Wild About The Bodyguard (15 page)

Chase had to
bite his inside cheek, the impulse was suddenly so great. Garfield
had mentioned his wife, Barb–that was his in. But Chase could
imagine the reaction if he asked about that ring. Garfield was a
nice enough guy, and he might be acting friendly enough now.
However, commonsense suggested that this private man would not take
kindly to queries regarding his wife’s jewelry collection.
Particularly when the query related to a crime.

Garfield’s
eyebrows knitted. “Have you seen anymore of her?” When Chase
blinked, the older man explained. “The lass who tore around here in
a waiter’s suit a couple of weeks back. She was after me, wasn’t
she? My man had noticed her hanging around the gates of the
property.”

Chase’s jaw
dropped. All this time and Garfield
knew
? No point trying to deny it
now. “The situation that day was quickly contained.”

“
I saw you
marching her out.”

Chase grinned.
“You’re observant.”

“
Judges are
paid to be. What did she want? She told you, didn’t
she?”

Chase
swallowed.

Oh, shit. Here
goes.

“
She wanted
information concerning your wife and a piece of jewelry. A ruby and
pearl ring surrounded by an unusual setting resembling a pair of
lips.”

He nodded.
“Yes, I know it. My wife doesn’t wear it often. Not the type of
thing that complements Chanel, necessarily.”

“
That woman
owned a similar piece. It was handed down through many generations.
Unfortunately her ring was stolen ten years ago.”

Garfield’s
face hardened. “She thinks my wife’s ring and hers are the
same?”

“
She only
knows that her ring was a family heirloom. And it’s
missing.”

Garfield’s
words were measured. “I remember the day my wife came home with it.
Not ten years ago. Perhaps eight. The gold is twenty-four carat and
the stone is exquisite. She was thrilled to have negotiated a very
decent price. No appraisal certificate attached, but, in this
instance, she didn’t mind.”

Chase was busy
calculating. Eight years, not ten. An expensive piece that was
acquired for a bargain price.

“
You wouldn’t
happen to remember the name of the establishment that sold your
wife the ring.”

“
Wouldn’t
recall if you spelled it out for me.”

Chase’s
stomach dropped. “I see.”

“
But my
wife’s memory is a steel trap.” Garfield was already drawing out
his cell. “I’ll ask her.”

When Chase
contacted her later that evening and said he wanted to collect her
after nine, Sammy wasn’t surprised. What set her aback was his
insistence that she wear something dark that covered both arms and
legs.
And
the
fact that he said he’d spoken with Garfield.

Nothing
compared with the unbelievable time she and Chase had shared on
that boat in the bay. The hours they’d spent laughing,
talking...making love...

No getting
away from it. She was falling for the guy. Not only was Chase Wild
bone-meltingly sexy, he was switched on and fun—and thoughtful—and
they just
got
each other. But when she’d explained that she was leaving for
L.A., he might have cautioned her regarding safety, but he hadn’t
exactly laid his heart on the table...begged her to stay. She was
glad that he hadn’t—and a little sad about it, too.

Tonight would
he say anymore about her plans to leave?

Chase
collected her at nine p.m. Pulling the vehicle out from the curb,
he explained.

“
When
Garfield mentioned his wife, I had to ask. She acquired it eight
years ago.”

“
So someone
else had the ring two years in between.”

“
I asked if
he remembered where she’d gotten it.”

“
And?”

“
He had no
clue.”

“
None?
”

“
But his wife
remembers everything.” Dressed all in black, like her, Chase
grinned across. “I’ll take you there.”

Sammy clasped
her hands in her lap.

After her mom
had passed away, time seemed to lose context. Somehow she’d
scrambled through and had made graduation. Six months into college,
she was managing her grief and had taken to heart her mother’s
wishes for both her girls.
Always find the
joy.

Her biggest
joy was amateur theater, helping out behind the scenes as well as
losing herself on stage. She was good with figures–she understood
them. But her true calling was putting on a show—and staying here
meant limiting any chance of success.

Laycee was
happy with her shop. Jay was pumped about law school. Ann owned a
successful business and was happily married. Sammy owed it to
herself to chase
her
dream, which meant packing up and moving on...and, if tonight
didn’t reveal any more information, putting her search for that
ring behind her.

Hell, it
wasn’t the ring she wanted back so much as her family–her mom. That
failed audition had been a wakeup call. She had to put her efforts
into what counted
now
.

Chase drove to
a part of town that a person with any street smarts wouldn’t touch
after dark. He stopped in front of a decrepit shop. In the hazy
light, Sammy couldn’t make out the signage. Down the street, a
couple of dudes were eyeballing the luxury car that didn’t
fit.

“
What was
Mrs. Garfield doing in this neighbourhood?” she asked.

“
Maybe you’ll
get the opportunity to ask her one day.” Chase shifted the car into
drive and cruised on. “It must’ve been empty for years.”

“
Which means
another dead end.” She was almost relieved.

“
We can still
have a look around.”

“
Like how? By
breaking in the front door?”

“
No. Breaking
in the
back
door.”

She saw a grin
hook his lip. He was serious.

A few moments
later, they were parked in a back lot and exiting the car. A lonely
streetlight smeared a hazy glow over the area. Edging forward,
Chase surveyed the space, particularly the building’s eaves, Sammy
guessed for security cameras or alarms.

The rear
entrance was housed within an alcove and cloaked in darkness.
Inching forward to the right of Chase, Sammy felt something sticky
and light crackle over her face. Yelping, she jumped a mile into
the air. Chase gripped her arm.

“
What are you
doing?” he whispered. “We need to be quiet.”

A violent
shudder tore through her. “
Spider
web
.”

He crouched
down to inspect the locks and then opened the bag he’d brought
along. She heard a click and then a circle of light appeared on the
door.

He handed the
flashlight over. “Keep the light on that spot.”

A few minutes
later, he’d cracked both locks. She darted a look around the
darkened lot as he turned the tarnished knob and pushed the door
open. Taking the flashlight, Chase entered first. Sammy tiptoed in,
close behind.

The
flashlight’s beam arced left, right, and then up and down the
narrow, low-ceilinged corridor. She winced at the smell as stale
air stuck in her throat.

They walked
past a couple of empty rooms. No furniture or shelves. Then the
corridor seemed to narrow; probably imagination but this place made
Sammy’s skin crawl. She was about to tug the back of Chase’s
shirt–tell him that she wanted to leave–when he turned right into a
room and the light disappeared.

She bolted in
after him.

There was a
desk, a filing cabinet and packed boxes set into piles. Chase
fished out and handed over a second flashlight before opening the
cabinet’s squeaky top drawer. Sammy moved to the desk, which was
bare other than a layer of grime. She opened each desk drawer: an
empty stationery tray, a blank notebook, more dust.

Chase wasn’t
having any more luck. As he swiped a palm beneath the files of the
second cabinet drawer, Sammy crouched down to bust open a mouldy
cardboard box.

“
What
precisely are you hoping to find?” she asked, praying there weren’t
any creepy crawlies as her fingers dipped inside.

“
Any intel
relating to the owners, suppliers, stock.”

She held up
her first find. “So, old books no good?”

Its cover was
a worn green-grey featuring a rudimentary gold-embossed sketch.
Chase crossed over. As he knelt down, Sammy carefully opened it up.
The smell of mildew wafted up, evoking a long ago memory. As a kid,
she’d once found two boxes of old books in the basement of their
building. But not this kind of book.

Shining her
light on the page, Sammy skimmed words in her head. It was a story
written by an omnipresent narrator who had enlisted a mistress to
help develop sexual positions. The accompanying black and white
drawings were explicit.

Edging
closer, Chase flipped a couple of yellowed pages.
“
She was accommodating of her master in
every sense. She relished the hours spent at the foot of his bed
and welcomed the collar he lovingly placed around her
throat
.” He grunted. “Sadomasochism is so
retro.”

She’d scooped
out another book with a circle on the cover. Sammy recognized the
title. The copyright said first published in France. “This was a
bestseller in its day.”

Chase had
pulled a pair of cufflinks out of the box and rattled them under
her nose. “Used for play, not crime.”

She looked
around the dingy room. “So this was a sex shop. Nothing against
anyone wanting to provide a service, but I can’t see my ring
fitting in here.”

“
The ring was
once owned by a courtesan. A jewel circled by gold
lips.”

Sure. The lips
were suggestive, but who knew the ring’s original owner?

She moved to a
different box. More books. Some old comics. A few early last
century photos. And…

She pulled out
a long string of pearls. “You think these are real?”

“
Couldn’t
say. Also can’t say where they’ve been.”

Sammy dropped
them back into the box where they settled with an exotic
rattle.

“
This all too
kinky for you?” he asked.

“
I’ve read
stories.”

He helped her
to her feet, and then theatrically pulled her hard against him.
“Are you turned on by the idea of being a man’s sexual
plaything?”

“
Works both
ways. How about a man belonging to a woman?”

With a teasing
growl, he rubbed his lips in a circle over hers. “Depends on the
woman.”

When his palm
ironed down to the small of her back and urged her pelvis in
against him, she hummed out a smile at the feel of the bulge
pressing against her belly. She cupped his jaw, dragged her fingers
up to his temples and then back through his hair as his mouth
opened over hers.

When their
lips finally drew apart, she’d almost forgotten where they were.
She ran a fingertip over the cleft in his scratchy chin. “What do
you propose we do?”

“
I suppose
heavy petting is out of the question.”

Here with the
dust and spiders? She shivered. “Not happening.”

He glanced
around. “Let’s go through the boxes properly. I’ll finish with the
filing cabinet first.”

She was
examining a dangerous looking metal device when Chase made an
encouraging sound. Slapping the grit from her hands, she joined
him. He was pushing to his feet after retrieving papers from the
bottom filing cabinet drawer.

“
A personal
note,” he said, angling the torchlight closer to the paper.
“
I’m finished. Dump the rest. See you
tonight. Annalise xo
”

Sammy grabbed
the note at the same time her heartbeat began to thump. She was
smiling, almost laughing out loud, it was so ridiculous.

“
This is a
crazy coincidence,” she murmured, checking out the handwriting,
particularly the name. “My sister’s name is Annalise. Everyone
calls her Ann.” Then the connection faded up, fully formed, and she
groaned.
Oh God.
“Everyone except Rick.”

It was so
freaking simple, Chase wanted to kick himself.

Right off the
bat, he’d suspected the sister and then had dismissed the notion
for a more likely suspect. This was pretty damning evidence, but
still the question remained. Who was the brain behind the
operation? Who had been the mastermind and who had been convinced
to stage a theft and run with the money?

Beside him,
Sammy stood frozen. Chase couldn’t imagine the sense of betrayal
she must be feeling now.