Winter's Fire (Welcome to Covendale #7) (8 page)

“Don’t be.” His gaze found hers and locked on, driving away the rest of her reservations. “You were doing your job, and I should’ve let you.”

“Yes, well…” She shivered and stared at the table, waiting for him to end the conversation with some trivial goodbye and leave. He didn’t. Finally, she said, “Is there something else you want, Mr. Rhodes?”

“Actually, there is.”

She had to be imagining the rasp in his voice. “What is it?”

“Please call me Adam.”

“Right,” she muttered, looking up at him. She was really going to regret this. “Would you like to sit down…Adam?”

“You don’t mind?”

“No, I suppose I don’t.”

He hesitated for a moment, and then slid into the booth across from her.

Before he could say anything else, the waitress who'd served her approached with a salad in one hand, a pad in the other. “Here you go,” she said, placing the salad in front of Winter. “Let me know if you need more dressing, okay? Hey, Adam. Get you anything?”

Adam smiled faintly. “Hey, Piper. I thought you quit this dump.”

“A few more weeks. We have a nice, long vacation planned, and when we get back...” The waitress trailed off, blushing, and smiled at Winter. “You know this guy?” she said. “My condolences if you do.”

“Well, I...uh...”

“This is Winter,” Adam said smoothly. “She's in town on business, and we're working together. Winter, this is Piper. She's engaged to an old friend of mine.”

“Hi, Winter. I
love
your name.”

She couldn't help smiling. “It's nice to meet you,” she said. “I love your name, too. Congratulations on your engagement.”

“Thank you.” Her blush returned for a moment. “That whole nervous bride thing is a myth, by the way,” she said. “He's jumpier than I am. Fussing over everything. I don't think the poor caterer's going to survive the wedding.”

Adam laughed. “I have to see this. Just can't picture Jonah Dawson being nervous about anything,” he said. “I'd love a cup of coffee. And tell Jonah I said hey?”

“Will do.”

The waitress left, and Winter flashed a skeptical smile. “Do you know everyone in this town?” she said.

“Well, not
everyone.
Just most of them.”

“I see.”

“It's not a big place.” He glanced at the bowl in front of her. “So, are you one of those salad girls?” he said.

“Excuse me?”

His answering laughter was insulting—until she realized he wasn't laughing
at
her. “You know,” he said. “Everybody goes out for dinner, and one girl always says, 'Oh, I'll just have a salad.' The salad girl.”

“Oh.” She didn't know, but it was probably one of those social norms she was hopeless at understanding. Was it good or bad to be the salad girl? “Well, I'm afraid that's not me,” she said. “I ordered a barbecue burger and onion rings, and I'm getting pie, too.”

Adam grinned. “You really are a fascinating woman,” he said. “Where are you going to put all that?”

“Do I have to answer?”

 “No. You don't.” His smile faltered, and his expression grew serious. “Look, Winter...we really got off on the wrong foot. I mean—you know. This time. So could we start over?”

“What do you mean?”

“Let's just pretend we haven't been at each other's throats the last few days,” he said. “Clean the slate. Act like we're colleagues who can get along and discuss things like adults, without letting—er, personal issues interfere.”

“All right,” she said. “We can try that.”

He smiled. “Good.”

“But before we get to business, there's something...kind of personal I want to say.”

Adam frowned. “Are you sure? We don't have to—”

“Not that,” she said quickly. And had she imagined the disappointment in his eyes? Probably. But this was more important, something she'd wanted to tell him even when she'd been furious with him. “I just wanted to say that I'm so sorry about Ben.”

He reeled a bit, shivered briefly. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I...still don't know what to think, what to
do.
It's like—well, it couldn't have really happened. I was there. I saw it, saw
him
, and I still don't believe it.”

Something told her now wasn't the time to offer a clinical definition of shock. “I didn't know him very well, but he was a good friend of a friend of mine. And that tells me he must've been a good man.” She faltered as fresh tears threatened. “In fact, I was supposed to meet him here tonight,” she said.

“Your friend?”

“No. I was meeting Ben.” She folded her hands together tightly. “I don't know why I came, really, after...the accident,” she said. “It just felt like the right thing to do.”

“You were going to meet Ben?” Adam said in a strange, hoarse tone. “Here, tonight?”

She looked at him, brow furrowing. “Yes. He asked me to.”

“At ten?”

Her heart gave a painful thump. “Yes,” she whispered. “Why?”

Adam shoved a hand in his pocket and came out with a folded scrap of paper. “He gave me this,” he said, handing it to her. “Last night at the party, just after you left.”

Suddenly worried, she unfolded the paper and read the few words scrawled on it:
Pete's Diner, 10 tomorrow night.
An involuntary gasp escaped her.

Ben had wanted to tell them both something important. Something secret—so secret that he hadn't even risked talking to them at the same time about meeting him here. And now he'd never be able to tell them. In that moment, any lingering suspicion she'd held toward Adam vanished.

And she knew there was a lot more at stake here than some misplaced funds.

* * * *

Adam had barely begun to process that Ben had asked her to the same secret meeting for whatever he wanted to tell them, when Piper returned with his coffee and the rest of Winter’s order. He managed to exchange pleasantries with the waitress, all the while thinking about Ben’s final request—to keep Winter safe. From “people” who’d do “a hell of a lot” to keep her from finding out…something.

It would’ve been real damned helpful if he’d been able to fill in a few details.

When they were alone, he looked at her and sighed. “All right. Now what do we do?”

“I have no idea.” She picked up her fork, shoved her salad around a bit, and then pushed the bowl aside. “This is definitely an onion ring problem,” she said, dragging the plate Piper had brought over to the center of the table. “Help yourself.”

“Oh, I like the way you think.” He grabbed one, but didn’t eat it yet. “Maybe this is what we should do,” he said. “Pool our resources. What did he say to you, exactly?”

She frowned. “Not much. Just that he knew what I was looking into, and he had information I was going to need.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes, and he asked me to meet him here,” she said. “He was very quiet about it, nervous. He seemed to think someone was listening.” Her mouth parted slightly. “Ethan Goddard was there, watching us. He didn’t look happy.”

“Christ. I thought he left.” Adam fell silent, considering Ethan—and how to tell Winter what Ben had said to him. “I didn’t hear a lot from him either, but he was serious about what he did say.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Ben asked me to watch out for you. He said what you’re investigating has been going on a long time, and he couldn’t stop it. And he thinks whoever’s behind it is out to get you.”

Winter blinked rapidly and stared at the table. “He was going to warn me,” she said. “Do you think he was right? Is someone…out to get me?”

His gut clenched. He remembered the urgency in Ben’s voice, the way he looked around to make sure no one was watching—and the chilling words he’d spoken.

Let’s just say there are people who’ll do a hell of a lot to keep her away.

“I believe him,” he finally said. “So I guess now the question is, what are we going to do about it?”

Winter gestured at the papers she’d moved aside when the food came. “I know someone in the fire department is inflating claims and siphoning off funds,” she said. “There are no mistakes here, at least not accidental ones. The numbers match perfectly—but they shouldn’t, because they’re wrong. I need the original files, the missing ones, to prove it.”

“Do you think it’s Ethan?”

“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “He does seem the most likely suspect. But again, that’s a problem.”

“Why?”

“Usually, people who commit this kind of fraud aren’t obvious about it,” she said. “They don’t boast or brag, or get hostile with the reviewer. They can be resentful, especially at first, but then they fall back and cooperate, play the game. Sometimes they’re even more concerned and helpful than the innocent subjects. Because they really don’t want to get caught.”

“You don’t know Ethan Goddard,” he said. “He’s the biggest blowhard on the planet. He’d brag about starting World War II, if he thought it’d make him look better than someone else.”

“Maybe. But I’m not ready to say it’s definitely him yet.”

“So we need those files.” Adam sighed sharply and leaned back in the booth. “We do have a computerized system at the station,” he said. “Chief doesn’t use it much, but everything would’ve been scanned in. Whoever took the paper files probably deleted those too, though.”

Winter sat forward, suddenly animated. “It doesn’t matter if they’ve been deleted,” she said. “If they were in the system, I can probably access them.”

“You can?”

“Yes, I have to retrieve electronic files all the time,” she said. “Everyone tries to delete them. But unless you really know what you’re doing, they’re still there.”

“I’ll be damned.”

“So that’s what we’ll do. First thing tomorrow.” She gave a hesitant smile and started gathering papers, placing them neatly in her briefcase. “I’ll head back to my room now,” she said. “We can get an early start.”

“Wait.” He really didn’t like the idea of a faceless someone out there stalking her, and the thought that it might be Ethan was even less appealing. “Maybe you shouldn’t be alone,” he said. “You could stay at my place.”

She stared at him, horrified.

“No, I don’t mean…” He sighed. “I’d sleep on the couch. I’m just saying, if there is someone after you, it might be safer.”

“Really, Mr. Rho—Adam,” she said. “Do you think this person is going to be waiting for me in some dark alley with a crowbar? It’s quite the leap from insurance fraud to assault, you know.”

“Maybe. But still, at least let me give you my number and address.” He couldn’t shake the feeling he’d had earlier at the accident scene, that it had something to do with Winter. “If anything happens, you can call. Or just come over. Okay?”

“I suppose.” With a skeptical frown, she pulled a phone from her pocket, tapped the screen a few times and handed it to him. As he entered the information, she said, “You’re probably overreacting again.”

“Yes. I’m good at that.” He tried to smile as he gave the phone back, but didn’t quite make it. “Thank you for talking to me,” he said. “And just…be careful. Please.”

“I will. Promise.”

Adam sat back with his coffee, watching her signal for Piper and ask for a box to take the rest of her food. Maybe he was overreacting. He was genuinely concerned, but she probably wasn’t in mortal danger.

Maybe he just wanted her to come to his place…because he wanted her.

But her wanting him was even less likely than a crowbar attack in an alley.

Chapter 9

The Whispering Rose Bed and Breakfast seemed almost sinister as Winter parked in the back and climbed out of the truck. Silence lay over the parking lot, and nothing at all moved.

At least there weren’t any dark alleys here.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath. Adam’s concern, and the invitation to stay at his place in case someone tried to attack, had apparently affected her more than she thought.

Or it could just be the idea of staying at his place.

She still wanted him. There was no denying it, much as she longed to. Of course, he obviously didn’t return the feeling—the comment about her frozen heart made that clear, even if he had apologized—and that just made it worse.

Slinging her briefcase strap over her shoulder, she headed for the private entrance to her room. The key was an actual metal one, not a plastic card like most hotel-type places used now. It was probably supposed to add to the charm. But right now, in the eerie silence of the parking lot, she just wanted to be safe in her room—charming touches optional.

She fumbled the key, actually dropping it before she managed to get the door unlocked. Her heart sped, and her breathing grew shallow. No amount of telling herself how silly this was eased the panic. At last, she stepped through and closed the door behind her, leaning against it to release a shuddering sigh. “Now stop this,” she said firmly, and turned to lock up.

That was when someone grabbed her from behind.

She drew a startled half-breath, and a gloved hand clamped over her mouth, pressing her against a firm body. “Don’t move, and I won’t hurt you.” A male voice in her ear, a rasping whisper she didn’t recognize, oddly muffled. The arm around her waist eased.

Her captive took the briefcase.

She jerked hard, arms waving, searching for part of him to grab. Attempting to get a glimpse at him. When she tried to twist away, the hand on her mouth pressed harder and squeezed—mashing her lips, digging under her cheek bones until tears formed in her eyes. “I said, don’t move,” the voice repeated. “Or I’ll shoot.”

A small, hard point jabbed into the small of her back. She stilled instantly.

“Your investigation is over,” the voice said. “You found nothing, and you’re going to leave town now. Do you understand? Nod if you do.”

She nodded.

“Good. Now, we’re going to back up and turn around.”

As her captor moved back, she stumbled along as best she could, highly aware of what was pressing into her. The door retreated. He pulled her around until she was facing the back of the room. “I’m moving my hand,” he said. “Not a word, Miss Solomon.”

She remained silent, only drawing a harsh breath when the hand came from her mouth. She could still feel the gun against her, taste the heavy canvas of the glove.