Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evie (10 page)

She stared up at me, all innocent and soft. But I wasn't no dummy. I’d seen her kind before. The kind that likes to sucker you in, make you think about things a man’s got no business thinking about with a broad like that. Then, wham. She pulls the rug out, see? And you're left flat on your back with a ring in your pocket and mud on your face.

T. E. Heyworth, 1959

The Lady Takes No Prisoners

Everyone was hungry, so Suze came by the table and took their orders. While they waited, Evie sat back in her chair, idly stirring her coffee with a spoon, letting Thomas’s words stir around inside her head.

Suze arrived with plates heaped with food and placed them in front of each of them. After she’d departed, Max said, “Any ideas?”

Evie picked up her fork, resting her hand on the table. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I’m still thinking.”

Max doused his eggs with salt and pepper then heaped strawberry jam on his toast. “Where is
The Lady Takes No Prisoners
set?”

“Seattle mostly,” Lorna offered. She lowered her lashes and blushed. “I read a lot of Mr. Heyworth’s
books in preparation for working for him. Unfortunately, since he was killed so soon after I arrived, it didn’t really do much good.”

“But you read this book,” Dabney said, as he added ketchup to his hash-browned potatoes. “And it takes place in Seattle. What part?”

Lorna gave a delicate shrug. “All over the place. The villain of the story is a door-to-door brush salesman who approaches housewives, then kills them.”

“Does he get caught?”

She nodded. “He falls for an undercover policewoman who sets him up.”

They were all silent as they ate their breakfasts and pondered the meaning of the clues. Finally, Evie said, “We might not be able to figure this one out as easily as the first one. If Lorna and I can’t decipher our clues, maybe Edmunds can’t figure his out, either, and he’ll head back to the island.”

Max tossed down his napkin. “I think we should go to the library, get a copy of the book, and go through it page by page. Maybe something’ll pop.”

“Oh, dear,” Evie drawled, sending Max a sardonic look. “I think I actually agree with you.”

“Hmm. I just may have to note that in my memoirs.”

“That might be a good idea,” she quipped, “since it will probably never happen again.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that, sweetheart.” Then he winked.

Damn, she wished he’d cut that kind of thing out! Just when she had it in her head to dislike him, he’d do something charming. She wished he’d make up
his mind on how to
be,
so she could figure out just how she felt about him.

They finished breakfast and rose from the table. The men paid the bill, then the four of them headed for the door.

Outside, the late morning sun had decided to hide behind a layer of dense clouds. A breeze had come up, carrying the scent of rain with it. Evie stopped at the curb and looked over at Max, who was deep in conversation with Dabney and Lorna. Though she didn’t know Lorna very well, it was obvious the woman had developed feelings for the handsome poet, who didn’t look like a poet at all—at least, not like any poet Evie had ever seen. He seemed shy and sweet, and very attentive to the equally shy and sweet secretary.

Out of the corner of her eye something caught her attention. A flash of light—then the window behind her shattered!

Evie screamed and lifted her arms to cover her face. Another blast, and wood splinters from the door behind her spiked through the air.

She felt an impact, like a locomotive knocking over a rag doll. The air whooshed from her lungs as she landed hard on the sidewalk, a heavy object covering her body.

Max.

His arms were around her back, her head cradled in his hands so her skull wouldn’t slam against the cement.

Another blast, and the sidewalk beside their heads spit pellets into her exposed scalp. She buried her face in his shoulder.

Arms still wound around her, Max rolled the two of them into the gutter behind a parked car. His weight felt solid and secure against her as he shielded her from the gunfire.

A second passed, then another. He reached into his pocket for his cell phone, and his open hand brushed her breast. For a moment she stopped breathing.

He punched a button. “Shots fired!” he shouted into the phone. “Tawy’s, across the street from North Precinct. Location of shooter unknown. Exit precinct with caution. Four
individuals on the ground…
Yeah, affirmative.”

She could feel his chest expand and contract with each labored breath. He had one arm around her, the other free to hold the phone, but he seemed in no hurry to let her go, even though the gunfire had ceased.

Sirens screamed around them, voices shouted as police officers swarmed the area, and customers and business owners crowded onto the sidewalk to see what the commotion was.

Snapping his cell phone closed, he looked into Evie’s eyes for the first time.

He licked his lips. “You okay?” he panted.

Though her heart was racing and her mouth had gone dry, she managed, “Uh-huh.” The bruises on her back hurt like hell. She wanted to cry from the pain but fought it.

She realized her legs had somehow wrapped around Max’s and that his groin had settled into hers. With a start, she realized he was engaged in a full-fledged stress-induced erection.

“Tell me you’re not hurt, Evie,” he whispered, his lips only inches from hers. He looked deeply into her eyes as though he’d be able to see her answer before she spoke.
As though he’d see something im
portant there, if only he looked hard enough.

She’d never been this close to a man without kissing him. Did Max want to kiss her? Did she want him to?

“The bruises on my shoulder and back are killing me,” she rasped, blinking, breaking eye contact with him. “But I wasn’t
shot, if that’s what you mean.
”

Seconds passed. No more shots came. He’d be getting off her now, and while parts of her were glad of it, parts of her—everything south of the border—were going to be decidedly disappointed. It felt good to be in a man’s arms like this. But it wasn’t real. She had to remember that. He’d shoved her out of the line of fire, and that was all it was.

Pushing himself to his knees, Max brought her with him and gently sat her on the sidewalk, her back against the door of the parked car that had probably saved their lives.

“Stay put,” he said. His gaze dropped to her mouth. He licked his lips, then raised his eyes to hers.

When he didn’t immediately move away, she lifted her chin in silent challenge.
Make the first move, then. Kiss me.

He tilted toward her. Someone shouted his name. He blinked, breaking the spell that had been spun between them.

In one swift move he was on his feet, his hand inside his jacket, reaching for his weapon.

Suddenly, Lorna was beside her, plopped down by Dabney, who said, “Be right back.” In a swift move of his own, he was on his feet and running up the street after Max.

Both Evie and Lorna leaned forward to get a better view. The sight of two hunky men tearing off up the street after a bad guy made Evie’s blood sing all the way to her toes.

She glanced at Lorna, who rolled her eyes and fanned herself with her hand. “That’s enough to give
a woman an orgasm right there.
”

“Lorna?” Evie gaped. Taking a long, hard look at the secretary, she said, “So, still waters run deep, hmm?”

Lorna raised her delicate brows and she sent Evie a smile. “You have no idea.”

A policewoman approached and crouched in front of them. “You two okay?” she said. “An aid car is en route.”

Lorna appeared every bit as messed up as Evie felt. Both of them had streaks of blood on their faces and necks where flying debris had pelted them, but it didn’t seem to Evie that Lorna had taken a bullet, either.

The aid car arrived and cleaned them up, and a trip to the hospital was deemed unnecessary. The policewoman took their statements, while Evie anxiously watched the busy street to see where Max and Dabney had disappeared to.

She was fine. Unhurt. But she was changed, nonetheless.

Max was her enemy. They both knew it. So why
had she wanted him
to kiss her? The heat of the mo
ment? Maybe.

There were so many unanswered questions. Max Galloway was pushy and controlling and rigid. She knew she’d be absolutely crazy to fall for a man like him. So why was she tempted to do just that?

The look in his eyes when he’d asked her if she was hurt had gone straight to her bones. It had been real. He’d looked terrified. Was it because he cared about her a little, or was he simply afraid he’d lose Thomas’s money without her help? Or because if she were killed on his watch, his reputation would suffer? She didn’t like him and had told him so. Okay, she
hadn’t
wanted to like him, but over the last couple of days her dislike had been tempered.

Maybe Thomas had been a little wrong about Max. Maybe there was more here than met the eye. Maybe
…
Oh hell.

She lowered her head, placing her face in her hands. Dammit. Just because he
could
be charming and he
could
be funny, and when he touched her his caress was so incredib
ly gentle, it didn’t mean…

Oh,
hell.

Besides, she had a bigger problem than simply falling for Max Galloway. Somebody had fired shots at her. That meant the trap in the barn hadn’t been meant as a prank or to hurt her. It had been set to kill her, and that changed everything.

Chapter 10

D
ear
D
iary:

P
ete isn’t
g
oin
g
to be my dad. My mom said it’s be
cause
h
e suffercates
h
er
,
w
h
ate
v
er
t
h
at
means. She told me that men always want to own her and that when they
g
et
too
attached,
it’s
time
to
move
on.
I
told her I liked P
ete a lot and that maybe having
h
im
own us wouldn’t be too bad, but she said, nope, kiddo, we
’r
e
h
itting
the road. S
omeday, I’m never
g
oin
g
to
h
it
the road. I’m
g
oin
g
to find a
g
ood place and stay
th
ere
forever and ever.

Evangeline—ag
e 10

B
y the time they were done at the crime scene, it was too late to go to the library. The butler and the psychic had one hell of a head start on him, and if they’d already found Clue Number Three, they may even have found Number Four.

Max stood in the doorway of the precinct captain’s office, rubbing his jaw with his knuckles. Even if he knew what the sec
ond clue meant—
which he didn’t—the attack had taken a lot out of Evie and Lorna, and everyone needed some rest.

Especially Evie. She’d been through hell in the last week, and it wasn’t over yet. While he’d saved her from taking a bullet, her peace of mind had been shattered. Two attempts on her life in a week. Emotionally, she was trying to hold it together, but she was seriously shaken.

Walking over to where she sat against the wall, he crouched before her chair.

“Evie?” He looked into her face, and saw magnificently suppressed terror. Her eyes were rimmed with red, her cheeks were pale. She held her hands in her lap with fingers twisted together so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

“There must be something you can tell me,” he coaxed softly. “People are rarely targeted like this for no reason. Is there
anyone
you suspect? Any reason somebody might want you dead, even if it seems completely far-fetched?”

She blinked, then pressed her lips together. Her hands trembled, so he placed both of his over hers to warm them.

“Have you pissed anybody off lately?” he persisted. “Stolen somebody’s husband, stiffed a waiter after an expensive meal? Are you blackmailing anybody? Give me
something
here, honey.”

“D-Don’t call me that.”

“Honey?”
He shrugged. “Most people consider it an endearment.”

“I don’t like it,” she said quickly. “My
…
my mother’s boyfriends used to call me that. They were always around, looking at me, wanting to touch me. ‘C’mere, honey,’ they’d say. ‘How about you climb up here on my lap an
d…
’
”

Her voice trailed off. Then, licking her lips she said, “Don’t call me honey. I don’t like it.”

Max was silent for a moment, processing what he’d just heard. Her mother’s boyfriends? Son of a
bitch.

Anger swelled inside him, filling his mouth with a bitter taste. A vulnerable little girl, an irresponsible mother
…
Jesus Christ. What a wretched childhood she must have had.

“I think I understand,” he said, trying to keep the edge out of his voice, the fury. “I promise. I won’t call you that again.”

Running his splayed fingers through his hair, he said, “Look, you thirsty? There’s a machine just down the hall. How about a Coke?”

She nodded. “Yes, please. That would be good.” As he dropped coins into the machine, he turned the day over in his mind.

Evie couldn’t think of anyone who wanted her dead, let alone anybody who’d set a trap for her at the barn, then follow her into Seattle to take a shot at her. It just didn’t make sense.

Of course, it could have been Edmunds. He could have doubled back, waited for the right moment to catch Evie in the crosshairs. But why? And what about the Grovda woman? Was she simply waiting in the car, or had the butler already killed her? Knowing how Evie felt about Edmunds, he hadn’t
even suggested the possibility that the butler might be behind the attempts on her life. He’d just wait and see how everything played out. For now.

A bottle of soda rolled out of the dispenser, and he picked it up, letting his fingers wrap around the cold, damp plastic. As he walked back into the precinct lobby, he let his gaze brush over Evie, sitting with Lorna under the Most Wanted bulletin board.

Dammit. She’d come that close to being killed again today, only this time she’d been under his protection
—and he hadn’t seen it coming.
They’d been on a sidewalk in front of a tavern, in broad daylight, on a busy street across from a police station, yet somebody was waiting and took a crack at her. How ballsy was that?

Who in the hell was this guy, and why did he want her dead so badly he’d followed them to Seattle?

The only bullet they’d been able to recover had been dug out of the door frame. Hopefully, ballistics would tell them something. He just wasn’t sure what.

His attention fell to Evie’s lips, and he remembered how close he’d come to kissing her. She’d been daring him, and he’d almost done it.

For the second time since they met, their bodies had come into close contact. He was beginning to crave the feel of her against him, want more of it. They’d landed on the ground just like they would land in bed, and his body reacted in the only way it knew how—
with an automatic, masculine re
sponse, straight up, all systems go.

With her head cradled in his palms and the silken feel of her hair tantalizing his fingertips, it had been
all he could do to concentrate on the fact somebody was trying to gun them down. Then she’d looked up at him, her eyes shocked and confused, yet somehow trusting. It touched him in a way he’d hoped never to be touched by a woman again, and for one crazy moment he thought maybe she’d come into his life for a reason, that maybe the gods had granted him some kind of reprieve from his own anguish and stupidity.

But he was a jerk. He knew he was. He’d practiced the skill for years at the feet of the master. Just like his old man, he’d ended up hurting everyone he should have cherished, everyone who’d love him unconditionally. He’d already lost one good woman, driven her away. Evie deserved better than a man like him.

As he unscrewed the plastic cap on the Coke, he walked over and took a seat next to Evie and across from Nate, who was having a lot of trouble maintaining his cover, especially under the circumstances. However, judging from the look of rapture on Lorna’s face as Nate spoke, things hadn’t been shot to hell quite yet.

“
…
splintered wood screamed beneath the blast that laid the bodies in the gutter, low. And with that shot, another came, and another yet—”

“In passion and in pain,”
Max interjected dryly as he handed the soda to Evie. “Yeah, we know. Well, it ain’t the Iliad, but who knows, James. In another three thousand years
…
”

Ignoring his sarcasm, Nate turned to Lorna. “Did
you
like it?”

She beamed at him.
“Oh, Dabney. You’re simply…
amazing.”

Max slid his foot forward and tapped the toe of Evie’s shoe with the toe of his. Her head turned, her brows lifted, her gaze locked with his, and it was as though they’d done that simple move a thousand times before.

He’d done it without thinking, then realized it was a very “couple” thing to do. And here he’d just g
iven himself hell over her…

Instead of pulling back, he maintained the position. She could scoot away if she wanted. He’d let her decide. Yeah, that was the ticket.

But she didn’t scoot away. Instead, she took a long pull on her soda.

“So,” he said, sprawling back in his chair, sliding his leg along the side of hers. “Since there’s nothing left to do here, what do you say we either head back to the island or check into a motel? We could all use some R and R. Maybe give the clues more thought and—”

“I have an idea where Thomas might be directing us,” Evie interrupted. He felt the heat of her leg against his, and still she made no effort to pull away. “I’ve been sitting here thinking about those very clues
…
”

Max leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, pressing his thigh against hers, tormenting himself, yet unable to stop. “Good. Let’s hear it.”

Around them phones bleeped or buzzed or chimed, uniformed and plainclothes police officers talked with each other or took statements from civilians, but Max tuned all that out and concentrated wholly on what Evie was about to say.

“The villain in the story killed most often in
Seattle, but he lived in Tacoma,” she said. “We’ve already discussed the fact that, if you consider Thomas only had time to change the last clue, it’s probably at Mayhem. It would make sense, then, that he’s leading us back there, that he began the treasure hunt at its farthest point. Then, each clue brings the hunters closer to the island, and back home for the culmination. We began in Seattle, next would be Tacoma. That would leave four clues spread out between here and Heyworth Island. Of course,” she sighed, “I could be dead wrong.”

“No, no,” Max protested quickly. “I think you’re right. That way, he can have his grand finale on the island, at Mayhem Manor. A fitting end to his hunt.”

“But where in Tacoma?” Lorna said. “It’s a big city.”

“Look,” Nate interjected. “Tacoma’s only an hour from here, but it’s already nine-thirty. Maybe we could hit the road and talk about it on the way. Maybe check into a motel or something then go after the clue in the morning. I don’t know about you, but I’m beat.”

E
vie and Lorna in one motel room, Max and Dabney in another; somehow, they’d all gotten through the night in spite of the fact they would have had a lot more fun, and gotten even less sleep, if the room assignments had been switched.

It was close to seven in the morning when Evie and Lorna took a ta
ble in the busy coffee shop, an
ticipating that the men would join them soon. Just
as they sat down, the double glass doors opened and Max and Dabney walked in.

They’d all had to wear the same clothes as yesterday, yet as Max approached the table, Evie thought he managed to look like he’d just stepped out of a men’s clothiers. He and Dabney had obviously found someplace to buy razors, because they were both freshly shaved and looked clean and sexy, a fact that was apparently not lost on Lorna, if the little sigh she gave when she saw Dabney was any indication.

Evie casually perused her menu, but she couldn’t help notice that every waitress in the place, and half the women customers, had stopped whatever they were doing to gaze at the two men as they made their way to the table. She had to admit, it was an impressive sight. In blue jeans and jackets, a sexy guy with dark hair and a hunky blond with weak eyes seemed to have every female fantasy covered.

But neither Max nor Dabney appeared to notice their admiring fans. They made a beeline for her and Lorna, smiles on their faces, a trail of disappointed femmes in their wake.

The first words out of Evie’s mouth as the men joined them were, “I think I figured it out.”

Before Max could respond, the young waitress—beaming like she’d just won the lottery— materialized between the two men, coffeepot in one hand, menus in the other. Lorna’s elbow lightly nudged Evie’s arm.

Yeah, I know, thought Evie, trying not to roll her eyes. Women probably fell at their feet wherever they went.

After the waitress had gleefully poured coffee, taken their orders and departed, Max said, “Okay, Detective Randall. Let’s have it.” He grinned at her over the rim of his coffee mug, forcing Evie to try and remember what she’d been about to say.

She liked him. That was so nuts! She hadn’t wanted to like him—in fact, she’d been prepared to hate him—but he wasn’t at all what she’d expected, Yes, he could be arrogant and pushy and a bit on the alpha side, but there was something about the way he looked at her, something behind the cynicism and wariness in those hazel eyes, that she connected with. Maybe it
was because he cared so passion
ately about what he did, about being one of the good guys, or maybe it was something else.

Should she explore that possibility? she wondered. Probably not. Yet it was tempting
…
it was so tempting.

“Here’s the thing,” she said. “
I
started to analyze all the phrases in our clue and I remembered that, after the salesman killed one of the women, he rolled her body up in a rug and put it in his trunk. Later, he dumped her in the mud near a saltwater inlet where he went fishing every summer. Most of the locations in the story are pure fiction, but the inlet is real. Maybe we could start there.”

She wasn’t certain she’d interpreted the clue correctly, but she hadn’t been able to make heads or tails of Lorna and Nate’s clue at all, so it was either this or head back to the island to regroup.

They hurried through breakfast, then Dabney and Lorna excused themselves to go to the rest rooms.

“No matter what happens today,” Evie said to Max as he walked her to his car, “Tomorrow’s Tuesday, and I have an appointment. I’ll have to go back to Port Henry.”

“What if we find the third clue?” he said. “We’ll probably need your help to figure it out.”

“I’ll do what I can,” she argued, “but this is an appointment I made weeks ago and refuse to cancel. It’ll only take a few hours in the afternoon. Besides, I would expect the clues to get harder and take longer to analyze. Edmunds can’t be having an easy time of it. I called Mrs. Stanley first thing this morning, and nobody on the island has seen or heard from Edmunds or Madame Grovda since t
hey took off on Saturday night.
”