The Evasion (5 page)

Ellie glanced at Gabe. Without even trying, the man looked like a badass. Excellent method acting from him as well. Only he wasn’t acting.

“Well,” Ellie said, “I don’t usually do this, but that item is scheduled to go on sale next week. I want you to have it. How about seventy-five?”

Seventy-five. For a bag that cost less than five bucks to make. Criminal. Literally.

Jo shoved the crappy bag at Ellie. “In that case, I’ll take it. Thank you so much.”

Ready to close her sale, Ellie swung to the register and Jo waggled her eyebrows at Gabe. Mission accomplished. She now had the evidence she needed to get the sheriff fully on board. This would be easier than she’d thought.

—:—

“Happy now?” Gabe said when they reached the sidewalk.

“Ecstatic, sergeant. Now we have proof that someone is moving counterfeits through this area. Counterfeits with my client’s name on them. With your informant’s lead and now this, it has to be Martinson. I want this guy. Bad.”

“I love it when you talk dirty.”

Jo poked him in the chest. “Save it, buddy. Let’s find the sheriff.”

Gabe climbed the church—uh, the sheriff’s office—steps while staring at Jo’s exceptional ass. Why not? It was right there and her slacks fit in a certain way that wasn’t tight, but showed off the rounded fullness. If they hadn’t been in public, he’d smack his palm right over that gorgeous work of art.

At the top of the steps, Jo turned the handle on the huge arched door. If that thing fell off its hinges, it’d crush someone. “Ooh, it’s open.”

Oh, goodie
. Gabe crowded behind her to push the door open and caught the lingering citrus scent of her soap. He inhaled, thought about all the distractions she created and—sure enough—the little brain came alive, tightening his jeans in the crotch area.

Focus here, dumbass
.

Before too long, one of them would have to flinch and give up the task force. And it would most likely be him. He was okay with that. Jo wasn’t. She wanted each of them to be able to keep their task force positions. By her way of thinking, they should be able to bend their task force jobs to fit into their personal lives. Nice thought, but unrealistic. What she didn’t understand was that working together messed with his mind, and a guy who did what he did for a living needed all brain cells in working order.

The task force work gave him a rush, no doubt. Work wise, it had been a solid move because it put him in direct contact with the mayor of New York, a man who could fast-track Gabe’s career. Right now though, he wasn’t sure if he liked the assignment because it was good for his career or because it let him hang around Jo.

Later
. He set his hand flat on the door and pushed. “Let’s see what’s what.”

A bell jangled as the door swung wide.

“Afternoon, folks.” A barrel-chested, balding guy—mid-fifties easy—came around a desk tucked into an alcove on the right side.

Career cops, wherever they came from, had a certain way of moving. A self-assuredness that became a defining factor easily recognized by other cops.

Gabe glanced around at the cavernous space. Church pews had been replaced with desks and metal cabinets, but the marble floors and ceiling fresco of angels and a robed woman remained. The idea of processing a murderer or a junkie under a ceiling depicting what looked like a woman’s ascent into heaven was just plain bizarre.

Jo strode toward the man and extended her hand. “Hello. I’m Jo Pomeroy. Are you Sheriff Connelly?”

Like most red-blooded men, the sheriff took in Jo’s long legs and the silk blouse she’d buttoned back to a professional level, as opposed to the screw-me-stupid level Gabe enjoyed. This might be fun to watch. If this sheriff didn’t cut the crap, Jo would hit him with a remark sharp enough to slice his balls off.

One at a time.

On cue, she circled her finger around her face. “Right here, Sheriff. Come on now, up you go.”

Atta, girl.

The man’s head snapped from the middle button on her shirt to her face.

“Much better,” she said.

Gabe puffed out his cheeks because, damn, it was hard not to laugh.

“Sorry, ma’am.” The sheriff grasped her hand but released it quickly. No lingering after she’d made that first nick into his balls. “Welcome.”

Gabe held his hand out. “Gabe Townsend.”

The sheriff shook his hand. Not too hard, but enough to exert some power. “Sergeant, right? Emergency Services?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s gotta be somethin’”

“It’s not dull.”

The sheriff waved them to his desk in the freaky alcove. Damned sheriff’s office in a church. The whole thing gave Gabe the willies. He needed white walls, cracked ceilings, linoleum floors and interview rooms that held secrets most people couldn’t comprehend.

“Have a seat.”

“You alone here?” Gabe asked.

“I am. Deputy is out on patrol. Receptionist leaves at five. We have a regional S.W.A.T. team here. Men from different towns in the area. Don’t have much call for them, but they train hard.”

Gabe didn’t see a need to respond. His only job here was to make sure the sheriff had whatever he needed and not get into a pissing match over who the better officer was. Really, he just wanted to capture Martinson and go home.

Without preamble, Jo flung the counterfeit Barelli on the desk. It landed with a
whap
and the sheriff jumped.

And here we go…

The sheriff glanced down at the bag, then back to her. “Well, that sure is a nice bag.”

Prepare to lose a nut, pal.

“Actually, no, it’s not,” she said. “You may recall from our earlier conversation that I’m an intellectual property attorney. One of my clients is Barelli Incorporated. Are you familiar with them?”

“Heard the name.”

“Yes. They’re a huge fashion company.” She tapped the knockoff bag. “This is a counterfeit Barelli. Whoever made this bag is responsible for copyright infringement. We need to stop them, Sheriff.”

Connelly pulled a notepad from his desk drawer. “Right. You mentioned you’re looking for a fella.”

Gabe sat forward. “Donald Martinson. He’s wanted in New York.”

“And you think he’s here?”

“We do. An informant indicated Mr. Martinson has family here and is hiding.”

Connelly rolled his bottom lip. “Haven’t seen anyone new.” He made a note. “Let me check around.”

As expected, this good ol’ boy wasn’t in a rush. He’d be losing his second nut any time now.

“Thank you, Sheriff. We’ll also need to question the owner of the boutique across the square. She’s breaking the law by selling fake goods.”

“Oh, hold on here. That’s Ellie. She’s a good girl. She probably doesn’t even know.”

Gabe leaned forward. “That could be true, sir. Either way, she’s got to shut it down. Ms. Pomeroy is an expert on identifying counterfeits. She’d be happy to relieve Ellie of any illegal items.”

The sheriff gave him a look. And it wasn’t friendly. Nope, this was more get-the-fuck-outta-my-town. “I’ll talk to her. See where she bought it. I’m sure she’s been duped.”

“If that’s the case,” Jo said, “it’s unfortunate. She could be charged with a crime.”

“Now hold on here. This is my town.”

Jo blew that off. “Unless, of course, she’s willing to cooperate and help us catch the smuggler. Then she’d be a hero.”

Gabe grinned.
My girl
. The sheriff didn’t look too good though. He’d gone straight-out green.

“Give me until morning to get into this.
I’ll
talk to Ellie.”

Gabe studied the sheriff, who obviously didn’t want Jo stomping through his playground. Maybe he’d help the guy out and convince her to let the man do his job.

“Of course, sir,” she said. “It’s getting late anyway. Sergeant Townsend and I have an appointment at the Port Authority in the morning.”

They did? Gabe shot her a look. So much for her laying low and letting the locals handle this.

“Hey, now. Let’s not get too crazy here, little lady.”

Little lady
. Gabe sighed.

The sheriff stood—a clear announcement that this meeting was over. “You let me handle it. I’ll let you know if we need help. You folks at the hotel?”

Jo pulled her card and a pen from her briefcase. “We are. I’ll give you my number so you can reach this
little lady
anytime.”

Second nut, gone. She wrote her number on the back of her card and handed it over.

Gabe stood, smacked his hands together. “We’re all set here then.”

“We are indeed,” Jo said. “Thank you, Sheriff. I’m sure we’ll get this wrapped up quickly and you’ll help us put a smuggler behind bars. I have no doubt.”

She charged down the church—sheriff’s office—steps and hooked a right. “Come with me.”
Jo was already twenty yards in front of him and picking up speed. “We need to get over there before he calls Miss Ellie.”

Gabe hustled to catch up. “You’re gonna piss this guy off. What’s this about an appointment at the Port?”

She stopped walking and faced him. “I lied about that. And I don’t care if I piss him off. Staring at my boobs is one thing. Little lady?
That
, I won’t tolerate. The sooner we get on this, the sooner we find Martinson and get home.”

For once, in the interest of expediency, he wouldn’t argue with her about wanting to be involved. Investigating on their own would land both of them in hot water. Something neither of them could risk after the lambasting they’d received six weeks ago when their investigation ended with Jo stuck in a burning building and Gabe threatening a witness. Not a stellar day that one.

Gabe held his hand up. “I’m all for busting this guy and getting the hell out, but we need to be careful, do it quietly.”

“Excellent. We need a plan.”

“Lucky for you, I’m a quick thinker. Follow my lead.”

Two minutes later they re-entered Ellie’s store. The doorbells jangled and she wandered from the back room.

“Hello again. Back so soon?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He glanced down at Jo, brushed his fingers over the back of her neck, stroked the warm skin with his thumb and made goo-goo eyes at her.

Ellie let out a little sigh. “Y’all are so sweet.”

Figuring he’d laid it on thick enough, Gabe gave up on goo-gooing. “I adore this woman.” Not a lie. “She is, in fact, the love of my life.” Also, perhaps not a lie. “And I think she needs another Barelli bag. In a different color.”

He glanced around, knowing from his earlier study of the premises, there weren’t any other bags in the front of the store.

“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s the only color I have.”

“Oh, shoot,” Jo said.

Gabe gave her neck a squeeze. “Don’t worry. Something tells me Ellie will get you another.” He turned back to Ellie, offered up one of the smiles that, more times than not, helped him score with a woman. “How about it? Will you make my girl happy?”

Ellie bit her lip. “Well—”

“I’ll make it worth your while. As you can see, my girl is well dressed. She enjoys shopping. A lot. Just ask my credit card company.”

She seemed to consider this a moment, staring at him as his meaning drifted, drifted, drifted and—bull’s-eye—her eyes flew open. “Let me make a call.”

Cha-ching. You do that, sweetheart.

In a rush, Ellie spun and headed for the cash register toward the back of the store. The two of them followed and watched her flick through her Rolodex, one of those old circular ones with cards busting out all over. Jeez, they still made cards for that thing? After finding the card, she picked up the cordless and dialed.

Jo stared up at Gabe and blew him a kiss.
Heh
. She seemed to be enjoying all of this PDA, considering they didn’t get to do it in New York. Not if they didn’t want the old ladies on Gabe’s team talking shit all day. And one thing Jo didn’t deserve was a bunch of guys making crude comments, ribbing Gabe day and night because he was banging the sexy attorney. Plus, he’d wind up killing someone and that would be bad for both their careers.

Ellie clicked off the call. “There’s no answer at my supplier. I got the recording. How about I try them in the morning? Maybe y’all can stop back?”

Gabe nodded, but he wasn’t leaving yet. Not until he got a look at that number on the phone. “That’s too bad.” He gave Jo another squeeze. “Ellie has been so gracious, why don’t you look for something else while we’re here.”

Jo made her eyes dumb-blonde big. “Really?”

That was him. The sugar daddy. “You bet. I rushed you earlier. Maybe you’ll find something special.” He dragged his hand across the upper part of her chest, where a modest amount of skin peeked out. His body fired and her eyes went berserk in that what-the-fuck way she was so good at. “Ellie,” he said, “got anything naughty my girl will like?”

Town like this didn’t have a lingerie store. If they did, the church ladies would probably boycott it just to prove they didn’t have impure thoughts. Of course, this would all occur after their husbands dressed in leather chaps and smacked a whip against the headboard. Yeah, town like this, they kept the smut in the back room.