Tempted by Fate (26 page)

“The method. He used a ninja star.” She swallowed back the image of her mother lying on the floor, the gleaming silver protruding out of her chest. “The same way my mother was killed.”

“Ninja stars aren’t exactly a common method for killing,” Morgan chimed in.

Willow frowned at her before facing Ramirez again. “He left it as a calling card for me. We’ve been circling around each other for over twenty years.”

“Why?” Ramirez asked.

“Frankly? I don’t know. He wants me. I assume to kill me, too, although I have no idea why, or who he is beyond a photo I have of him.” She pursed her lips. “
Had.
Your team would have that, too.”

“Hey, if you’re so interested in helping Will, why’d you sic your team on her? Seems like she’d bend over for you.” Morgan smirked. “I only meant that figuratively, of course.”

“I didn’t
sic
my team on her.” He looked at her. “My partner said there was an anonymous call.”

Willow nodded. “The Bad Man. We need to figure out who he is.”

Morgan threw her hands in the air. “Like we haven’t been trying for the past ten years. That man is a master of deception. The moment we get close, he slithers away again. As solid as my defenses against being hacked are”—she scowled—“
were,
he’s got an entire different scope at his disposal. If we had backing like that, I could work miracles, too. Money talks.”

Ramirez rubbed his cheek as he stared thoughtfully at Morgan. “You’re very knowledgeable about computers for an office manager.”

Morgan clamped her mouth shut, blinking owlishly. After a moment, she said, “I took an online course.”

Willow shook her head at Morgan and faced Ramirez. “You have an idea.”

He nodded. “I know someone who might be able to help.”

“Not a systems expert, right?” Morgan sniffed disdainfully. “If I couldn’t get past his firewalls, I can’t see anyone else being able to do it.”

“Not even the person who broke through yours?” Willow asked skeptically.

“The bastard.” She banged her fist on the desk and then shook a finger at Ramirez. “Is that who you’re talking about? Because that sucker better be careful when he walks down the street at night.”

A trace of humor lightened his expression. “No, Weinberg works for the force. I’d ask him for help if I could, but that would compromise him too much.”

“The force,” Morgan spat. “What a waste. What’s his first name? And you wouldn’t happen to know his Social, would you?”

“Morgan.” Willow shook her head, facing Ramirez. “What do you have in mind, Inspector?”

“I know someone who has backing, as Morgan says. And connections. I’ll call him and we’ll go from there.”

Morgan wrinkled her nose. “You make it sound so easy, but this dude isn’t going to just let us find him.”

“She’s right,” Willow said. “He’s been playing cat and mouse with me for over twenty years. He’s not going to let anything slip, unless he wants it to slip.”

“But you’re here, chasing him.” Ramirez paused, his
expression darkening. “Are you saying you knew he was luring you, and you still came?”

She shrugged. “As long as I know he’s trying to pull me, I can take precautions.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Ramirez faced off in front of her, legs braced, his jaw twitching with tension. “If everything you’ve told me is true, we’re dealing with a psychopath. What precautions can you take against a psychopath?”

“I’ve been careful.”

“So careful you’ve lost all your belongings and are one step away from serving a lifetime sentence for murder?”

So she hadn’t exactly handled everything perfectly.
He
was the one messing with her plans. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“Okay, I will.” He stepped in front of her and pulled her to standing so his angry face filled her vision. “This senselessly putting yourself in danger is stopping right now. From now on, you don’t do anything that stupidly jeopardizes your safety.”

“Uh-oh,” she heard Morgan mutter.

Ramirez, however, was oblivious to the peanut gallery. “I don’t think you realize the stakes here. I’m risking
everything
on a gut feeling that you’re telling the truth. So if there’s anything else you need to tell me, you better lay it on the table now.”

She pointed a finger in his face and raised her voice. “You’re risking everything because you wanted to get laid.”

“I’m risking everything because I’m falling in love with you.”

The shock of hearing him say he might love her paralyzed her. No one had said that to her since her mom. The temptation of giving in to it was overwhelming.

Somewhere in the back of her mind echoed the thought that this was it—this was as close as she’d ever get to true happiness. Because once he found out the things she’d done, he’d never want her.

As if sensing her withdrawal, he sighed and let her go. “I’ll call my contact.”

“Okay.” For some reason, she couldn’t look at him. She toed the wood floor, looking for something to say. “If only we still had the Bad Man’s photo.”

“I’ll check it out of property.”

“Don’t jeopardize yourself any further.” At one time, she wouldn’t have cared, but now the thought of him in trouble was oddly disturbing.

“Is there anything else you need to tell me? Anything that could help?”

She laughed mirthlessly.
How about that I’m an assassin and Guardian of ancient Chinese powers?
She looked at him, and her laughter was replaced by bone-deep sadness. “What else could there be?”

H
e’d told her he was falling in love with her.

Ramirez snorted as he strapped himself in the car.
Falling in love.
He wasn’t sure he had much further to fall.

He turned the key in the ignition and pulled away from the curb. He didn’t know how it happened. He’d gone from levelheaded to completely illogical, because there was no logic in aiding and abetting a suspect. He knew there was only one way this could end for him: badly. Yes, he trusted her, but he knew she was still hiding things from him. He’d learned early in his career that you couldn’t hide anything from your partner and expect to win the day.

Shaking his head, he went on autopilot to the station, slipped his headset onto his ear, and called someone who had more connections than God.

The man answered right away. “Prescott speaking.”

“Max, it’s Ramirez.”

“Ramirez.” Pause. “By the tone of your voice, this isn’t a social call for my wife.”

“No, I have a favor to ask.”

“It’s yours,” Max said without hesitation.

Ramirez couldn’t help but smile. “You don’t want to know what it is?”

“You wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. And after everything you’ve done for Carrie, I’d be an asshole if I didn’t help you.”

Ramirez had always admired Prescott. The man bucked all the stereotypes of someone born to extreme wealth and privilege. “I need help finding someone.”

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know.” He stopped at a red light, scowling into the distance.

“Where does he work? What does he do? Do you have a license plate number for him?”

Gritting his teeth, Ramirez shook his head. “I have nothing.”

“I hate to point this out, but if you can’t give me any information on him at all, it’ll be difficult to locate him.”

“I think I can get you a picture.”
Hopefully.

“That would work. Want to meet me at my place?”

“This evening. I’ll have a—” What was Willow? Lita called her
his woman.
She seemed like more, yet not even that at the same time. “I’ll have a friend with me.”

“Hmm.”

Max’s hum was loaded, but Ramirez didn’t bother trying to decipher what it meant. He had other things to worry about, like finding that picture of Willow’s Bad Man. “I’ll call when I’m on my way over.”

“See you.”

Rick hung up and pulled into one of the white zones in front of the police station. Locking his car, he walked
into the Hall of Justice. There was a short line of people waiting to get through the metal detector. He bypassed the line and flashed his badge.

The guard nodded at him. “Afternoon, Inspector.”

Focused, he returned the nod and went down the hall to the elevators. He waited an interminable period of time before one arrived. Pressing the button, he waited impatiently for the ancient car to take him down to the basement.

Normally, he’d use the QPRL database to look up the item number for the picture, fill out the requisite request slip, and check out the piece of evidence. But he didn’t want to chance running into Taylor—not with him so suspicious already. His partner would demand to know what the deal was with the photo, and Ramirez wasn’t ready to field those questions. So he was going directly to the source.

Ramirez entered the property room, straight back into the restricted police-only area behind the glass door to the right. He recognized the officer on duty. They’d crossed paths a number of times, the last being when the officer nearly destroyed a crime scene he’d stumbled on. “Jenkins, so this is where they’ve hidden you.”

When Jenkins grinned, he looked like Santa Claus, minus the long white beard. “Blew my knee out skiing. Getting old, Inspector. Should leave sports like that to you young fellows.”

More than likely he’d finally screwed up one too many times. Only burnouts and screwups ended up doing time in the property room.

“What can I do for you?” the officer asked. “You need access to evidence from a case you’re working on?”

“Yes. It’s a recently opened case, early this morning.” He leaned over the giant ledger sitting on the table and signed in. “I’ll need everything that was brought in.”

Jenkins’s eyes lit as he handed over a request slip. “Oh, you mean the one with all the lingerie.”

“Lingerie,” he repeated flatly as he wrote down the case number on the slip.

“Yeah. Oh, boy, did I have fun checking that stuff in.” He rubbed his hands together. “Wait here and I’ll go get it.”

Jenkins came back with a medium-sized box. He set it on the table and waved at it. “Have at it.”

Ramirez nodded. One by one, he extracted the tagged items and set them aside. Laptop. Printouts of information on the three victims. The dossier Willow had on him, which made his teeth clench. A knife with flecks of what looked like wood stuck to the blade.

Still, in his gut, he knew she wasn’t lying when she told him she hadn’t killed those men. He had no reason to trust her—he was absolutely positive she wasn’t being up-front with him about other things—but
that
he believed.

“I left the box with all the clothes in back.” Jenkins chuckled. “What a thrill that was. My job isn’t usually that fun.”

Ramirez leveled his gaze on him.

“I’ve never seen underwear like that.” Jenkins held his hands up like he was holding something by the edges. “Tiny froufrou stuff, like in those Frederick’s of Hollywood catalogues. I never knew women actually wore stuff like that. My old lady could outfit a schooner with the panties she wears.”

Ramirez clenched his jaw, trying not to think about the men in his unit handling Willow’s intimate things. He was going to buy her all new underwear.

“Crazy that she had a file on you, huh?” Jenkins nudged him with a wink. “But then, if she came after me wearing froufrou panties, I might be willing to let her take me down.”

The man didn’t know who he was insulting. He was flirting with a black eye. How could he possibly know that the Homicide inspector in charge of the investigation had fallen for the suspect? All the same, Ramirez gave him the flat look that always cowed people into cooperation, and it worked. Jenkins smiled uncomfortably and took a step back.

“Guess I’ll get back to tending the gate. Let me know if you need anything else, Inspector.”

“Thank you.” Ramirez waited until the man retreated to his magazine to pick up a picture.

Tattered like it’d been handled a lot, this one was of a man, most likely Willow’s Bad Man. He had dark hair, light eyes, and a medium build. He wore casual clothes—expensive casual clothes—punctuated by a Rolex crusted discreetly with diamonds. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes were cold, almost snakelike. There was something there that wasn’t to be trusted. He looked like he would eat his young for breakfast.