Back in Black (23 page)

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Authors: Lori Foster

BOOK: Back in Black
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Somewhat stunned by it all, Dickey said, “But you told me not to.”
“That was before a man was killed, damn it! Ask for Officer Sparks. Tell him you’re with me. Tell him . . . I don’t know. To bring an ambulance or something.” He caught Gillian before she could get any closer. “Don’t.”
Trembling, she covered her mouth with one hand. “Oh, God, Drew.
What happened?
”
“Hit and run.” A deliberate move, Drew thought. And if he were right, that meant he had bigger problems than an intrusive photographer or reporter. But he’d save that for the cops. “It’s . . . you don’t want to see him, Gillian, trust me.”
“Is he . . . ?”
“Dead?” Drew glanced back at that demolished body. Enough moonlight shone down for him to see a spreading pool of blood beneath the body. “That’d be my guess.” He could feel Gillian shaking, and it incensed him. “Hopefully the fucking camera is busted, too.”
“Oh, Drew.”
She sounded sad that he’d be so callous, but he didn’t care. He hated that anyone had upset her like this. And no way in hell would their relationship stay private after this.
“Sparks is on his way.” Dickey joined them and looked past Drew to the body. His eyes widened.
“Daaaamn.”
God help them.
“Stay here, Dickey, do you hear me? Don’t touch anything. Don’t even get close to anything.”
By small degrees, Dickey got his attention off the photographer and onto Drew. He scowled. “I’m not an idiot, Drew. I’m not going to go poking around on the body or anything.”
“Glad to hear it. Watch for the cops and come get me if I’m not back when Sparks gets here.”
“Where are you going?”
Drew gave him a look. Dickey glanced at Gillian, huddled close to Drew’s side, and he made an
Oh
expression.
“Right. I’ll wait here.” He looked at the body again and winced. “Make it quick, though. Dead people give me the willies.”
Drew put his arm around Gillian. “Come on. You need to get some clothes on. At least some jeans, okay?”
As if only then realizing how little she wore, Gillian looked down at her bare legs and feet. She turned big eyes on Drew. “I forgot.”
“I know, it’s okay.” He smoothed her inky black hair. “But I think it aged Dickey a year, seeing you like this. Probably a good thing.”
His joke went unappreciated as she followed him back to his house by rote. Drew didn’t like seeing her like this, all withdrawn and . . . lost.
And then, out of the blue, she pulled herself together.
She stood taller, stronger. Her trembles subsided. “Drew?”
“Yeah?” They walked through his house to his bedroom.
“Someone ran that man over. On purpose.”
So she’d come to the same conclusion. “You noticed that, huh?” He was hoping she’d come around the corner too late to see the actual act.
“He was killed.” She looked up at Drew, her face filled with worry.
“Murdered.”
“Sure looked that way to me.” Drew could tell by her concentrated expression that she was still piecing things together.
“He has photos of me, here with you, on that camera. That last photo . . . I’m in your shirt, Drew. In my
underwear
.” Distraught and affronted, she stared up at him. “He was . . . spying on you.
On me
.”
There’d be no point trying to sugarcoat it. Gillian wasn’t a dummy. “Yeah, afraid so.”
Hands in her hair, she strode away from him. “This is just too awful.”
Drew watched her with growing cynicism.
She hadn’t turned to him for comfort. Instead, she’d set herself apart from him.
He wouldn’t kid himself: a ton of significance came with her telling reaction. From jump, Gillian had seen him primarily as trouble, and now she felt she’d been contaminated by her association with him.
Who had the cursed photographer worked for?
“You’ll get through it.” Drew picked up her jeans and held them out to her. Though he hated it, all he could do at this point was protect her from the danger, and the fallout, as much as possible. “Get dressed, and then stay here in the house. I’ll handle Sparks.”
“Oh, no.” She inhaled deeply and seemed to collect herself before stepping into her jeans. “Forewarned is fore-armed. I need to know what’s going on so that I’ll be better able to control things.”
Unbelievable. How the hell did she think to control things now? And how could he keep her safe if she wouldn’t stay out of it? “I thought we settled this in the kitchen.”
In the process of snapping her jeans, she froze and then slowly brought her gaze up to his. Her blue eyes burned like the center of a flame.
Fascinated, Drew watched her expression tighten into cold fury. Oddly enough, it kind of turned him on. Gillian Noode was a bundle of passion.
“That’s right!” As if only then recalling it, she stated, “I’m
livid
with you.”
“Really? Why?”
Her back went ramrod straight and in a near screech, she said, “
Why?
What do you mean,
why?
”
Drew almost smiled. Of course he knew. He’d deliberately antagonized her, almost as a self-preservation mechanism to keep her from getting too close.
But now . . . now everything had changed. Now he damn well intended to keep her under his very close radar.
For her sake.
“Come on, Gillian. Be reasonable.” Drew held up a hand to preempt the attack she looked ready to launch. “Whatever has you prickly now, let’s agree that it has to wait. I need to get back outside with Dickey.”
Trembling with fury, she resisted, and then finally snapped,
“Fine.”
She slipped her pampered, painted toes into high-heel sandals and, still wearing his shirt with her jeans, headed for the door. “Let’s go.”
Yet again Drew noticed how she filled out his shirt. How could he not? With every step, she bounced and jiggled and just plain looked sexy as hell. He didn’t want Dickey seeing her like this, and he sure as hell didn’t want Sparks to see her this way again.
He blocked the bedroom door so she couldn’t leave. “A bra wouldn’t hurt anything, you know.”
“Wear one if it’ll make you feel better.” She all but pushed through him to take the lead. Following behind her, Drew made note of the defiant swish in her gait, and how that delectable ass of hers filled out her jeans. That preoccupation let her get through the front door ahead of him.
For a minute there, she’d been badly shaken by the invasion of their privacy and the residue of danger and death. Every protective instinct in him had taken over.
Now, she was back in control, and as take-charge as ever.
Damn, but he liked both sides of her: the soft, vulnerable lady and the balls-to-the-wall businesswoman.
One thing about Gillian, no matter what, she never bored him. That had to count for something, right?
As he trailed her out the door, Drew paused to grab a jacket. The evening air had chilled, so he could use that as an excuse to cover up Gillian’s impressive rack.
For one of the few times in his life, he felt possessive toward a woman. No matter the deadly conspiracy at hand, he wasn’t about to share her.
CHAPTER 12
O
FFICER Sparks took statements from each of them separately. An ambulance crew removed the body, and the camera was taken for evidence.
Drew’s tolerance wore thin. Gillian held it together, but she looked exhausted. He wanted to pamper her, damn it. He wanted to tell her that everything would be okay—but he wouldn’t lie to her. Any assurance right now would be just that—a giant lie.
“So.” Sparks looked at Dickey. “What was the purpose of your visit tonight?”
Dickey surprised Drew with his tact. “Just business, to work out details on when I’ll fight next.”
Unconvinced, Sparks asked, “Is that routine, to visit the president of the company at his house?”
Dickey shook his head. “No.” And then, a little chagrined: “Maybe that’s why you won’t see me fighting anytime soon.”
Humility always got to Drew. And it didn’t hurt that Dickey was a damn good fighter, albeit with a lot to learn. “Dickey’s working through some roadblocks to success, but he’s getting there.” Drew slapped him on the shoulder, earning a funny look from Dickey.
“As to fighters visiting me at my house, this isn’t my only home. Usually I’m in L.A., and yeah, when I’m there I don’t mix business with home life. But the atmosphere here is more relaxed. Everyone knows everyone.” He gave Sparks a direct stare. “I’ve had a few of the fighters over. No big deal.”
Dickey almost swallowed his tongue over that one.
“Hmmm.” Sparks looked down at his notes. “Any idea why a photographer was running from you?”
“Probably because he knew I planned to beat his god-damned ass if I’d caught him.”
That irked Sparks. “You threatened him?”
“Didn’t get a chance. Like I told you, soon as the camera flashed, I went after him and he ran like a fucking coward who skulks in bushes to facilitate snooping into other people’s lives.”
Sparks exhibited strained patience.
“Look, I won’t lie to you. I was going to smash the fucking camera
and
his face. But he ran like hell around the corner and into the street, and bam, just like that, the car plowed him down.”
“On purpose.”
Exasperation raised Drew’s voice to a near shout. “How many drivers are going seventy, eighty miles an hour on these streets? I didn’t even notice the car until the headlights came on, and neither did the dumb-ass photographer.”
Sparks looked at Gillian with suspicion. “And you didn’t see any of that?”
Arms wrapped around herself, she shook her head. “Not the hit, no. I was a few yards behind Drew, and by the time I rounded the block, it was . . . all over.”
“Why were you following him?”
Apologetic, she looked askance at Drew. “I was going to stop him from hitting the guy.”
“She was going to
try
to stop me,” Drew corrected. “I was plenty pissed, so it’s doubtful she’d have succeeded.”
A news van pulled up and a reporter popped out with a damned mic already in her hand. A videographer followed right behind her. Two more vehicles pulled up.
Drew sucked in a lungful of cool night air, but it didn’t alleviate his rage. “The circus begins.”
Sparks ignored them. “And you?” he asked Dickey. “What were you doing?”
He shrugged. “I just followed to see what would happen. That’s all.”
“Are we done here?” Drew asked. He wanted to get Gillian inside before the inquisition started. As it was, she’d be on some bozo’s film, and news cameras were already rolling. No need to add to that.
Gillian put a hand on Drew’s arm. “I’m not hiding from them.”
This was no time for gumption. “They’ll chew you up and spit you out.”
Sparks pinched the bridge of his nose and said with resignation, “He’s probably right.”
Gillian lifted that stubborn chin. “If I run from them, they’ll make up their own story anyway.”
“And you think that’ll be more incriminating than the truth?” Drew shook his head. “You’re the one who wants this kept private, if you’ll remember.”
“Might not matter.” Dickey nodded at something behind Drew. “The cavalry arrives.”
Puzzled by that, Drew spun around—and found a small contingent of fighters, and their significant others, approaching. They laughed and joked with each other as if they hadn’t just stepped into a media frenzy, with cameras already trained on them.
“What the hell is this?”
Dickey leaned in close to Drew. “Diffusion. If they have more to see and talk about, less is said about you and your lady.”
Few things in life ever left Drew floored, but this counted. “That’s brilliant, Dickey.”
He grinned. “Yeah, I know. I called Handleman right after I called Officer Sparks, and I told him what happened. He rounded up the rest of the guys.”
The fighters were deliberately rowdy, causing a stir—and a distraction. They provided confusion as to who had seen what by giving evasive answers and changing the subject.
It worked, to a point.
Then Millie Christian showed up. She didn’t have a cameraman or a mic but she had a damned tape recorder, and she made a beeline for . . . Gillian.
Drew tried stepping in front of her, but she couldn’t be sidetracked. Making sure the rest of the reporters would hear her, she called out, “Ms. Noode, is it true that you’re working to reinvent Drew Black’s image?”
A hush fell, quickly broken by excitement.
Someone aimed a camera at Gillian. She didn’t panic or shrink away.
Poised, professional even in Drew’s shirt and jacket, she said, “I was hired for promotional purposes, in a broad capacity, with many goals in mind.”
In that moment, Drew was so damned proud of her.
But Christian didn’t let up. Drew remembered only too well how tenacious that witch could be.
Holding out the recorder to catch every word, she asked, “Is it true that you’re sleeping with him?”
Drew saw red. But before he could even brace himself for a tirade that would have demolished the stupid woman, Gillian was there, pulling him back with no more than a look.
More attention came her way, but it still didn’t notably faze her. “My personal relationships are just that: personal.”
Had he ever really thought this WAVS meddler was timid? Right now, she looked like a damned junkyard dog eyeing a meaty bone. Why the hell had he ever felt remorse for ripping her apart online?
Ms. Christian didn’t smile, but Drew saw the glee in her eyes—and the fanaticism. Loony-ass broad.
Enjoying the spotlight, Millie Christian pressed her slant on things. “An intimate relationship would bias your task at hand, wouldn’t it? How can you coerce Mr. Black into more suitable behavior if you’re succumbing to his abuse?”

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