Diner Impossible (A Rose Strickland Mystery) (18 page)

With a sigh, I walked over to the futon and flopped next to him. “If I were the slightest bit interested in Dane, would I be with you?” I looked into those cold, rage-filled eyes and repressed a shudder. When Sullivan got really worked up, he was like a tightly coiled spring ready to go
boing
.

My leg tucked beneath me, I shifted to face him and leaned my head against his outstretched arm. “Dane’s a friend. That’s all he’ll ever be.”

Without warning, he reached out and grasped my nape, pulling my head closer to his. “I will not be played, Rose. Especially not by you.” Then he kissed me. It wasn’t seductive or coaxing. It was a warning. A branding.

I thrust my hands into his dark mane and kissed him back. I was making my intentions clear as well. I wanted him—all of him.

Suddenly, I found myself lying flat on my back, with Sullivan spread out on top of me. He’d let go of my nape and his hands shoved beneath my sweater, pulling it over my head in one swift move. My bra quickly followed.

I tugged his jacket over his shoulders, yanked the knot from his tie, and practically ripped the buttons from his shirt in my haste to feel his bare chest against my own.

At first, I clutched his back as we continued to kiss, but slowly I eased up, letting my fingers rub along his smooth skin. Over his shoulder blades and down to his tapered waist. Without the sophisticated veneer of his clothes, he appeared almost savage as he pulled away. His hair was a sexy tangle. His pupils had grown wide, swallowing up the burnished gold of his irises.

“I’m not playing games with you.” His normally smooth, deep voice became gruff and textured. He was breathing as hard as I was and every time his chest pressed against my breasts, it made me ache for more.

Reaching up, I stroked the planes of his beautiful face. “What do you mean?”

I wanted to hear him say it, say those words, the ones floating through my head every time he touched me, made love to me.

“You know how I feel.” He bent down to kiss me, but I stopped him by grabbing a hank of his hair in my other fist.

“How do you feel?”

No, I didn’t want to hear the words. I needed to hear them.

His body froze, but his high cheekbones became flushed. “I’d fucking kill for you,” he ground out.

We tore at each other then, ripping at zippers and buttons. What followed was frenzied and raw. Passionate. And his eyes stayed on mine through it all. Never breaking contact. Not for one instant.

Chapter 22

When I woke the next morning, I was cocooned in Sullivan’s warm arms. He’d stayed.

I smiled against his chest, wanted to linger there, cuddling next to him for the rest of the day. But my phone’s alarm started blaring like a siren.

I reached over to the side table and shut it off, then curled back into Sullivan for just a few more minutes. He hadn’t awakened. His sharp features looked less fierce, but just as beautiful while he slept.

I’d been wondering for weeks if his feelings ran as deep as mine. What he gave me last night was so much more than three little words. And I believed what he said. The man would kill for me. God, only Sullivan could make a declaration like that impossibly romantic.

As gently as I could, I disentangled myself from his embrace and hustled into the shower. By the time I emerged from the bathroom, dressed and ready to face the day, Sullivan had gotten up, folded the blanket, and made coffee.

The aroma perked me up; seeing him without a shirt set me on fire. Tawny, smooth skin over hard-ridged muscles. His hair was a dark tangle. My fingers tingled at the thought of taming it. The smile he wore was arrogant and full of naughty promises.

Why? Why had I gotten out of bed?

“Good morning,” I said. All of the sudden I felt shy and girly.

He smirked. “Would have been better if you’d stayed in bed with me.”

I grinned and looked away. “Yeah, well, some of us work non-vampire hours.”

He crooked his finger. “Come here.”

I walked into his arms and buried my face against his chest. He kissed the top of my head and stroked his hand down my back. Before things could go further, I pushed away and leaning on my tiptoes, kissed his prickly chin.

“I have to get to work.” I practically fled the apartment. Otherwise, he’d have had me flat on my back again in no time.

The rain hadn’t abated all night, and this morning, it poured down in waves, which of course meant people tromped in with wet shoes. Jorge spent most of the morning mopping the floor. Lightening zipped through the sky and every time thunder boomed, I jumped a little.

Roxy’s mood was as foul as the weather. She hadn’t put any effort into her outfit this morning. She actually wore sweatpants and a t-shirt. All was not well in Roxyville. And when the guy at the back table timidly complained that he’d ordered wheat toast, she snatched the offending white bread off the table and replaced it by slamming the whole wheat in front of him, sending toast flying off the plate and onto the center of the table.

“I suppose you want me to get some more? This isn’t good enough either?” With her hands on her hips, she leaned over him.

“No, no that’s quite all right. I’m sure the table’s very clean,” he said.

I walked behind the counter and ordered him fresh toast. When Roxy whooshed past me to grab the coffee pot, I stopped her.

“Rox, you can’t take it out on the customers.”

One of her eyes narrowed. “I can’t have a bad day? Go to hell, Rose.” She shoved the coffee pot back on the burner and ran off to the bathroom.

I snagged the man’s toast at the pass thru and slid it in front of him on my way to the ladies’.

Roxy’d locked the door and I knocked until she opened it. Slipping inside, I barred the door with my back.

Roxy, her eyes red and swollen, her face mottled, sat on the sink and buried her head in her hands.

“I thought Tariq and I had something special, you know? And now he’s in a relationship with someone else. Changed his status and everything. Then I went and made a fool of myself over stupid Brian. What is wrong with me?”

Roxy wasn’t big on affection. Nevertheless, I wrapped my arms around her and let her sob. “Nothing’s wrong with you. Boys are dumb.” I rubbed circles along her back. “Look, go home. Get some rest or go take in a movie. Just relax.”

“Think Ma would mind?” she asked with a sniff.

“No. The rain’s kept things slow this morning and she’s in the kitchen looking at a gadget catalog. Splash some water on your face, it’ll make you feel better.”

I opened the door.

“Rose? I can always count on you, you know?”

“Ditto.”

I left her and as I walked back through the dining room, my gaze took in the customers, seeing if anybody needed anything. They all seemed too cool for school, so I walked into the kitchen, found Ma harassing poor Ray.

“I’m telling you, son, that’s too much flour.” She started to nudge him out of the way. “Here, let me show you.”

Ray rumbled deep in his chest.

“Ma, Roxy’s a disaster. Boy trouble.”

She looked up and adjusted her frames. “Figured as much. And that Brian is a gigolo. Half the Trekkers in the tri-state area have fallen for his schtick. Roxy got snookered.”

“He was just a rebound anyway. I told her to go on home. Hope that’s okay.”

“Sure, toots. Let her rest. I’ll take her something for dinner later on. Comfort food. Let’s go work the room.” She slung her arm around my shoulders and together we reentered the dining room.

Roxy emerged from the bathroom and slunk off to the kitchen without waving goodbye. She had me worried. Usually, she shook off setbacks. But this thing with Tariq knocked her on her ass and kept her there.

Ma and I easily handled the customers. But around eight-thirty, things turned ugly. Not with the weather. With the SPuRTs.

Stomping in from the rain, shaking their coats and umbrellas all over the floor, the Starfleet crew arrived—only eight of them, but Captain Smith was large and in charge of this little party.

“Rose,” he said, walking to the counter. The other Trekkers pushed together two tables and sat down. “I’d like to discuss the events which occurred last night.”

“Sure. Give me a minute to check on my customers.” I grabbed both high octane and decaf carafes and strolled around the room. Then, I led him to the storage closet/office and settled on the desk.

He closed the door and regarded me with cool eyes. Locking his hands behind him, forcing his belly out even further, he simply stared and waited. Little did he know, I’d been through this a million times with the master. Sullivan’s silences were much more effective.

“If you want to have a stare-off, I need to get back out there,” I said. “We’re short-handed today.”

“The conduct you and your friends displayed was abhorrent. Childish, violent, cowardly.”

I held up a hand. “Cowardly? How so?”

“You simply ran away. A child behaves that way, not a full grown adult.”

“Um, Bee Hive wanted to brawl with Roxy. So, yeah, we left before things got worse. And I hate to break it to you, Mark,” he stiffened at the use of his name and thrust his chin out a little further, “but Bee Hive shoved Roxy first. So, it was game on.”

“Her name,” he said with exaggerated patience, “is Lieutenant Junior Grade Katherine Donner.”

I stood. “I don’t care if her name is Tanya Tittyshaker, she pushed Roxy. No one,” I pointed a finger up toward his nose, “no one pushes my Roxy and gets away with it. Now, I have to get back to work. Did you come here to eat or start trouble?”

His brows lowered. “If that missing uniform doesn’t mysteriously turn up within twenty-four hours, I will call the national president of the KAWs. This chapter will be disbanded, dishonored, and blackballed from all future
Star Trek
Cons.”

“Forty-eight hours,” I said. “Because I can tell you right now, the number one suspect is Sid Rivers. He had the most motive.”

“Sid? Why Sid?”

I gave a little laugh of disbelief. “Because Dale/Divak stole Sid’s girl. If Sid stole the uniform, he’d not only be able to offload it to some lucky Trek fan, he’d get back at Dale, who’s being suspected by his own band of brother KAWs. Thus Sid would have his revenge, a dish best served cold.
And it is very cold…in space,
” I said, quoting Ricardo Montalbán. Axton made me watch every
Star Trek
movie at least three times. And Sid was right,
The Wrath of Khan
was the best of the bunch.

Captain Smith shook his head. “Sid would never do that. He’s deeply hurt by Melissa Sue’s betrayal. But he’s an officer through and through.”

“Right.” I shoved my hands in my back pockets. “You realize that this is all fictional rank? I mean, you understand this is all make believe?”

His face slipped into an angry countenance. “Of course. Do you think us imbeciles?”

“Um.”

“Find who did this. Or I’ll go up the chain of command. Forty-eight hours, as you’ve requested.”

He flung open the door, ready to march out, when I said, “We add a twenty percent gratuity for parties larger than six.”

His shoulders stiffened and he stalked down the hall.

Ha! We never added gratuity. But I didn’t trust those Fleeties. And I wasn’t about to get fleeced on a tip.

I was dog tired by the end of my shift. The SPuRTs ate more than the Klingons. And were way messier. Without Roxy, it took twice as long to clean up. Ma wanted to help, but she needed to make a supply run, so I insisted on doing it alone.

In the office, I called Ax and gave him the lowdown on the Captain Smith’s latest threat. He was understandably upset, but unruffled. That’s Ax for you.

“Hey,” he said, “Melissa Sue wants us to come over for dinner tonight at seven. She wants to explain the situation about her affair with Dale.”

I rubbed my forehead. I was tired of everyone’s secrets. “Ax, I don’t really care and it’s none of my business.” Besides, I was going to fail my mid-terms if I didn’t get some study time in.

“She doesn’t want you to think she’s as slutty as a Delta,” Ax said. “And they’re a highly promiscuous race.”

“Fine, I’ll drive.” That way, I could scoot along if things got weird. And with the Klingons, things usually got that way pretty quickly. “Why don’t you bring Dale?” That way I could hear both sides of the story in one sitting.

“I don’t know, they haven’t really spoken since Melissa’s breakup with Sid.”

“Tell Divak to suck it up. It’s for the good of the KAWs.”

“Will do. Thanks for doing this, Rose.”

I hit the end button and shoved the phone in my pocket. Ax didn’t have anything to thank me for. I hadn’t found the missing uniform, I hadn’t cleared the KAWs’ good name. And I didn’t even want to think about Delia Cummings. I was floundering there, as well.

I grabbed a broom from the office and had walked into the dining room when the little bell jangled over the door. Dane Harker stood tall, handsome, and professional in his London Fog coat and plaid Burberry scarf.

When he saw me, dimples appeared on his cheeks.

“Hey. I thought of something this morning,” he said, propping his huge black umbrella on the red floor mat. “Completely unrelated to Delia Cummings’ death, but I thought I’d drop by and mention it.”

I leaned the broom against the wall, walked behind the counter, and poured him a cup of coffee.

“You want the last donut?” I nodded at the cake stand where one lonely blueberry remained.

He shrugged out of his coat. “No thanks.”

I supposed he didn’t get that toned by indulging in donuts.

Dane gracefully moved to the counter and slid onto a stool, folding his hands around the warm, ceramic mug. “That rain is freezing.”

I leaned my elbows on the counter. “So what’s this interesting tidbit?”

His eyes sought mine over the rim of his cup. “There was a country club charity benefit last month. Julia Baxter’s purse went missing. I overheard her complaining about it to Mills. He said she’d probably misplaced it, but she was adamant that someone had taken it. It didn’t go any further because, of course, you can’t accuse Huntingford’s most prominent citizens of theft.”

“Of course. Such paragons are above crime.” I rolled my eyes. “So why is this important?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought about it while I was shaving this morning and thought, ‘I should tell Rose.’ This is the useless trivia you seem to thrive on.”

“What is the deal with that club? Events are a freaking snoozetown, then later, you find out it’s this little microcosm of every vice imaginable.”

Dane laughed. “A lot of business goes on there. You catch people in a relaxed setting, their guard is down—it helps grease the wheels. For instance, I knew Keeler would be at the dance the other night.”

“I thought you were babysitting a MILF, but you had an ulterior motive?” He shook his finger at me.

“That joke just keeps getting funnier every time you tell it.”

I zipped my lip.

“Anyway, I knew Keeler would be there. Bought him a drink and talked about my client who was scheduled in his court this week. Kid comes from money, but his parents are a little too hands off. He needs guidance, not punishment. I believe he can turn it around. Keeler agreed to give the kid probation with a stipulation that he goes to rehab and enrolls in a mentor program.”

I scooped a rag and held it to my bosom. “And to think, it all happened at the country club dance.”

Dane set his mug down on the counter. “Make fun all you want, but I’ve seen people join and their careers take off. The ones who don’t, get the shitty cases and work twice as hard. Backroom deals are frowned upon, but that’s the way of the world, Rose.”

I dropped the rag on the counter. “Maybe I should join. I’m tired of working twice as hard.”

“You don’t always play well with others. I’d call you more of a rebel than a joiner.”

I thought about it for all of four seconds. “Yeah, you’re right. Is that what happened with Mason Mathers and his drug problems? A backroom deal to keep the little snot out of trouble?”

“Yep,” Dane said. “You didn’t hear this from me, but the kid had enough pills on him to open his own pharmacy.”

That made sense, since I saw him the previous night selling pills outside the bowling alley. I wasn’t sure that sweeping Mason’s crimes under the rug was the best course of action for him. He needed serious help.

“Do you appear in Keeler’s court very often?” I asked, grabbing the sugar caddies.

“Every once in a while. Usually, I get stuck before Judge Frank. He’s a tough old bastard. I like Keeler better.”

“What’s so great about Keeler?” I began shoving pink, blue, and yellow packets along with sugar into the holders.

“Keeler’s known for his less-than-harsh sentences, whereas Judge Frank enjoys doling out maximum penalties.”

Dane finished his coffee and slid the empty mug toward me. “Thanks. I needed a jolt.”

“Thank you for stopping by and letting me know about Julia’s purse.” It had nothing to do with my case, but it was sweet that he thought about me. And I made sure he kept his hands and lips to himself today.

“Have dinner with me one night this week.” When he saw the hesitancy on my face, his next sentence was a rush. “Just as friends. I may have some useful info on Charlotte and David Ashby by then.”

I shook my head. “I can’t do that to Sullivan.”

His eyes became serious and the smile faded away. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

I wasn’t talking about this with Dane. “You’ll call me anyway? If you find out anything Ashby-wise?”

He nodded and without another word, grabbed his umbrella and coat before heading back out into the rain.