Dangerous Kisses (Siren Publishing Classic) (14 page)

“Hey, wait up.”

Brandon spun around, darts of fury shooting from his eyes. “Fucking bitch. I knew she would pull this shit, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to stop her.”

“Marie?” Megan asked calmly, the pieces of the puzzle already falling into place.

“Yes, Marie. She can go to hell for all I care. She calls this morning saying she wants to hold a meeting to talk about the business when all she really wanted to do was break the news that she has already made her decision.” He thrust an angry hand toward the door to Paul’s office. “I can’t talk her out of it, and I can’t save the damn place by myself. She’s giving Walter and Joan exactly what they want. Fuck her!”

“Watch it, Mr. Easley,” Cusack warned, his voice stern.

“I am watching it, Sergeant. I’m watching everything my best friend worked his life to build be destroyed by his bitch of a wife.” He threw his hands in the air. “I’m done with it. I’m done with this place. There isn’t anything I can do anyway.” He looked at Cusack. “If you need me for anything, you can find me at home.”

Cusack let him go. Megan watched Brandon as he walked away, feeling an echo of his anger and pain in her own chest. She knew why Cusack hadn’t tried to stop him. Brandon had never really been a suspect in the first place. Drake had let the man out of the building mere minutes before the attack happened, locking the door behind him. There was no way Brandon could have reentered the building, killed Paul, and gotten out again without being seen, even if he hadn’t forgotten his own keys to the facility.

Paul’s office door opened, and Walter Samuels and Joan Baxter stepped into the hall, neither looking surprised to see the small crowd gathered a few feet from the door.

“Is Brandon all right?” Joan asked, her attention finding Megan first.

Megan had only seen the petite, dark-haired woman in her midforties a handful of times, but apparently Joan remembered her. “He’s pretty angry.”
Pissed is more like it.
She had never seen Brandon that way.

Joan sighed, her cornflower-blue eyes full of sadness. “I knew he would be. We just can’t seem to make him understand this is the best decision for everyone involved.”

“He’ll come around,” Walter predicted in a thick, southern drawl. The man was all country from the brim of his Stetson hat to the toe of his snakeskin boots. “He’s letting his emotions run the show, but he’ll see it’s for the best when he comes around.”

“Where’s Marie?” Drake asked.

Walter angled his head to the office door. “She’s still in there, said something about wrapping up some loose ends before she left.”

Drake met Megan’s gaze. “I’m going to talk to her.”

“If you don’t need anything from us, Sergeant, Joan and I are headed out.”

“No,” Cusack answered. “I have everything I need from the two of you for now. You’re free to go.”

* * * *

Drake walked passed Megan and Cusack and peeked his head into the open office doorway. Marie sat behind Paul’s desk, her face in her hands.

“Marie?” He made her name a question as he stepped into the office. Her head came up, a startled sound escaping her lips, and she raked a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand.

“What is it, Drake?”

He studied her, the tracks of mascara streaking her cheeks, the grief and hopelessness in her eyes, and couldn’t help but think she looked less like the bitch Brandon flew off about her being than anyone he had ever seen.

More like the grieving widow who just made the hardest decision of her life.

“I have something I want to talk to you about, an idea I have for the aquarium, a proposition that might appeal to you.” He stopped at the chair in front of the desk. “Mind if I sit down?”

“There isn’t an aquarium anymore,” she told him weakly. “I’m sure you got that with the way Brandon just stormed out of here.”

Drake nodded and took the seat. “I got that you informed the partners of your decision to sell and that Joan and Walter are behind you one hundred percent.”

“Then you know there isn’t any idea or proposition that is going to make a difference now. Please leave, Drake. I’m not in the mood for conversation, especially not with the man suspected of killing my husband.”

“I didn’t kill your husband.” Drake kept his tone level and held her gaze steadily.

“Honestly, I don’t believe you did either. I know my nephew didn’t. So who does that leave? Debbie?” Marie laughed scornfully. “That naive little twit couldn’t stab a beetle, much less a man nearly twice as tall and three times her weight.”

“Are you agreeing to sell because it’s what you want or because you don’t feel you have a choice?” Drake got straight to the point. He didn’t intend to leave this office until he got the answers he was looking for.

“I know my husband talked to you. He liked you. He thought very highly of you. Some even said he was grooming you. I, on the other hand, am not that open, and I’m not going to sit here and divulge either the business or my personal finances to you.”

“I didn’t ask how much money was in either bank account. I asked if you truly want to sell this place.”

“No, I don’t want to sell it.” She all but screamed the words, her eyes filling with tears. “This place was everything to Paul. He cared about it more than he ever loved me.” She pushed her chair back, got to her feet, and walked to the glass overlooking the lobby. “Walter and Joan think I’m giving in for spite,” she said more quietly, almost as if she were talking to herself. “Joan especially. Of course, if I was doing it because of her, I wouldn’t be selling. I would be holding onto the place even if it drove me into the ground.”

She whirled from the glass, anger sparking in her reddened eyes. “Paul had an affair with her. Did you know that?” She waved a dismissive hand before Drake could answer. “Of course you know. Everyone knows.” She pointed a finger at him. “But I’ll tell you what everyone doesn’t know.” She turned the finger around, poking it into her own chest. “I drove him to it. I pushed him into her arms. That’s something I’m going to have to live with for the rest of my life,” she whispered as she turned her back on him once more.

Drake didn’t know how to respond to that, so he stayed silent.
Talk about not being open.
She had talked to him, told him more in the last two minutes than she had ever told him in all the years he had known her.

He waited a beat, giving her a minute to calm down before he spoke again. “If you had a backer, not another partner, but someone to put in the money to implement the improvements Paul wanted to make to this place, would you be able to hold on to it?”

She shook her head, but didn’t turn from the glass. “No one has that kind of money, and even those that do aren’t willing to invest anymore.”

“I do,” Drake said simply. “And I am.”

She turned slowly, her eyes wide and full of hope. “How?”

“I have money in the bank, Marie. A great deal of it,” he added, purposely being vague. “Are you ready to talk now?”

Marie walked to the office door, closed it, and returned to the desk. “Maybe I am.”

* * * *

Megan left Drake at the aquarium. If Marie agreed to his ideas and consented to change her mind about the sell, they could be shut in the office the rest of the day working out the details. She expected Drake would have to do some smooth talking. Marie wasn’t a woman who cowed down easily once her mind was made up on any point. Unless Marie truly didn’t want to sell. Then Drake’s proposition would be the out the woman was looking for. Hell, even if Marie was dead set on selling, Drake could be very persuasive.

Megan slowed her car to a stop for a traffic light and felt her lips tingle in remembrance of Drake’s kisses. The pulse in her wrists jumped at the excitement of the way he had shackled them in his large, strong hands.

Yes, he can be very persuasive indeed.

She pushed the memories from her mind and gazed down the Biloxi strip while she waited for the light to change from red to green. Leaving Drake behind had been a good idea. She needed a few hours to herself, a few hours without thoughts about the case. To get that, she needed a distraction.

Her gaze fell on the Grand Casino.
Bad idea.
She heard the warning in her mind, heard it spoken in Drake’s low baritone the way he had said it after she dared him to make a move on her that night in her apartment. She smiled. That hadn’t turned out to be such a bad idea. Maybe this wouldn’t either.

She flipped on her blinker and eased into the empty turning lane. The traffic light didn’t give her a nanosecond to reconsider her decision. The green turning arrow illuminated, and she pulled into the casino parking lot, heading straight for the valet.

She recognized the attendant from the days when she had been a regular at the casino. The curly-haired blond man by the name of Jason took her keys, flashed her a brilliant smile, and wished her luck as he took her place behind the wheel of her car.

A cool breeze greeted her as she stepped inside the casino. The familiar sounds of coins jingling and bells ringing offered her a weird sort of comfort even as excitement flittered through her bloodstream. She hadn’t come here with hopes of hitting it big, though walking out with a little extra in her pocket instead of less would be nice.

She headed straight for the center video poker bar, spotted the bartender behind it, and grinned. “How’s life going, Ricky?” She slid onto a stool at one of the quarter video poker machines and propped her elbows on the edge of the bar.

“Better now that you’re here.” He wiped off the top of her machine, then folded the bar towel and tossed it aside. “I was beginning to think you had deserted me.”

“Just putting my money to better use these days.” She pulled a twenty from her handbag and slid it across the bar. “Two roles of quarters, please, and that’s all I get.”

He nodded and took the twenty. “Still going for sex on the beach?”

Flashbacks of her and Drake beneath the pier on the beach sent slivers of heated longing and erotic thrill down her spine.
More than you know.
“Good memory. Yes, please.”

She scanned the casino as he made her drink, noted the new flashy red, white, and black slick carpet patterned with royal flush card hands, dice, and roulette tables. The walls had been painted a deep red and several rows of new slot machines had been added since her last visit.

Ricky returned with her drink, setting it on a square napkin by her machine along with two tightly wrapped rolls of quarters. “I heard about Paul Colton on the TV. Didn’t you use to work for him, or am I thinking of someone else?”

So much for a distraction.
“No, that was me. Paul was a dear friend of mine.”

Ricky’s expression turned consoling. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” Megan reached for a roll of quarters, smacked it smartly on the edge of the bar to break the seal, and fed several into the machine.

“Paul used to come in here now and then. He usually had another gentleman with him. I don’t remember the other guy’s name, but he was in here that night.”

Megan glanced up from the hand of cards the machine had dealt her on the screen. “Friday night?”

Ricky nodded. “That’s the night the attack happened, right? Yeah, it was the same night. I remember thinking about that when I saw it on the news the next morning.”

“What did the other guy look like?”

“Country dude, cowboy hat and all. Tall, dark hair, spoke with a heavy southern drawl.”

“Walter Samuels.” She said the name more to herself than Ricky, her mind reeling. Cusack had been the one to question Walter, to check out his alibi for the night of Paul’s murder. Megan hadn’t asked for the specific details. She only knew Cusack said Walter’s alibi was airtight.

Ricky pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Sounds right. Paul introduced him to me before.”

Her game of video poker forgotten, Megan studied Ricky. “How long was Walter here?”

The bartender shrugged. “Several hours, I guess. He didn’t stay here at the bar. He bounced around, playing this machine and that. Picked himself up a cute little blonde, too. At least, it looked like he picked her up. Hell, she could’ve been with him the whole time, for all I know. Couples tend to go their own ways when they walk into this place. If you ask me, she was too young for him.” He shrugged again. “To each his own, I suppose.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Megan said absently. Ricky moved to another customer across the circular bar and her gaze fell to the machine. She selected two cards to keep and pushed the button to exchange the others, but her mind wasn’t focused on the game.

Is Walter Samuels married?
She could’ve sworn he was, though her memory wasn’t clear. She thought of the handful of times she had seen the man at the aquarium, of the Christmas party she had attended there last year.

Yes, he is married.
She remembered him being at that party with a petite redhead, not a blond. Could Ricky’s memory be that far off on the woman’s hair color? Megan remembered Walter’s wife had been younger than Walter, though not my much. A few years at most. Then again, Ricky’s idea of a too wide age gap between a man and a woman could be different from hers.