s calendar.

“Why would she leave before the basketball season is over?” Sage asked Glenda.

“She’d been moved to alternate status,” Glenda explained. “She wasn’t dancing up to par.”

Pamela’s expression of sympathy confirmed that. “It’s tough,” she said. “Very competitive.”

Sage glanced over Pamela’s shoulder and caught Vivian’s eyes in a long vanity mirror trimmed with classic dressing-room makeup lights. Sage sent a silent “please, help” to Vivian, who tilted her head to her right, indicating a young woman with long dark hair who sat next to her. Sage recognized Claudia Larkin immediately. Vivian made a tiny gesture as though she were typing.

Claudia must have done the takemetonite.com kidnapping. Could Sage get to her without Glenda Hewitt following and controlling the interview?

Another hair dryer kicked in and a woman approached Glenda. Seizing the opportunity, Sage said to Pamela, “Could you excuse me a quick sec?”

Without waiting for a response, she dodged a couple of half-dressed women and slipped across the dressing room. She didn’t speak to Vivian, but crouched down next to Claudia, setting her plastic cup on the vanity. Claudia gave Sage a very off-balance look, her left eye fluffy with fake lashes, her right eye unadorned.

“Claudia, I’m Sage Valentine.”

Claudia nodded, and glanced over her shoulder to where Glenda was still in conversation with another dancer. “Sorry, I’m not on the list. I can’t talk to the media.”

“And why is that, do you think?” Sage asked.

“Could be a million reasons. Because I didn’t shake my ass hard enough against the Miami Heat? Because I am not one of Glenda’s chosen few? Because I wore the wrong eye shadow for the last game? Who the hell knows why some of us get selected for extra benes and some don’t.”

“Maybe it’s because you participated in a takemetonite.com kidnapping. You know, no one on my list has done it. I’d like to talk to you about it. Off the record, if you prefer.”

Her eyes shuddered and the fake lash lifted at the corner. Claudia turned to the mirror, swearing softly.

Sage touched Claudia’s wrist. “What happened when you were kidnapped?”

In the mirror, Claudia checked Glenda’s position again. God, they were all so terrified of the woman. What power did she really have over them? “Nothing.”

“Nothing? You didn’t have a thrill? A scare? A rescue? A good time?”

Claudia ripped the lash off in frustration and tossed it onto the vanity before she grabbed a tiny tube of glue. “I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember anything?”

She rolled her eyes. “There might have been some drugs involved, you know? This, I’m sure, is why I’m not on the short list for a
Boston Living
interview.” She squeezed a line of glue onto the lash and gave Sage a fake smile. “Ask Briana. She said it was like the Second Coming. And Third. Now, if you don’t go away, I’ll be the only one out there with invisible eyes.”

“What
do
you remember?” Sage prodded. “The car? The man who kidnapped you?”

She dropped her hands to the table. “I know why you’re doing this. You want to know what happened to Keisha. I know she was your roommate and she was scheduled the night she died. Right?”

“Right.” Sage squeezed her hand. “Please help me.”

“Then you need to talk to one person.” Claudia took one last look over her shoulder and whispered, “Shit, here she comes.”

“Who, Claudia?” Sage begged. “Who?”

“Her lover,” she said in a low whisper. Then she started blinking wildly, fluttering the lash in front of her eye. “Sorry, Sage,” she said loudly. “I can’t talk to you now. Glenda, are any of the makeup artists free to help me with these lashes? The new ones don’t work nearly as well as what we had before.”

“They’re busy now, Claudia. Some of us have to do without professional assistance.” Blue eyes glared at Sage. “Bring your drink, dear; I have your next interview lined up.”

If it wasn’t LeTroy Burgess, she didn’t want it. How could she get to him? Here, tonight? Once he disappeared behind some gated house, she’d never get to him. She glanced at Vivian, who carefully applied lip liner and didn’t acknowledge Sage.

“Glenda,” Sage said, standing up. “I absolutely have to talk to one of the players after the game tonight. If you can’t help me, I’m going to wait outside their locker room and use my press pass to get an interview.” She wouldn’t like that, Sage hoped. She might want control, which could give Sage access.

Glenda frowned with concern. “I didn’t know it was that important, dear. Who do you want to talk to?”

“LeTroy.”

“Of course you do.” Glenda’s lips rose in a gentle smile. “He’s one of my favorites and so delightful with the media. I can arrange that for you.”

She could?

“With one caveat. No photography. He has very strict limits in his contract.”

“Fine. Great. When and where?”

“Find me as soon as the final buzzer sounds and you will have a few minutes alone with him after the game. Will that be enough?”

“Perfect. We’ll find you, where, right here?”

“Not
we
, dear.” She underscored that with a finger pointed directly at Sage. “You. Alone. Don’t bring your starstruck boyfriend.”

“He’s not—”

“Alone.” Glenda masked the sharp tone with a fake smile, taking her cup and handing it to her. “Now you better let these girls concentrate on doing what they do best: being dazzling and breaking hearts and firing up our fans.”

In the mirror, over Glenda’s shoulder, she saw Vivian roll her eyes.

Glenda grasped Sage’s arm and maneuvered her toward the door. “I’ll see you after the game.” They passed Pamela, who still wore her smile, and sipped water.

“Did you take two of them?” Glenda asked her.

Pamela nodded and sipped again.

“Good girl, you’ll feel better in no time.” Glenda continued whisking Sage toward the door, past bodies and booties. “Susannah!” she called to one of the girls shimmying into hot pants. “Good luck tonight, dear! My money’s on you!”

The young woman beamed back. “I’m excited and nervous, Glenda. Thank you!”

Could Sage have misjudged the tough-talking choreographer? Here, in her element, with her girls, she seemed…almost soft. Caring. And cooperative.

“Remember now, Sage,” Glenda said as she opened the door to a long hallway leading to the arena. “Meet me outside, at that door.” She pointed to another exit, on the opposite side of the hallway where she and Johnny had waited the other night. That must be the secret exit for the players who don’t want to be mobbed by fans. “I’ll be sure you talk to LeTroy, if you’re alone.”

Johnny wouldn’t like it, but that’s the way it was going to be. Hell, he had plenty of secrets of his own. She wasn’t going to feel the least bit guilty about ditching him after the game. She sensed that she was getting closer to an answer, and she’d do whatever it took. This time, it might take deception.

“It’s good to be undercover again.”

Dan laughed softly, propping his sneakered feet on the back of the empty arena chair in front of him. “Spoken like a true spook.”

“No, seriously.” Lucy Sharpe matched his position, placing her bright pink Skechers next to his high-end size 12 Nikes. She’d never owned a pair of pink shoes, which made the cover—New England basketball fans stuck in the nosebleed section—all the more satisfying. Kind of like the time she had to pretend to be a geisha to steal some military secrets from a Japanese diplomat. “I miss the field, sometimes.”

“Not enough to join us,” he said dryly. “Which is too bad, since we’d make an awesome team, Juice.”

She smiled. He’d dubbed her Juicy Miss Lucy when he first came to work for her and, unfortunately, it stuck. Few other Bullet Catchers had the nerve to call her that or any of their other pet names, like Ms. Machiavelli, to her face. But Dan had nerve. Steely nerves, lightning reflexes, and a sense of humor that could make even the hardest heart laugh. No matter how much pain it had endured.

Lucy trained her eyes on the two men who stood a few feet from courtside. They talked like casual friends, but she could see them casing the arena. Johnny said something that made Fletch chuckle, but Lucy noticed that the bulky Aussie never stopped checking out the crowd.

“Fletch wasn’t happy about leaving Australia for training,” Lucy mused. “But I think he likes this unexpected action in the field.”

“Who wouldn’t? Wait until you see this unexpected action.” At Lucy’s sideways glance, he added, “Not that it matters, but she is ridiculously hot.”

“She’s not technically an assignment,” Lucy corrected. “File this one under favors.”

Dan leaned much closer than any other employee would dare get to her. “File this one under Juicy’s pet projects.”

She brushed back a strand of her blond, shoulder-length wig. “She’s family, Dan.”

“Vivian Masters? She’s not.”

Lucy met those appealing eyes that always seemed to see through her. “Sage Valentine is.”

“How long you gonna keep Johnny boy here?” he asked. “I could use him on the detail in Mexico City next week. Then Alex heads back to Cuba for a while, and I thought Johnny could pick up the work he and Jazz are doing in Miami. Chase is—”

“The last time I checked, I ran this company.” She made no effort to soften her tone or the look she gave him. Blond wig, tinted shades, and pink sneakers aside, she was still the sole proprietor of the Bullet Catchers. Dan was the specialist she trusted most, but not her partner. She would never have a partner, in work or in life. Not again.

He gave her a half nod, tempered by a glint in his grass-green eyes. “I’m just asking, ma’am. You run the company, you make the assignments, you call the shots.”

“And you rein me in when I let family ties threaten to bind the organization.”

He put a familiar, warm hand over hers. “I suspect the financial viability of the Bullet Catchers is not in any danger of hitting red for a long, long time.”

“You would be quite correct.” The organization was wildly profitable.

“So, you’re entitled to use the resources to help anyone you want.”

She was. Part of her resented the fact that anyone, especially one of her employees, felt it necessary to tell her that. The other part, the soft part that had laughed for the first time in a long while the day she met Dan Gallagher, wanted to lay her head on his shoulder and thank him for all his support. But that was her problem. If he ever had any inkling that she had moments of weakness like that, she might lose the best security specialist she had.

“There she is,” she said, lowering her feet to the floor, her full attention shifting to the silky blond hair and confident gait of Lydia’s only child. She entered the arena at the far end, a long way from Johnny and Fletch. “God, she’s pretty.” She barely realized that she’d whispered the words, or that Dan had threaded his fingers through hers.

“She is,” he agreed. “Spunky and smart and…”

“And what?”

“Quite taken with her new boyfriend.”

Lucy processed that. “Well, Johnny’s good, Dan. Initiating a romance made perfect sense so that he could stick around and keep her out of trouble.” If it went beyond the casual kiss, she’d chalk that up to Johnny maintaining his cover. It was too important to protect Sage while she dug around for answers. They might be estranged for all the wrong reasons, but Lucy loved that girl like she was her own child.

Sage had slowed her step, smiled and waved at someone in the stands.

“Johnny’s pissed at you for not telling him who she is, Lucy,” Dan said softly.

It wasn’t the first time she’d incurred the wrath of a Bullet Catcher. “It’ll pass. He understands family obligations.”

Dan snorted. “Better than anyone. He’s also just as taken with her.”

“He’s under cover,” she volleyed back. “He knows the job. No one gets involved with the principal.”

“Tell that to Alex and Max.”

But the women they had protected and fallen in love with were not her niece. “Different situations.”

“How’s that?”

“
Who’s
that, is what I want to know.” She zeroed in on the older man leaving his seat to greet Sage with a warm hug.

Dan had his cell phone out in under a second, almost as fast as he drew a gun. He hit one button and she saw Johnny flip his own phone instantly.