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Authors: Kate Collins

Shoots to Kill (34 page)

BOOK: Shoots to Kill
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“Maybe so, but you sent me the same message, Abby. You didn’t trust my judgment, either.”
“That’s because you were wrong.”
I heard the words come out of my mouth and had to laugh at myself. “Okay, we both goofed on this one, but if we want to get back that something special, we’ve got to do better next time.”
“What can I do to make it better right now?”
“Well, for one thing, don’t let me walk out of your office in a snit again. Come after me. Bar the door. Whatever it takes to show me you care. And if I should ever give you another ultimatum, just say the word
Libby
. That’ll snap me out of it. Also, a few more apologies and maybe a little groveling wouldn’t hurt. Oh, and one more thing—”
Marco cupped my face in his strong hands. “God, how I’ve missed you, Abby.”
Ah-h. Music to my ears.
He traced a line down my jaw to my chin and around my lips, then dipped his head to kiss me, his mouth sweet and seductive against mine. I closed my eyes, feeling the firm texture of his lips, breathing in his clean, lightly musky male scent.
“I was a stubborn ass,” he murmured, his lips moving to nibble my ear, “and I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry you were a stubborn ass, too,” I breathed on a sigh.
“We’ve got a lot of making up to do,” he whispered, sending tingles of pleasure through every nerve ending in my body.
“What did you have in mind?”
“Well,” he said, leaning back to gaze at me, “since you’ve had a rough day, how about that foot massage I promised you?”
Oh, baby, a foot massage.
Are you going to let him off the hook so easily?
that little voice of reason whispered in my ear, fighting against my urge to completely abandon myself to the pleasure of being in Marco’s arms again. But the voice was right. No way was Marco getting off with only a foot massage. I wasn’t a pushover.
“Excuse me, but I believe there was a bottle of wine and chocolate truffles in that offer?”
Marco grinned that quirky, adorable grin that made my heart flutter, then dipped his head to kiss me again. “That’s my Sunshine.”
Read on for an excerpt from the next
Flower Shop Mystery by Kate Collins
Evil in Carnations
Coming soon from Obsidian
“Isn’t there a law that says public hallways have to be lighted?” Marco complained. “This bulb was out last week. How are you supposed to find your key in the dark?”
I stopped rummaging through my duffel bag to whisper, “Keep your voice down. You’ll wake the neighbors.”
In a complete change of mood, my hunky, ex-Army Ranger boyfriend swept one side of my hair back to press hot kisses against my neck. “You didn’t seem to mind waking the neighbors yesterday.”
“I didn’t
know
those neigh—”
Oh, baby.
His kisses were sending tingles to erotic zones I didn’t even know existed—and I thought he’d found them all.
Where was the damn key? I really had to get a smaller bag.
“Why don’t we go back to my apartment,” Marco murmured in my ear, “and extend our trip another day?”
Now there was an offer that was hard to refuse. Who wouldn’t want to prolong a romantic weekend with a hot, handsome hunk like Marco Salvare? He was all man, all the time, a guy who was both tough
and
sensitive, who could cook up a mean omelet and take down a killer all in the same day.
After our seven-hour red-eye flight back to Indiana from Key West, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to putting in a long day at the flower shop—I don’t do well on only a few hours’ sleep. But as Bloomers’ owner, I couldn’t ignore my responsibilities, either. So, as much as it pained me, I had to decline.
Abandoning my key hunt, I wound my arms around his neck and gazed up into those sexy dark brown eyes. “I really,
really
wish I could, Marco, but you know how hectic Mondays are, and besides, Lottie and Grace are expecting me. But it’s a nice thought.” Almost too nice to let go.
“Yeah, I figured as much.”
Reluctantly, I released him to start rummaging again. “What time is it, anyway? Is it six o’clock yet? I still have to unpack, shower . . .”
Marco ran his hands over my shoulders and down my arms, his body close to mine, the seductive aroma of his spicy aftershave calling forth sweet memories of our weekend. “How about that?” he murmured in my ear. “I was planning to shower, too.”
My fingers closed around the key at last and I pressed it into his palm. “You know what they say? Two can shower cheaper than one.”
“I think we should test that theory right now.” He started to unlock the door, then paused. “Nikki will be asleep, right?”
“Déjà vu. You asked me that same question last Sunday night.”
“And the answer was?”
“Nikki’s depressed and dateless, remember? She’ll be sound asleep until noon.”
“
Sound
asleep . . . as in, nothing will wake her?”
“Except for smoke alarms.”
“Then we’ll have to be careful not to set them off.”
“Like we did Saturday night?”
“Like we did
twice
Saturday night.” Marco tilted my chin up and kissed me, a deep, hot, stirring kiss that made me glad there were no smoke alarms directly overhead.
Somehow he managed to unlock the door, back me inside, drag our bags in with his foot, close the door
and
lock it without breaking our kiss. I dropped my peacoat and purse on the floor and we began fumbling at each other’s clothing, still kissing hot and heavy.
All at once, someone pounded on the door, shouting, “New Chapel Police. Open up!”
With a gasp I jumped away from Marco. Our watch cat, Simon, who had just come around the corner to greet us, arched his back menacingly at the disturbance, then changed his mind and fled the scene, his claws skittering on the hallway tile. Some protector he was.
“What the hell?” Marco exclaimed, buttoning his shirt as he started for the door.
“I’ll bet it’s Reilly playing a joke,” I said, following him. “I wonder how he got into the building.”
Marco peered through the peep hole. “It’s not Reilly.” He opened the door, leaving the chain in place, so I ducked beneath his arm to peer through the crack.
Two men in blue uniform stood outside, neither of whom was our buddy Sergeant Sean Reilly. One appeared to be in his mid-thirties, about five years older than Marco. The other had a boyish build, a smooth, baby face, and a belligerent stance that young cops often adopted to make them seem experienced.
Instantly I stepped out of sight. Great. What had I done this time?
“What’s up?” Marco asked nonchalantly. Men in uniform didn’t intimidate him. He’d served on the New Chapel police force for about a year after his Army Ranger days—until all the rules and regulations, as well as a vindictive watch commander, got to him.
“We’re looking for Nikki Hiduke,” a deep voice said. I was guessing it was the older cop.
Nikki? That was novel. I was usually the one in trouble.
“What business do you have with Nikki?” Marco asked.
“Is she here or not?” a tenor voice demanded. The younger officer was clearly unwilling to divulge any info. He probably had no clue he was talking to an ex-cop.
“She might be here,” Marco replied coolly.
Just to be sure, I looked around and spotted Nikki’s keys on the table.
“Is it all right if we step inside?” the deep voice asked politely. “You might not want the neighbors in on this.”
Yikes. That didn’t sound good.
Marco unchained the door, pulled it open, and stepped back to allow them to enter, putting me in full view. Out in the hallway, Mr. Bodenhammer, the building superintendent, tried to get a peek inside before Marco shut the door. Now I knew how the police got in.
“How’s it going, Pete?” Marco said, obviously recognizing him from his time on the force.
“Business as usual. That’s why we’re here.”
“Are you Nikki?” the rookie asked me. He was definitely new in town, because only a stranger would see my bright red hair and freckles and not know who I was. Not that I was a celebrity or anything. More like the town’s trouble magnet.
“I’m Abby Knight,” I said. “Nikki’s my roommate.”
“You’re the florist, right?” the cop named Pete asked.
It was such a pleasure to hear myself labeled as something other than “the troublemaker who flunked out of law school” that I nodded eagerly. In a college town like mine, a flunk-out was the equivalent to being the village idiot.
“Yeah, I thought that was you.” To his partner he added, “She’s the one who keeps sticking her nose into police business.”
“Excuse me,” I said, taking exception to his snide remark. “I helped solve a few murder cases by sticking my nose into police business. And I’ll have you know that my dad was a sergeant on the police force before a drug dealer’s bullet put him out of commission.”
“Abby,” Marco said quietly, laying a hand on my arm as though he feared I might take a swing at the guy. Although I measured in at a mere five feet two inches, Marco knew that I knew how to throw a punch.
At that moment, Nikki came around the corner, sleepily rubbing her eyes, her spiked blond hair sticking up more than usual. She’d tied her purple robe tightly around her tall, slender body, and stuck her feet into giant dark purple slippers, making her long legs look like cocktail toothpicks capped by kalamata olives.
“What’s all the noise about?” she asked with a yawn.
Marco glanced around in surprise, then gave me a pointed look, obviously remembering my comment about the smoke alarms. Okay, so it was smoke alarms
and
police raids.
“Nikki Hiduke?” the younger cop tried again.
She squinted at him, unable to see anything but blurred shapes without her contacts. “Yes?”
He showed her his badge, which she had to bring up close to her face. “Would you get your coat and come with us to the police station, please? We have some questions we’d like to ask you.”
She looked from one to the other in confusion. “In my pajamas?”
I knew Nikki wasn’t completely awake or she would have asked a far more pertinent question, which is exactly what Marco did. “You want to tell us what this is about?” he said.
I stepped in front of Nikki in a valiant act of self-sacrifice. “And why does she have to go with you to answer questions? Why can’t you talk to her here?”
“We need to talk to her,” the rookie said immediately, thumbs hooked in his thick leather belt, “down at the
station.
”
“I got that part the first time,” I said. “But about what? She has the right to know.”
“I don’t hear
her
asking,” the rookie fired back. He was starting to get on my nerves.
“Nikki, ask them why they want to talk to you,” Marco instructed.
As she opened her mouth to speak, the rookie said, “She’s wanted for questioning in a homicide.”
At that, Nikki and I both opened our mouths, but only to gasp. Were they insinuating that my dearest friend had something to do with a murder? I turned and met her shocked stare, and she gave me a look that said,
I don’t have a clue what’s going on.
“Do you know a man by the name of Jonas Treat?” Pete asked her.
“Yes,” she answered.
“He was murdered during the night,” the rookie announced, looking very pleased with himself.
Nikki gasped again. The man’s name was unfamiliar to me, but she obviously knew him.
“How was he murdered?” Marco asked Pete.
“You know I can’t give you that information, Salvare,” Pete said. “You’re a civilian now.”
I quietly asked Nikki, “Is Jonas Treat the guy with the Ferrari from the speed-dating event?”
She gave me a quick nod, which left me wondering how she’d learned his last name, since no personal information was supposed to be given out.
“I told you that speed-dating thing was a bad idea,” Marco murmured in my ear.
“Nikki doesn’t need to go down to the station to answer your questions,” I told the cops. “She met this man only briefly last Thursday night at a social event. Tell them, Nikki.”
My roommate merely put a hand over her mouth, as if in shock.
“Nikki,” I urged, “tell them.”
“Yes,” said the younger cop, with a sly gleam in his eye, “and while you’re at it, tell us where you were last night.”
Bewildered, I glanced at her and noticed that her face had taken on an ashen hue, as though she might throw up. What was going on?
“Nikki, you don’t have to answer any questions,” Marco said quietly. “Just state that you want your lawyer present.”
“Were you with a man named Jonas Treat yesterday evening?” Pete asked anyway.
When she merely stared at them, I whispered, “What’s wrong with you? Tell them no.”
She hung her head. “I’m sorry, Abby.”
Sorry?
“Okay,” Pete said, stepping toward Nikki, “get your coat and let’s go.”
Suddenly I got it: Nikki
had
gone out with Jonas—in spite of my best efforts to warn her away from him. “Oh, Nikki, you didn’t!”
“I couldn’t help it, Abby. Jonas was—”
“Nikki,” Marco snapped, causing her to jump, “don’t say another word.”
She looked perplexed. “I was only going to say he was—”
Marco put up his hand to stop her. “
Anything
you say can be used against you. Abby is going to call Dave Hammond for you now and have him meet you at the station.” Marco turned toward Pete. “Is it okay if she puts on some decent clothes first?”
“And my c-contact lenses?” Nikki asked, visibly trembling.
The younger cop tapped the face of his watch. “We’ll give you five minutes. I’ll be right outside your door, so don’t even think about sneaking out a window.”
As if Nikki would ever do that. Now me, that was a different story.
BOOK: Shoots to Kill
4.29Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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