Bad to the Bone (7 page)

Taking care to stay out of sight of anyone inside the office, Jessica worked her way to the edge of the double doors. She stopped beside the one which was still closed and listened to the ominous silence around them. Without knowing who or what waited for them behind the door, even the simple act of breathing seemed a dangerous risk to take.

Suddenly an eerie sense of déjà vu swamped Jessica. She remembered another time, another door. Every detail came rushing back with frightening clarity. She became a scared young girl again, hiding behind a door and clutching a small piece of glass. Hoping it would be enough.

Closing her eyes for the briefest second, she cleared her mind, shoving the past back where it belonged. Shoving it away before the fear could grab hold of her and pull her further into the nightmare. When her pulse settled, she handed Iris the small zippered lock kit. Then, with her foot, she gave the partially opened door a nudge, half expecting someone to lunge out of the room or send a bullet through the opening. No one did, and the door swung wide.

When the handle banged against the wall, a masculine voice startled them both. “Oh for God’s sake! Stop skulking around out there and come in.”

Stunned, Jessica realized it was Lincoln’s voice and eased her head past the door. He stood beside the desk, gingerly holding the phone receiver with two fingers and looking expectantly in her direction. At the moment he resembled a butler more than a security
guard, but she knew better than to trust impressions. Using the door to shield her actions, Jessica slipped the derringer into the pocket of her shorts and then stepped into the office. Any relief she felt was instantly erased by his next command.

“Don’t touch anything. We may have been burglarized.”

She froze and tried to calculate how much time it would take the CIA to get someone to Texas. Iris had stumbled on to Phil’s contact by pushing the redial on his bedroom phone. So Jessica had to figure they were coming, the only question was when. They’d want that book, too, and anything else that might establish a connection between the “company” and Phil.

He’d never actually said which branch of the government gave the orders, but it had been fairly obvious from the targets. The CIA wouldn’t want a trail of bread crumbs leading to their doorstep. They’d used Phil because they wanted to maintain deniability; a link to him would defeat the whole purpose of freelance operatives.

But … was Phil
still
working for them? A lot could change in two years. If Phil had refused to work with them, some very bad people would be very cranky. Cranky enough to take Phil out and wipe the slate clean? She didn’t know.

Where are you, Phil? And what have you done
?

Not quit, she decided. He wouldn’t quit. He liked the cloak-and-dagger too much. Jessica scrutinized the office around her. The vague disarray could just as easily have been caused by a rapid search for the address book as by Phil’s disorganized work habits.

Afraid she already knew the answer, she asked, “What was taken?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t exactly checked,” Lincoln
snapped. “I wouldn’t know anyway since I’ve never been in here, but the door was unlocked. Phil’s the only one with a key.” He gave her a speculative glance. “Regardless of Iris’s devotion to you, Miss Daniels, if you hadn’t been with the detective, you’d be the first person on my short list of suspects.”

Jessica returned his gaze without flinching. The man was right to be distrustful of her. She’d come here with every intention of tossing Phil’s office. Somebody just beat her to it.

“But I
was
with the detective,” she reminded him. “And the housekeeper’s gone. That leaves only you or Iris.”

“That’s why I’m calling the police,” he said, and bent toward the phone.

“No!” Both Iris and Jessica shouted the word with such conviction that Lincoln actually backed up a step.

“Excuse me?”

Before Jessica could explain, Iris shot forward and took the phone out of Lincoln’s hand. “The police are already mad at me, Linc, because I called them about my dad.”

The man sighed heavily and rolled his head in disgust. “Iris, honey, tell me you weren’t the one who called them with that cock-and-bull story about your dad being in danger!”

“I wish I hadn’t, Linc. Really. I’m sorry, but I did. So don’t you see? We absolutely
cannot
call them again unless we’re sure. Or they’ll just say it was me making something up and crying wolf again. And next time the detective said I had to go to jail.”

“She’s right,” Jessica agreed. She had her own reasons for wanting to keep the police out of it for a while longer. Especially Sully Kincaid. He was far too perceptive. He didn’t need any more fuel for his hunch.

“The man was not a happy camper,” she warned. “Before we do anything, we need to be certain of what happened. I assume Phil hired you because you were good. So, tell me, Lincoln, how could someone get in here without your knowing it?”

“If you’d asked me an hour ago, I would have told you it was impossible.” He was as serious as a man could be. “None of the window alarms tripped. The sensors on the outside wall didn’t trip. There’s no sign of entry. Except an unlocked door.”

“So maybe no one got in. Maybe Phil didn’t pull the door all the way shut. Maybe it didn’t latch and just finally popped open tonight. Have you tried it lately? Do you know for sure that it was locked?”

She could tell he wanted to believe the tidy explanation she’d wrapped up and tied with ribbon for him. He almost did, and then she lost him. The man was too much of a professional to accept absolution that easily.

Lincoln shook his head. “Phil’s not careless.”

“He was probably in a hurry.” Safe guess, Jessica thought. Ever since she’d known Phil, he’d been in a hurry. “Take a look at the facts. You don’t know if anything’s missing. You don’t know how someone got in. You can’t even swear the door was locked. How’s that going to sound to Detective Kincaid?”

“Linc, you should have heard him,” Iris added. “He was really mad at me.”

Jessica kept the smile of satisfaction off her face as Lincoln rubbed his eyes. The man was caving. Who wouldn’t when big purple eyes begged so prettily? Iris offered to help him look around, check to see if anything was missing. Jessica helped too.

Five minutes later, she had done as thorough a job of searching the office as she could with eyewitnesses
in the room. As far as she could tell, beyond income tax records, there was nothing of importance to steal. She didn’t even know why Phil bothered to lock the room.
Unless there was a hidden safe they hadn’t been able to find yet
. Sighing, she sat down in the chair, about to pronounce the office unmolested. Then her eyes fell on the desk calendar.

It was one of those designs with loose sheets to flip over each day. She stared at it, something nagging her. And then she noticed, this one was missing pages. About a week’s worth. The last week’s worth.

Sully was way out of his jurisdiction, and he knew it. He could have made a phone call this morning and had his buddies in Houston check out the rental agency. But he hadn’t. Nor did he have any real business swinging by Munro Security on his way back to Jericho. But since he was already in Houston … and only a few miles away … Why not? In for a penny, in for a pound.

Never one to lie to himself, he admitted his impulsive trip to Houston was more personal reconnaissance than real investigation. Sure, vague cop alarms were going off in his head after last night, but they were drowned out by the clamoring of his libido. That hadn’t happened for a long time.

Not like this. Not with a woman he hardly knew. He wanted more than hot sex, although he didn’t deny a strong physical pull or the need to touch Jessica Daniels. Sure, he wanted to hear her voice in the dark, all sleepy and satisfied, but he also wanted to know about that streak of white in her hair. He wanted to get inside her head. He wanted to know why her eyes gave
the impression she’d been to hell and back. Maybe more than once.

Jessica Daniels intrigued him, and that worried him. He was drawn to her by something he couldn’t name, something hot and dark beneath the surface. They were mirror images—two predators on neutral territory, circling, testing, and retreating. When they got too close, heat pulsed between them. Jessica chose to ignore it, but Sully figured he’d better pay attention.

Nothing good ever came from ignoring what was slapping you in the face. He’d learned that lesson at his mother’s knee while she iced her swollen jaw and kissed the lingering handprint on his cheek. All the while she told him that his father wasn’t really a drunk. His father didn’t
want
to beat them, she explained so softly, so sincerely. His father loved them. That’s why he had to be so firm with them. He wanted only the best for them.

His mother had ignored the bad things, replacing them with fantasies and rationalizations. Ignorance wasn’t bliss; it was hell. His mother had died in hell, and if divine justice existed, the violent bastard who killed her was rotting there as well.

Sully never forgot the sins of the father. He couldn’t afford to; the same blood ran in his veins, the same capacity for violence. He suspected that just might be the reason his angel wept.

Another point Jessica and I have in common
, Sully decided instinctively. With eyes like that surely her angel was weeping too. The only question was why? What did Jessica regret? What secrets did she hide?

He pondered the possibilities as he turned onto Westheimer. The Munro complex, two high-rise office buildings connected by a walkway, was a couple of short blocks up on the left. All he intended to do was
ask Munro’s secretary a few routine follow-up questions to yesterday’s telephone interview. And maybe casually mention Jessica’s name to gauge her response.

But what he’d planned to do was forgotten an instant later. Bright sunlight flashed and winked as it bounced off a familiar metallic-blue sedan carrying two passengers. Sully’s fingers tensed around the wheel, and he increased speed as the sedan—only a block away—whipped into the Munro company parking lot. Cursing, he slowed his car for a red light and watched the sedan disappear through the gate.

What on earth were Jessica and Iris doing here?

By the time he’d made it through the stoplight and security gate, they had five minutes on him. He’d wasted enough time at the gate, he didn’t want to waste time with the receptionist or alert Jessica he was on the way up. So as he approached the reception desk, he feigned shortness of breath.

“Sullivan Kincaid. Looks like I’m late again. Did Iris already go up?” He tapped the counter with his hand and zipped past toward the elevators without waiting for an answer. “Can you believe it? Lord, I told Phil I’d be here for this! Which office are they using?”

The receptionist, obviously the softhearted type, bought his harried act and sheepish grin without a second thought and waved him on. “Go! Go! I’ll sign you in.” They went to Mr. Munro’s office. Tenth floor. She did look a little worried. “If you hurry, you can probably catch them before they notice you’re late!”

Yeah, he wanted to catch them all right—red-handed. They were up to something. Why else would Jessica drag Iris up to Houston with Phil gone? This was a helluva long way to come for free pencils. The elevator barely opened before he was out. The tenth
floor was obviously executive country judging from the softly lit sculptures lining the corridors.

The place was deserted at lunch. Except for Iris, who seemed to be standing guard in front of a massive mahogany door at the end of a short hallway to his left. Fortunately she was tying her shoe at the moment. When she finally looked up and saw him, her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open.

“Don’t,” he advised softly with a shake of his head. “Don’t say, shout, or sing a word.” He halted beside the empty secretarial alcove, lowering his voice even more. “Is that your dad’s office? She in there?”

Both questions were answered with quick nods. The anguished look on Iris’s face and the way she kept cutting her eyes toward the door confirmed his hunch that this wasn’t a casual tour of the office.

“Did your dad call and ask you to meet him? To pick up something?” When Iris shook her head, he said, “Didn’t think so. You stay. I’m gonna have a private chat with your aunt Jessica.”

As quietly as possible he eased the door open and then closed it behind him. Jessica’s back was to him as she bent over the calendar on Munro’s desk. The view of her rump wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t here to inventory her assets.

“Iris,” she whispered as she ripped out a page. “I told you to give me ten minutes.”

“You sure that’ll be enough?”

Jessica jumped at the sound of his voice, crumpling the paper in her hand as she clenched her fist, but she didn’t scream. She didn’t utter a sound. That surprised him. Sully leaned against the door, crossed his arms, and waited for her to turn around. When she did, the woman looked as guilty as sin. And sexy as hell.

The hip-hugging denim skirt she wore was short
and sweet. Her cowboy boots had engraved toeplates, and her shirt was one of those loose, sleeveless crop tops that buttoned up the front and exposed skin every time she moved. He sure did like the way she moved. It was a shame she was so damned slippery.

“A bit jumpy are we?” he queried softly. “Why is that? It wouldn’t be because we’re hiding something from the police, would it?”

“I’m not
hiding
anything.” She lifted her chin. The view of her neck wasn’t bad either. “If you must know.…”

“Oh, I’m afraid I must.”

“I’m checking Phil’s calendar for Iris’s orthodontist appointment.”

“She doesn’t wear braces.”

“She’s getting them.”

He smiled. “Who’s the orthodontist?”

She hesitated a second too long.

“Thought so.” Sully pushed away from the door and held out his hand for the calendar page.

“Look, Sully, chill out.” She casually smoothed and folded the calendar page. “I’ll confess. You seemed so insistent about talking to Phil, and I thought I’d try to track him down by snooping through his schedule.”