Deception (8 page)

He roared up the highway, and then made a U-turn at the first opportunity. With his heart racing as fast as his engine, he careened back down the road toward the Sea View. His truck bounced and jostled as he drove it into the driveway, and he threw it into Park right behind Gladys’s old Saab.

And the Harley leaning into its kickstand.

Dylan shoved open his door and jogged down the semilighted path to Mia’s room. Her voice rose into the night, sure and strong:

“Get lost.”

The adrenaline in Dylan’s body pumped into his extremities, putting every muscle on high alert. A low growl rumbled deep in his throat when he spotted the squat figure at Mia’s door, his booted foot in the doorjamb, his hand reaching for his waistband.

Dylan’s jog turned into a sprint and he hurtled himself at the man, knocking him off balance and sending them both crashing to the ground.

Mia screamed.

The solid form beneath him grunted and cursed. Dylan drew a breath into his tight chest when he met the eyes of Rocco Vick.

Dylan drew back his arm and slugged the scumbag in the jaw. The cracking noise could’ve been the guy’s bone or his head against the cement. Either way, his dull eyes rolled back in their sockets and his mouth slackened, a dribble of blood seeping from the corner.

Dylan shoved his arm against Vick’s throat to make sure he was out cold, and then reached for his cell phone to call for backup.

“What’s going on, Dylan? Who is he?”

After speaking into the phone, he cranked his head toward Mia’s pale face. She was hugging herself and had one leg crossed over the other.

“He’s some dirtbag from a motorcycle gang. Dangerous and on parole. Did he hurt you?”

“Didn’t have much of a chance. He knocked on my door, I…I answered it, told him he had the wrong room, and he started making advances.”

“Advances?” His mouth was so dry he had a hard time speaking.

“You know—started with the lines and tried to shove his way into my room.”

“My God, Mia.” Dylan pushed to his feet, keeping one shoe on the unconscious man’s throat. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I had no intention of letting him in my room. I was just about to knee him in the…well, you-know-whats.”

Dylan shook his head, the tension seeping from his back and shoulders as the sound of a siren permeated the air.

“Why was he here, Dylan? Do you know him?”

He shifted his gaze to Vick’s face and raked it across the numbered tattoo on his forearm. He increased the pressure of his foot on the man’s neck.

“Yeah.”

The patrol car squealed to a stop, and Gladys’s reedy voice filtered down the path. “What’s happening?”

Two officers with Gladys bringing up the rear hustled into the courtyard. “Where is he, Chief?”

“Under my foot. I knocked him out. Check him for priors and a parole violation.” Dylan nudged the intruder’s leg with the toe of his shoe. “He has a knife on him, too.”

As the officers worked to bring the man around, Dylan backpedaled Mia into her room and slammed the door behind them. “You don’t need to see that.”

She grabbed the front of his shirt, bunching the material in her fists. “Okay, stop dancing around now. Who was that guy, how did you know he was here, and most important, why do the two of you have matching tattoos?”

“You noticed that, huh?” He rubbed his hand over the ink on his arm. “I knew I should’ve tried to have it removed before showing up here.”

She dragged him to the bed—not that he hadn’t fantasized about this since the minute he laid eyes on her in town—then she pushed him down, dropping next to him on the mattress. “Spill.”

For safety’s sake, she deserved to know why she’d been accosted, but he didn’t have to tell her
everything.
Now was not the time to spoil his image in her eyes.

“That dude is a member of the Fifteenth Street Lords…and so was I.”

She sucked in a short breath and squeaked it out. “Were you undercover or something?”

“Exactly.”

She traced the lines of the tattoo and he shivered. “Pretty dedicated to the assignment to get this ink job. You couldn’t have gotten a henna tattoo or something?”

“I don’t think that would’ve gone over too big with the Lords.”

“At least you didn’t have to kill someone to prove your loyalty…did you?”

A spasm of pain twisted his gut, but he stretched his lips into a smile over his clenched teeth. “No, but my cover was blown and…some bad stuff went down.”

She pointed an unsteady finger at the door. “Is that why that Neanderthal showed up?”

“Yes.” The tightness in his belly increased when he realized he’d brought danger to Mia’s doorstep…more danger. Could the Lords have been responsible for the brakes going out on her rental car? They would have liked nothing more than to get revenge on him for infiltrating their little party—and Vick harbored a special hatred toward him.

Even though Dylan had already paid big-time for all of it.

Scooting closer to him on the bed, Mia asked, “Why’d you come back to the motel? How did you know he was here?”

“I noticed the motorcycle in my rearview mirror. A motorcycle with a silent engine.”

“So you knew it was one of your old friends.”

His back stiffened and he chewed his words. “They’re not my friends. Never were.”

“I know that.” Soothing fingers trailed down his arm. “Just trying to lighten the mood a little so I don’t crawl into the bed and pull the covers over my head.”

“I’m sorry.” He caressed her neck, and her silky hair tickled the back of his hand. “I brought that guy here. He came down here because of me and must’ve followed me.”

She leaned against his touch for a minute before springing up from the bed. Bracing her shoulder against the wall, she peeked out the curtains. “They’re gone. What are they going to do with him?”

“Probably turn him over to his parole officer. He’ll be heading back to prison, since he just violated about a hundred terms of his parole.”

She let the curtain fall back into place and squared her shoulders against the wall. “Will there be more?”

“Maybe.” He reclined on the bed, propping himself up with his elbows. “They’re not going to kill me or anything—that hit would be too high profile, even for the Lords.”

“But they might continue to harass you…and those close to you.”

He eased up from the bed and sauntered toward Mia, still holding up the wall. He braced his hands on either side of her head. “Are you close to me?”

The little bow between her breasts on the sundress trembled with the pounding of her heart. Her tongue swept across her lips, moistening them to a glossy pink. “W-we’re old friends.”

He studied her long, dark lashes fluttering over her eyes and bent his head to brush his lips across her mouth, still tangy from her twin margaritas. The tantalizing chasteness of the kiss sent a jolt of desire through his core, making him hard.

He’d avoided falling under the St. Regis spell when he’d been a hormonal teen, and now that he was a seasoned adult that spell was dragging him along like a tidal wave.

Leaning her head against the inside of his arm, she sighed. She’d had a rough day—the rock, the parolee—he didn’t want to strike while her defenses were down.

He lifted a strand of her hair, rubbing it between his two fingers. “You’re tired. You need some sleep.”

Her eyelids flew open. “I need…sleep.”

He avoided the temptation of tweaking her nose again to put them back on familiar footing. Maybe a little unsteadiness was what they both needed to figure this out.

Dropping another kiss on top of her head, he said, “Lock up, and don’t open the door for anyone. Didn’t you look out the window first when you opened the door to that thug?”

“I thought it was you. I thought maybe you’d forgotten something.” Her dark eyes softened, and he knew if he made a move now he’d find fertile ground for his advances.

“Watch yourself, Mia. I’ll try to check up on you tomorrow. And don’t go out to that house by yourself anymore.”

She nodded. “Thanks for taking out that guy.”

He grinned. “Sounded like you were doing a pretty good job of that yourself.”

She closed the door behind him and he listened for the deadbolt. Maybe the Fifteenth Street gang member was behind the brakes and even the rock. The doll? Not the Lords’ style.

With Vick locked up, Mia should be safe. Unless she had her own enemies in this town…enemies who pretended to be friends.

* * *

T
HE FOLLOWING MORNING
, Mia stopped by the motel office on her way to her new rental car. She poked her head in the door. “You okay, Gladys?”

“I’m okay.” She glanced up from her gossip mag and slid her glasses down her nose. “Are you?”

“Couldn’t be better.” Especially after that smooch from Dylan last night. It didn’t count as a full-fledged kiss, but lip-on-lip had to count for something.

“I’ve never seen so much action around this old place.” Gladys tapped her chin. “And I heard someone threw a rock at you yesterday.”

“It’s just a scratch.”

“And the man last night?”

“Someone from Dylan’s past, but he showed up in time to take the guy out.”

“Chief seems to be spending a lot of time here.” She pushed the glasses back up her nose and buried it in the glossy pages of her magazine.

“See you later.” Mia practically skipped from the office. For running into a string of bad luck, she sure felt good.

She drove through town and, slowing down, peered out the window at the addresses on the east-Ohside apartment buildings. Last night, Dylan had given her the phone number of the computer whiz, and the guy, Alec Wright, had asked her to bring the laptop to his place.

Spotting the ceramic numbers on the side of the pink stucco building, she pulled to the curb as a car sped past. She cut the engine and stared after the blue car taking the corner at a high rate of speed. Had that car been following her?

After last night’s adventure with the motorcycle goon, she really needed to be more aware of her surroundings.

She slipped from the car and hauled her battered and charred laptop case from the trunk. Her heart skipped at the sound of another car engine behind her, and she twirled around, her fight-or-flight instinct in high gear.

She let out her breath with a whoosh as the now-familiar Coral Cove P.D. squad car rolled up behind her rental.

Dylan exited the car and swooped in to take the laptop case from her. “Just wanted to make sure you made it over here okay.”

“Did you think I’d get lost?” She wedged a hand on her hip. “How’d you know I was heading over here this morning anyway?”

“Uh, Alec gave me a call.” The color heightened on his face as he shifted the case from one hand to the other.

“Do you have spies all over town keeping track of my every move, Chief?” She couldn’t tell if the buzz at the base of her spine signaled annoyance or pleasure. She hadn’t had anyone to look after her since her grandfather passed away, and truth be told, she’d been more of the caretaker than the other way around in that relationship.

“He just wanted to follow up to let me know you called. I asked him when you were coming by and happened to be in the area.”

“Uh-huh.” She lifted her chin toward the apartment building. “Let’s not keep Mr. Computer Whiz waiting.”

“Are you okay after last night?”

Did he mean the kiss or the thug? She glanced over her shoulder, noticing the lines creasing his brow. Must mean the thug.

“The guy never laid a hand on me, thanks to you.”

“No thanks to me, he followed you to your motel in the first place.”

“Working undercover with guys like that must’ve been one heckuva dangerous assignment. How’d your cover get blown?”

“I slipped up.”

Then he zipped up. He’d closed the subject before it even got started. Noticing the square set of his shoulders and his compressed lips, Mia let it go.

He squeezed past her on the stairs. “He’s on the second floor, corner unit.”

He led the way and she followed, admiring the way his uniform fit his athletic frame. His rap on the door jolted her out of her dreaminess. No wonder people could anonymously leave dolls on her doorstep, chuck rocks at her and follow her home on a Harley without her noticing a thing. Dylan had been distracting her ever since she got to town.

A tall, wiry man opened the door. His eyebrows jumped when he saw both of them on his porch. “Wasn’t expecting you, Dylan.”

“I ran into Mia on the street. Do you remember Mia St. Regis? Mia, this is Alec Wright.”

They shook hands and Alec squinted at her through his glasses. “You were ahead of me in school a few years, but I remember the St. Regis twins. Who didn’t know the St. Regis twins?”

“I guess nobody.” She nudged the laptop case hitched over Dylan’s shoulder. “I hope you can help me recover my data.”

Alec swung his door wide and pointed to a row of computer monitors and towers lining one wall of his small apartment. “If I can rescue your hard drive, I think we have a chance.”

They crossed the room to the computer bank, and Mia pulled her laptop out of the case. “At least it didn’t burn, but it got bounced around pretty good.”

Alec booted up the computer, watched the error messages scroll down the blue screen and sucked in his cheek. “Yeah, there’s some damage to the motherboard, but the hard drive might be salvageable.”

“I hope so. I have…stuff I need on there.”

“No backup?”

She held up her hands. “Guilty. I would occasionally drag important files and…and some pictures over to a flash drive, but I haven’t done that in a few weeks.”

“If I can recover anything, I’ll put it on one of my computers.” He tapped a monitor almost lovingly. “Then when you buy a new computer, I can transfer it over for you.”

“That would be great.” She turned to Dylan. “Is that big electronics store still by the outlet mall down the coast?”

“Still there. Are you going out there now?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Planning on a police escort?”

“No. I have a whole town to police.”

Alec popped his head up from a cabinet he’d been rummaging in, clutching a cable. “I might have this ready by later this afternoon if you want to check back.”