To Touch a Thief (An Everly Gray Novella) (12 page)

He whipped his sunglasses off, scanned the room, and spotted Everly with some woman having a cozy chat over coffee. His blood burned hot, exploded into rage. So much for the cool, proactive approach.

The dark-haired woman caught his gaze and her eyes narrowed. She spoke directly to Everly, but her words carried, hitting his ears, fueling his anger. “Well, damn. I wasn’t ready to add another civilian to this mess quite yet.”
 

The woman pushed her cup aside, stood, and faced him head-on. “I’m Detective Reese Bryant, Mr. Steele. Let’s talk.”
 

Parker leveled his gaze at the detective. “Drew tells me you’ve cut a deal with Jayne but that she’s still being held. I don’t like it. Detective Stephens is unavailable, and I find you sharing a cuppa with magic fingers here.”

Reese arched an eyebrow.
 

Everly chugged the rest of her latte, slid out of the booth, and pushed past Parker. “You’re being a jerk, Parker.” She dropped the empty cup in the trash with a whoosh of attitude, and stormed outside, the air around her bristling with redheaded indignation.
 

“I believe we should join Everly, Mr. Steele. This is no place for our conversation.”

Parker pushed through the door behind Bryant. Watching Everly’s pseudo tantrum was almost enough to curb his fury. She was so like Jayne in her ability to take control of a situation with nothing but insolence. He wanted Jayne back. His woman safe. No scars—emotional or physical.

Detective Bryant joined Everly, slipping her a corner-of-the-eye glance that clearly tossed Parker and his black mood into Everly’s hands. But her magic fingers weren’t going to work this time. He wanted Jayne out of jail. Now.

Everly whipped around to confront him, and then cupped his face in her hands. He felt the fight drain from her body, a visible shift in her stance and softening of her face.
 

“I know you love Jayne. Really. Love. Her. And I get that it’s making you crazy, but we need you to focus here. Jayne needs you to focus.”
 

Parker jerked away from her hands, escaping those damn fingers that could see into his soul.
 

She dragged in an audible breath and braced her hands on her hips. “I like you, Parker, and apparently childhood ties are binding, because I’m about to step into the steaming pile of mental manure that’s taken over your brain.”

His eyes narrowed, a cloud of indignation brewing in his gut.

She continued, apparently oblivious to the silent warning. “Detective Joe Stephens is your cousin, your aunt Mary Francis’s son. He was Joe Francis back when, but I’m guessing your Aunt Mary had a second marriage, and he took her new name.”

Poleaxed. The shock hit him head-on. Memories and emotions cut through his scattered plan of attack then fell into place with a resounding thud.
 

Everly nudged Detective Bryant. “First time I’ve ever seen someone’s thoughts conveyed so clearly without speech.” Then the women exchanged some kind of silent communication that set Parker’s back teeth on edge.
 

“Yeah,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “Second marriage. We rarely saw them, and I haven’t seen Joe since that summer you stayed with us, when your parents were in—”

“South America. Mom was working on a dig and my dad…I actually don’t know what he was doing, but it had to do with his job. Do you remember anything else about those weeks, Parker?”
 

“Hold up.” Bryant’s voice halted any further nostalgic problem solving. “Trouble at four o’clock.”

Detective Joe Stephens squealed his nondescript department ride to a stop not three feet from the trio.
 

Everly grabbed Parker’s arm, her fingernails leaving four half-moon marks on his skin. “Too soon to confront him. Don’t say anything. Find your inscrutable mask, and do not let it slip.”
 

Searching for control, Parker dug his heels into the ground hard enough to leave dents in the blacktop.
 

Stephens shot from his car, leaving the engine running, and studiously avoiding Parker. “Well, if it isn’t the elusive Ms. Gray. I believe we have a conversation to finish, preferably in my office.”
 

Everly shook her head, wrinkling her forehead into a semi-confused expression. The woman could use some lessons in inscrutable.
 

“I can’t imagine what we have to talk about, Detective Stephens. I thought we covered everything before my unfortunate panic attack.”
 

Parker blinked.
Everly? Panic attack? Not bloody likely.

“No, Ms. Gray, we didn’t cover everything.” He whirled on his heel, stomped to his car, leaned in, and pulled out a clipboard.
 

There was a picture attached. A photo of… “Is that me?” Everly’s voice held the uncomfortable screech of a cat in heat. She reached for the clipboard.
 

Stephens snatched it out of her hands, loosened the photo, and gingerly held it by the top edge—right in front of her face. Intimidation at its worst.
 

Parker snapped the photograph from Stephens’s fingers, the edge gritty against his skin. “You pulled this from the video feed at Steele Management.”

Stephens glared, then held out the clipboard—a silent command to return the photograph. “Looks like Ms. Gray knows more than she’s sayin’.”

Parker placed the picture under the clip, and gave it a tap with his index finger. “Be careful with your accusations, Detective.”
 

Everly closed her eyes, and blew out the mother of all sighs. “What exactly is it you’re trying to say, Detective Stephens?”

 
“It’s clear you had your hands all over Emir Tarik’s neck.” His lips smoothed into a slimy, smug smile.

“Hardly all over. I checked for a pulse.”

 
Parker shook his head. “Enough. Not another word, Everly, unless Drew is present.”
 

Stephens backed off. “Bring your attorney to my office, Ms. Gray. Sometime today would be good.” He tossed the clipboard on the passenger seat of his car, climbed in, and peeled out of the parking lot, the engine of his police-issue revving.
 

Everly grinned. “There’s way too much adolescent in that boy. Must be left over from when you beat him in every sport, Parker. Wonder why he’s so fixated on Tarik’s neck?”

Reese Bryant cleared her throat. “How about y’all meet me at the station? And plan for a long afternoon.”

Parker, Mitch and Everly gathered
around Jayne in the sitting area of her new digs. Soft jazz played from an iPod station, and they had made fast work of a platter of sandwiches and bowl of potato chips.

Jayne grinned at her support team. “Glad you all could make it to my first impromptu party here at Apex PD Central. It’s not your gourmet restaurant, but a world better than the holding cell.”

Parker stuffed the last bite of a ham on rye into his mouth and squeezed Jayne’s hand, the rough edge of his fingers a sharp contrast to her smooth skin. Odd. His fingers hadn’t caught against her skin last night. To the contrary, they’d slid over her curves, leaving him hot and hungry for more. He yanked his gaze from the shimmer of her shirt, the way it hugged her curves, to examine his hand.
 

Mitch licked the potato chip salt from his fingers. “I’m shocked as hell at this collaboration we’re doing with Reese Bryant, but damn glad. Four hours, Jayne, and you’ve traced the link between Tarik and the missing funds. Gotta be a record.”

“Both Reese and I are damn good at our work, and together we’re worthy of Mensa status,” Jayne said, lifting Parker’s hand and examining his fingertips. Her touch was cool against his fevered skin.

“Did you burn yourself, Parker? You’re skin is rough and red.”

 
Everly sat up straight, raised her hand, and waved. “Hey, I get some credit for giving you the key to his algorithm. Using that weird combination of letters from his mother’s name to create the numerical access code to his accounts bordered on sick. But still, if it weren’t for me, finding that piece of paper…well, anyway, I should get some credit.”

“You do,” Reese and Jayne said in unison, glancing at each other.
 

“Maybe we should give her a gold star.” Jayne reached across the table and drew a star on the paper sitting in front of Everly.

 
“Thanks, Jayne.”
 

Mitch nudged her with his elbow. “Get back on task, Sunshine. We still need to know how Tarik was connected to Joe Stephens. There has to be a money link of some kind there, and my gut says Stephens killed Tarik. Did your security team get anything from the tapes, Parker?”

Reese Bryant hustled into the room, a couple of liter bottles of soda in her arms. “Mine did. They’re briefing Chief Hayes right now. Stephens was manning the entrance to Steele Management, Inc. while your guests arrived for the fundraiser—” she put the bottles down and eyed each of them in turn— “dressed in a too-small uniform. Must have borrowed it. We’ll get him for this in spite of Everly lifting a key piece of evidence from his desk.” Her voice held a bite.

“I knew it. And it didn’t even take my ESP fingers to figure it out. Well, it sort of did. I caught a glimpse of it when we shook hands. Still, that puts him at the scene, and it’s admissible evidence, unlike the images flashing through my head.”

Reese nodded. “Right, and drumroll please. I have the autopsy report on Tarik. But before we talk about that, I need to get an official recording of the things we discussed about your family connection, Parker. Now, okay?”
 

“Sure.” He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs.
 

What the hell is wrong with you
?
This information is critical to prosecuting Stephens.

She clicked the recorder on, stating the time, his name, and the names of everyone else in the room, then pointed her finger at Parker, a signal to begin.
 

“Mary Francis Stephens, my aunt, was my mother’s younger sister. They weren’t close, but Aunt Mary married her high school sweetheart, and they had Joe a few months later.” Parker crumpled a napkin and rubbed at the sweat dampening his forehead.
 

 
“Mary and her husband worked at decent jobs, but spent more than they made. Then Aunt Mary was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s and has been hospitalized for years. My mother sent a monthly check to cover her expenses, and my accounting department has continued the practice since my mother’s death. I checked on that while you and Jayne were working on the computers. I’m embarrassed to say that, other than signing the document to continue the payment for her care, I haven’t thought about them since, oh, probably the summer Everly stayed with us.”

“Hold up.” Everly clapped her hands. “Could that be how Stephen got access to your accounts? Could he have traced the numbers on the checks or something?”

Parker scrubbed at the back of his neck, his hand coming away damp with sweat. “The payments were directly deposited into Aunt Mary’s account. Hot in here, isn’t it?”
 

Had his words slurred? Get a grip, old man, this isn’t the time to lose it.
 

Jayne and Reese exchanged a look. “Either of us could easily have traced the accounts and shifted funds,” Jayne said. “Not that we would, of course.”
 

A warm flush covered her cheeks.
 

Parker ran his finger over her skin. Soft. Inviting. “L-lovel-ly. B-black.”

His hand fell from her cheek, his arm heavy, but he couldn’t stop the weight from landing on her thigh.

 
“Parker!” The panic in Jayne’s voice faded into empty silence.

SIXTEEN

Everly Gray

I stared out of the
windows in the intensive care waiting room, the first streaks of daylight leaving ominous shadows on the ground. Exhaustion gnawed at my bones as I swallowed the dregs of cold, institutional coffee. Behind me, on the other side of a curtain-covered window, Jayne sat with Parker, using her ten-minutes-every-hour of visitation time. His prognosis wasn’t good.

Detective Stephens was in custody, and I expected a call from Reese Bryant any minute telling me they’d squeezed a confession from him.

The door to the waiting room creaked open, and the squish of sneaker soles sounded against the floor. It was Mitch. A lingering trace of his soap and shampoo wafted around me. Heat from his body warmed me as he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulled me tight against him, kissing the sensitive skin just behind my earlobe. I shivered, drinking in his familiar scent, an oasis of calm that was pure enough to chase away the medicinal hospital odor. “I love you, Mitchell Hunt.”

“Ditto, Sunshine. Did Jayne say if she’s uncovered any more info on the money trail?”

“Yes. She traced a trail from Stephens to Tarik. Near as we could figure, Tarik had been siphoning funds from Steele Management for some time, hacking into their database through his charitable contribution account. Apparently, he was a skilled cyberspace thief, and the FBI had been watching him for a while. The whole different-country issue complicated things.”