Deception (7 page)

“Looks like we missed all the excitement.”

Mia mumbled under her breath. “Just what I need.”

When he cut the engine, a sleek blonde slipped from the car and floated toward them. “We heard what happened, Mia. This is getting out of control.”

Linda Davis, the mayor’s wife, landed in front of them, her gaze skipping over their shoulders to take in the house.

“Hi, Linda.” Mia stuck out her hand. “I was going to call you later to get your advice about the house. Hey, Tyler…er, Mayor.”

Davis clicked his tongue. “The situation with the house is getting out of control. You know where I stand, Mia. I’d hate for Coral Cove to lose an historical landmark like Columbella House.”

Mia wrinkled her nose. “You don’t think there’s been enough bad juju associated with the house?”

“Bad juju?” Davis twisted his lips, looking like someone just shoved a lemon in his mouth.

“You know. Bad vibes. Unpleasant aura.” Mia waved her arms around.

Davis sniffed. “It’s a house—brick and mortar.”

“Tyler doesn’t have much imagination.” Linda patted her husband’s sleeve. “I’d be happy to discuss the house with you, Mia. I know a lot of great renovators in the area…if you choose to go that route. I’m also listing the house across the street, so I’ll be in the area.”

“Thanks, Linda. I’ll call you later. I’m ready to get out of here now.”

Davis made a move toward his Escalade. “I’m sure you are. I just wanted to make sure our new chief here had everything under control.”

When they drove off, Dylan rolled his eyes at Mia. “Doesn’t anyone else want the job of mayor?”

“Tyler’s been wanting to run this town since he was class president in high school.”

“He had a close relationship with the previous chief—daily meetings, fundraisers, briefings—I’ve been putting him off since I took the job and I don’t think he’s too happy about it.”

“You’re a popular chief. He’ll have to learn to live with it.” Mia slid onto the seat of the car. “Seven o’clock. I’ll be ready.”

“Drive carefully, and don’t pick up any strange dolls.”

Mia laughed, but the humor never reached her eyes. “I’m going to hole up in my motel room and see if I can get anything out of my laptop.”

She slammed her car door, revved the engine and zipped down the street. He could give her a speeding ticket for that quarter of a mile alone.

His gaze narrowed as he watched her taillights disappear around the corner. Mia had run into a stretch of bad luck or she had gotten accident-prone—or someone didn’t want her in Coral Cove.

And it wasn’t him.

* * *

M
IA WAVED TO
G
LADYS
as she passed in front of the office. Gladys flapped her gossip magazine at Mia in greeting.

Mia’s gait slowed as she approached the door of her motel room, and she studied the ground. No weird dolls. No rocks. No trip wires.

Peter had really sunk to new lows. He could’ve just asked her for a loan to prop up his studio. She would’ve obliged, but not now.

She pushed open the door and fell across the double bed. Gladys’s place was in serious need of a major upgrade. What hotel installed double beds in single rooms anymore?

She bounced up from the bed and snagged her battered laptop case from the floor by the door. She pulled out her laptop and scooted back against the headboard, plumping the pillows behind her with one hand.

Firing up the computer, she whispered, “Please, please, please.”

The laptop whirred, hiccupped and whirred some more. She focused on the spinning blue wheel until she got dizzy.

She flopped against the pillows. Served her right for not backing up everything.

The gruesome email from Kylie Grant wasn’t the only message she’d been saving. How ironic that within one week, she’d received two emails—one warning of death, the other bringing life.

She sighed and closed her eyes. Dylan mentioned a computer guy in town. She’d have to hit him up for the name tonight.

Dylan Reese to the rescue again…and again.

She didn’t believe for a minute she was the only one who was seeing an old friend with new eyes.

The drop-dead gorgeous looks and the rock-hard bod were the same—better than ever. But Dylan had a different aspect about him, softer.

She snorted and dragged a pillow over her face. There was nothing soft about Dylan.

Was he a little less perfect than before? Or was it just that she was seeing him with adult eyes now instead of the hero worship of a girl?

Whatever. Dylan Reese had moved into the realm of the attainable. Now she just needed to decide whether or not she wanted to make a play and risk disappointment and heartache.

Oh, what the hell. What was a little more heartache in this life?

A few hours later, all gussied up, or at least gussied up for a small coastal town, Mia perched on the edge of the bed, waiting for her date.

As the digital alarm clock clicked over to seven o’clock, the hotel room door rumbled with a knock. Maybe no longer perfect, but prompt.

She swept open the door and drank in her first sight of Dylan out of uniform. His jeans hugged his thighs and his blue T-shirt matched his eyes. His twin sister, Devon, had gotten the blond hair, but Dylan’s brown hair had streaks of gold that reflected the California sunshine.

“You’re a little overdressed for Coral Cove, but you look great.”

She twirled around in her summer dress, nearly tripping in her flip-flops. “This old thing?”

“One of your designs?”

“No, I’ve had this for years. Probably bought it here.” She grabbed a small purse and a sweater. “Where to?”

“Somewhere on the coast?” He placed his hand on the small of her back as they walked through the motel’s courtyard. “How’d it go with your laptop?”

“Not good. I’m going to need the computer guy.”

“Remind me tonight. I’ll give you his number.” He opened the door of his truck and she balanced one foot on the runner and hopped onto the seat.

As Dylan slid into the driver’s seat, she said, “You always did like your trucks.”

“Nothing much has changed.”

She slid a gaze to her left. She doubted that. The blue-and-red tattoo crawling down his forearm was testament to that. She could now see the design—a one and a five, with the curve of the five swirling to his wrist, ending in an arrow.

What the heck did it mean?

He aimed the car down the coast where the twinkling lights outlined the curve of the shoreline.

“No more mishaps?”

“Like I said, I bolted my door, took stock of my purse and laptop and took a quick nap.”

“Did that ex of yours contact you?”

“Nope.”

“What do you think he hoped to accomplish by leaving that doll for you?”

She adjusted the straps of her sundress beneath her sweater and shrugged. “Intimidation.”

Dylan threw back his head and barked out a laugh. “He doesn’t know you too well, does he?”

“He’s desperate. Desperate people do desperate things.”

“Yeah, don’t forget that.”

They pulled into the front drive of the restaurant, and Dylan left his truck with a valet parking attendant.

Mia pointed to the dark sky with wisps of pink sketched along the horizon. “Looks like we missed the sunset.”

“Good, maybe we can get a window seat.”

She pinched his side. “Who are you kidding? This town rolled out the red carpet for you when you returned. They’ll give you anything, certainly a window seat.”

He squeezed her hip. “I don’t know. Not when I’m with the town pariah.”

His words, meant in jest, caused a frisson of fear to zigzag down her spine. She didn’t want to be the town pariah.

His arm curled around her waist and he pulled her close. “I’m just kidding. Half the town is going to love you when you make your decision. The other half is going to have to live with it.”

Mia smirked as the hostess fell all over herself finding a window seat for the chief of police.

Dylan ordered a beer and Mia stuck with her old standby, a frozen margarita, the rim caked with salt.

Dylan’s eyes darkened to the color of the Pacific Ocean out their window as he watched her lick the salt off the edge of the glass before taking a sip of her drink through the straw.

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “You always did like margaritas…you and Marissa.”

She took a bigger gulp of her drink, ignoring the brain freeze. “Where is she, Dylan?”

“Where did her last postcard come from?”

“The south of France.”

“So she’s in Cote d’Azure?”

“That was last year.”

“Haven’t heard from her since?”

“No.”

“And before that?”

“A year before France, she sent me a postcard from Spain—the Costa del Sol.”

“And what does she say in these postcards?”

“Inane, meaningless things—having a great time, don’t worry, see you soon.”

“Sounds like Marissa—inane and meaningless.”

“Ouch.”

He skimmed a hand across the table and toyed with her fingers. “You always had more substance than Marissa.”

“I just don’t understand why she doesn’t email me, give me a return address, invite me to join her sometime.”

“For twins you two were never that close.”

Mia clenched the napkin in her lap. “I’m beginning to realize how far apart we really were.”

“Kylie Grant had a feeling Marissa was dead. That doesn’t mean a whole lot.”

“Kylie Grant is a Gypsy fortune-teller.”

Dylan grinned. “Apparently, that Gypsy fortune-teller mesmerized my buddy Matt Conner. They’re together now.”

“Have you contacted Matt about tracking down my sister yet?”

“Not yet. I know he’s working on getting his job back with the LAPD after he was framed.”

The waitress interrupted them with a plate of steaming calamari.

Mia plucked a few of the crispy critters from the pile and dropped them on her plate. “And what about you? Aren’t you going to miss the big city police department in San Jose?”

“No.” Dylan dragged a calamari through some red cocktail sauce on his plate and sucked it into his mouth.

The tattoo on his arm undulated with his flexing muscle, and Mia reached out a slightly greasy fingertip and tapped it.

“Are you ever going to tell me about this? What does the number fifteen signify?”

“I’ll tell you about it sometime. Maybe if you stick around long enough.”

Was that a bribe to get her to hang around town? His reticence to discuss the tattoo only increased its mystery.

She crunched through another calamari, tilting her head. “You were always a straight shooter. You’ve got secrets now.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“Yeah, they do.” And if he was still holding on to a few of his, she’d hold on to hers.

They polished off the appetizer just in time for their dinners. Secrets forgotten for the time being, they reminisced about growing up in Coral Cove. For Mia, the sexual tension between them receded, and she felt the warmth of reconnecting with an old friend, a friend who knew and understood her roots.

It had been too long.

And the dinner ended too soon.

Dylan started the car and Mia said, “Are you sure the chief of police should be driving after a beer?”

“Umm, one beer for a six-foot-two, one-hundred-and-ninety-pound man as opposed to two margaritas for a five-foot-four, one-hundred-pound woman? I’ll take those odds.”

“I don’t weigh a hundred pounds.”

“Whatever. You’re tipsy.”

“I’m not tipsy.”

He pulled onto the highway, and the lights merged into a diffused glow. She squinted and the lights blurred even more. Maybe she
was
tipsy.

He pulled in front of the Sea View Motel. “Is Gladys still on duty?”

“Gladys is always on duty. Since her husband died, she pretty much runs the place on her own.”

Dylan held her hand as they followed the path to her motel room. His grasp felt warm and sure and right. Maybe she
would
stick around long enough to discover how he got that tattoo.

They reached the door of her motel room, and Mia turned on her toes, not sure what to expect. Had this been a date? A get-together of old friends? Maybe she should just let Dylan take the lead. She didn’t always have to be the one taking charge and making decisions.

A smile touched her lips, natural and spontaneous. “Thanks for dinner.”

“My pleasure. It was great…catching up.”

She fluttered her fingers toward the courtyard. “I guess if I were staying at a nicer place, we could have a drink in the bar or something.”

“I don’t need another drink, and neither do you.”

Did he just slam the door in her face?

“Umm, you’re probably right.” She gripped his arm and rose on her tiptoes, planting a kiss on his rough cheek. “Good night, Dylan.”

His eyes glowed for a moment like he wanted to devour her. Then he pinched her nose. “Good night, Mimi.”

He stepped back as she gave him a halfhearted wave and shut the door. Leaning her hot cheek against the cheap wood, she heard his retreating footsteps.

With that gesture and the childhood nickname, Dylan had doused any flame that had been dancing in the pit of her stomach. He’d made it clear he wanted to keep things platonic.

She could do that.

She kicked her leather flip-flops into the corner and shrugged out of her sweater. She’d better torpedo any romantic thoughts she had about Dylan and get back to business.

The solid rap on her motel room door had her forgetting all her dire warnings to herself, and she flew to answer it.

She flung open the door, ready to throw herself into Dylan’s arms. Instead, she faced a squat, beefy man with tangled black hair, a gold-toothed leer and a tattoo just like Dylan’s.

Chapter Six

Dylan cruised to the corner in his truck with the window down. He glanced in his rearview mirror at the single headlight from a motorcycle that turned into the Sea View Motel. He accelerated away from the stop sign and buzzed up his window against the noise from his engine.

Engine noise.

Why hadn’t he heard any noise from that bike heading into Mia’s motel?