Adrienne Giordano Page 13

  “First stop is the corner of Beach Drive,” Billy said.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “That’s a park. I grew up in that area.”

  “Let’s go see.”

  Ten minutes later, Kristen turned onto Beach Drive, pulled to the curb and slid the car into park.

  “That’s a park.” Billy snapped a few photos with the camera he’d brought with him.

  Nice camera too. Zoom lens and all. It appeared the things Billy purchased were high-quality. He might not want the responsibility of owning a car or a house, but when he spent money, he did it well.

  He set the camera on his lap, checked his phone again. “Next stop is Relton Street. It’s gotta be close. It only took him five minutes to get there.”

  Kristen worked into traffic, thinking the steering on the sedan was too tight. And the seat with that seam digging into her? Extremely uncomfortable. It made the fat on her legs spread, and her stomach knotted at the humiliation of Billy seeing all that blubber.

  The seat on the Aston never caused this. Or did this car, this boring car, bring on the familiar ache of being a fat Amazon?

  “Whatever it is,” Billy said, “stop it.”

  “What?”

  “The look on your face. You’re thinking about something that’s making you sad. Stop.”

  Handsome and perceptive. A dangerous combination when it came to the man sitting beside her. “I’m not sad. You’re right though, I was thinking about something that’s not necessarily good for me.”

  He dropped his phone and it clattered against the camera on his lap. “It’s the car. This car is no good for you. Bad karma. You need to get rid of it.”

  You might be right.

  Squeezing the steering wheel, she focused on the road ahead. “Is that dumb? That a car does this to me?”

  “No. What’s dumb is keeping a car that does this to you. You could donate it and someone will love it and be grateful. Instead, you’re sitting here thinking something that I know—I know—will piss me off, and I’m not going there with you.”

  “Fat Amazon.”

  He threw his hands in the air. “I said I wasn’t going there and, yes, it pissed me off. If driving this car does that to you, I’ll drive it off a pier. Do yourself a favor and get rid of this crapper. Drive the smoking hot Aston and embrace the sexy, full-figured bombshell you are. Embrace the hotness.”

  Kristen made the right onto Relton and parked at the curb. With great and precise effort, she slid the boring-as-hell car into park, leaned over the console and kissed Billy so hard that her body expanded—just inflated—from the rush. The buttons on her blouse might bust with all this excitement.

  Billy didn’t complain. No, he pulled her closer, returning the kiss with just as much reckless abandon. But that would be typical for him, wouldn’t it? To jump right in. No hesitation. No second guessing. No thinking.

  Reluctantly, she retreated. “We’re here.”

  “Yes, we are.” He grinned and pointed to his crotch where his jeans had gotten snug. Hers wasn’t the only body expanding.

  Kristen bit her lip. “I mean the address.”

  He spun his head to look out the windshield, his focus immediately shifting back to the mission. “Coffee shop?”

  “Yes.”

  After retrieving his phone, he stared at the screen. “That explains why he was only here fifteen minutes. Okay. We’ll move on, but let’s take five and make out more. That was fun.”

  After days of convincing herself that Billy Tripp was too much like her sister, a troublemaker with a restless spirit, someone who couldn’t grow up and settle down, someone who would distract her from her responsibilities, she really couldn’t find a whole lot wrong with kissing him for five more minutes.

  Five minutes turned into ten, then twenty before she finally backed away and settled her head on his shoulder, breathing in that clean, fresh-air scent of him. She closed her eyes, enjoyed the quiet of the car, the stillness that she’d been lacking for so long.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Perfect.”

  “Good. Me too.”

  “I like the quiet time with you. It feels…right. Like this is where I should be at this moment.”

  “Go, Billy,” he cracked. When she tried to lift her head, he brought his hand to her face and rested it on her cheek to hold her in place. “What’s your rush? Let’s sit a minute.”

  Yep, he’s going to break my heart. “For a few minutes. Then we need to get moving.”

  Within five minutes, they were on the road again and Billy directed her to a BMW dealership around the block from the coffee shop.

  Kristen parked on the street. “You’re sure this is the address?”

  “That’s what it says.”

  “He drives a Beemer. Maybe it needed service.”

  “Maybe. He was here a few minutes and gone again. Man, he was busy today.”

  That didn’t bode well for the pile of work waiting for Kristen at the hotel. She sighed. “How many more stops do we need to make?”

  Billy checked his phone again. “Three more. Then he stays put for a while. According to this, he’s home now.”

  From the BMW dealership, they tracked Alex to an office building where he’d stayed thirty minutes, a dry cleaners and a residential street in the not-so nice part of town over the Venetian Causeway. She studied the neglected homes with bars on the doors and boarded windows. The whole place felt…wrong. God, people lived like this. People like Manny and his mother. It made Kristen sad and thankful all at the same time.

  “Sweet thing, it’s good we’re in the boring-as-hell car or we’d get carjacked.” He shook his head. “Alex was only here a couple of minutes. Does he have a drug problem? Scoring dope maybe?”

  Kristen shrugged. “It wouldn’t shock me. If he’s hanging with Jess, he likes to party.”

  Her phone rang and, within seconds, Billy’s went off. Something told her they’d be heading back to the hotel lickety-split.

  “It’s my assistant GM.”

  “I’ve got Dennis. Ruh-roh.” He punched the button. “What’s up?”

  “Hi, Kurt. What’s happening?” Kristen waited for Kurt to break whatever news he had.

  Another stolen car.

  She swung her head to Billy just as he said, “You are effing kidding me.”

  “Dammit,” Kristen said, talking on her own phone. “I’m on my way back.”

  She disconnected and shifted the car into gear. Billy was still talking to Dennis.

  “Right,” he said. “Check the video. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” He dropped the phone onto the console and grunted. “Fudging fantastic. So much for the signal jammer.”

  “A Jag this time,” Kristen said.

  “Yep. And now I’m pissed.”

  * * *

  Billy stepped into the security office and held the door for Kristen to lead the way. Dennis and two security guys stood reviewing footage with Wilson, the detective handling the thefts.

  “Gentlemen,” Kristen said. “Did the cameras catch it?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Dennis said.

  Billy nudged his way by Wilson—in yet another crappy suit—so he could get a look at the monitors on the wall. “Run the tape, please.”

  Within seconds, images flashed on the screens from three different angles and Billy’s gaze darted over all three. “These are cameras ten, eleven and twelve?”

  “Yes. Southeast end of the lot.”

  Different area than before. Shiznet. There went his blind spot theory. Either that or the beefhead thieves figured out that he’d found that hiccup in the security system. Which meant Kristen had a leak on her staff.

  “Does the car belong to an overnight guest?”

  “Yes,” Dennis said.

  Same method as last time. “The owner left the car and within a couple of minutes, a guy wearing a hoodie steps up and—boom—car is history.” Billy went back to monitori
ng the video. “Wait. Back it up for me, Dennis.”

  Kristen moved beside him. “What is it?”

  “Not sure yet.”

  From behind him, Billy heard Wilson sigh.

  “Ms. Dante, we have a download of the tapes. I need to speak with the owner of the vehicle again and then we’ll be all set. I’ll keep you updated.”

  M.H. turned to the good detective, shook his hand and walked him out. A minute later she came back to Billy.

  “What is it? I can see your mind working.”

  He held his finger up. “Stop the tape. Nope. Back it up a couple of seconds.” He stepped to the monitor right in front of him and pointed. “Right there. Dennis, can you drill down on this? Zoom as far as you can.”

  Billy’s vision blurred as the camera zoomed to the thief’s hand. He blinked. Son of a gun. “There you go, Ms. Dante.”

  Kristen inched forward, her nose nearly touching the monitor. “He has a key?”

  “Yep. My guess is, the signal jammer did its thing and they went to plan B.”

  “But where would they get a key?”

  Billy faced the security guys. “What do we know about this Jag? Was it valet parked?”

  “No,” Dennis said. “The owner parked it himself.”

  “And he’s an overnight guest?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about his keys? Did he say they were missing?”

  “No, he said he keeps them locked in the room safe when he’s not using them.”

  Kristen let out a breath. “Well, that’s good. At least we know an employee didn’t sneak into his room and copy his keys.”

  “Where is this guest from?”

  Dennis checked his notes. “Georgia. He’s here for two weeks. Checked in three days ago.”

  Kristen twisted her lips. “Could someone have swiped his keys from his jacket? Maybe he was in the restaurant or something?”

  “It’s a possibility,” Billy said. “Someone could have lifted the keys, used a portable key machine to make a copy and then slipped the keys back to him. The cops will get on that though. And, if that’s the case, good luck finding that person.”

  This was just pissing him off. These guys were walking onto the property and simply driving away with cars. Nothing to it. What was really screwing with Billy was dealing with the antenna issue and this copied car key thing. Forget about disabling the antitheft systems. These buckwheats were good.

  I’m missing something.

  “Okay,” he said. “Give me a download of these tapes.” He turned to Kristen. “Can I get all the information you have on the guests who have had cars stolen?”

  “Sure. We’ll go back to my office and I’ll print it for you. Why?”

  He stared back at the monitor and the thief holding that fudging car key. “I need to figure out what I’m missing. Can I use your conference room?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. I might be there awhile.”

  * * *

  Kristen wandered to the conference room to make sure Billy was still alive. The man had been locked away for two hours and, with his limited attention span, who knew what he’d gotten into.

  The door was slightly ajar and she stuck her head in. He sat in one of the executive chairs, his elbows propped on his knees, staring at the white board spanning the wall. She knocked to get his attention.

  “Can I come in?”

  He smiled and sat back. “It’s your building, sweet cheeks.”

  “True.”

  She walked to him, desperately trying to ignore his obvious appraisal. “You’re staring.”

  Still seated, he held one arm out to her and she slid into it. “Sorry. Sometimes I can’t help it. I like to look at you. Well, I’d like to do more than look, but you’ll yell at me for that too.”

  Maybe.

  She had to be crazy letting herself become enamored with a reckless player.

  To avoid his need to stare, she slid from his arm and moved behind the chair to examine the white board. Across the top he’d written the makes and models of what she assumed where the stolen vehicles. Below that were the owner’s names, permanent addresses and the dates the cars were stolen, as well as any that were valet parked. He’d also hung the guest folios she’d printed for him.

  “So, what do we have here?”

  “Not a clue.”

  She laughed.

  “I’ve been going over this since I came in here. I’ve compared all the video footage for each of the thefts. The only thing that’s consistent is the thief used the antennas or, in the case of the Jag, a key.

  “Is it the same guy?”

  “Sometimes. So far, it’s been the same guy on the Bentley, the Rover and the Jag. The others were a different guy.”

  “So only two?”

  “Doing the actual stealing. They might be partners. In order to steal the signal with the antenna you need another person to stand close to the car and capture the signal. The times of the thefts have been random. Some are afternoon, some are evening. These guys have serious balls.”

  “They’re confident.”

  “And I’m going to nail their asses.”

  “Music to my ears.”

  He spun his chair to face her and placed his hands on her hips before she could pivot away. A jittery tension shot up her arms as he moved his fingers along her hips in a gentle stroke. So reckless. And way too close. Plus, he was practically staring at her crotch. But oh, how she liked those hands on her. Still, she stiffened.

  Using one foot, he pushed his chair back and let go of her. At least he was learning her signals.

  “Well then,” she said. “Secret Service visit tomorrow. Am I ready?”

  “You’re ready. No problem there. I told Dennis to bring in extra guys for the parking lot while they’re here. We’ll temporarily shut the signal jammer down too. No sense risking getting caught with that sucker. Don’t be surprised if the Service is already checking you out, watching the regular day-to-day goings on.”

  “And am I ready for that?”

  He grinned. “Yep. Old Dennis and I had a long talk yesterday. You’re golden.”

  “Good.” She leaned back against the table, felt her hips spread and immediately stood tall. “I’ll be happy when they’re out of here and give my hotel the okay. This is a big event for us.”

  “You should be fine. Tonight, we have our dinner date and I get to see you in that dress.”

  Kristen eased out a breath. The last thing she wanted was to wear the dress. A vision of her huge boobs pouring over the neckline made her stomach turn.

  “And don’t forget the shoes. You promised me the shoes.”

  “What’s with you and the shoes? They’re high heels. So what?”

  “On you they’re more than high heels. On you, they tell the world that you may be tall, but you have no problem towering over a man. Most women your height would stick with low heels. You? You say fudge it and wear them. I love that about you. Crazy hot.”

  If he only knew. Ordinarily, she’d have been pleased with that assessment. The problem was, he couldn’t be further from the truth. She’d read somewhere that high heels made a woman look thinner. The heels, for her, had nothing to do with confidence, but a lack thereof.

  “You’ll get the heels and the dress, Billy. We’re eating at my house though. And I’m not picking you up. You’ll have to take a cab. I don’t want anyone here seeing me.”

  He tapped his fingers on his thighs. “You’re that uncomfortable about this?”

  “You know it, big guy. But I made the deal and I’ll stick to it. Plus, I’ll give you a good meal. Then we’re even. Got it?”

  He slapped his hands on his knees and stood. “Got it.”

  “I’m going home to get ready. See you at eight. Do you need anything?”

  He grinned. “I need you naked and in those heels.”

  “Dream on.” Laughing, she shook her head and her ponytail slid over one shoulder. Billy ran his fingers ov
er it and flipped it back.

  “Pretty hair, M.H.”

  “Why do you call me M.H.?”

  “That’s my nickname for you.”

  “And it stands for?”

  He leaned forward, brushed a kiss over her lips, and her already unstable nerves nearly bawled. Kissing Billy was always an adventure. Sometimes searing, sometimes—like now—with such gentleness it made her forget he’d eviscerate her.

  “Madame Hotness,” he said.

  With that, he stepped around her, backhanded her on the ass and marched out.

  Madame Hotness? The man definitely had a vision problem.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kristen stared at herself in her full-length bedroom mirror. She didn’t even have the heels on yet and wasn’t sure if they would make things better or worse. Then again, wearing this dress couldn’t get any worse. She hoped.

  Why had she agreed to this stupid deal? Could her boobs look any more like mounds of white whale flesh? “I mean, seriously. A halter dress?”

  Tears threatened and she slapped her hands over her eyes. Get it together. She took a breath, steadied herself and dragged her hands away to address herself in the mirror. “Now look, this is no big deal. It’s a dress. Sure, it’s a little tight and your hips are way too wide, but the side slit isn’t bad. You’re legs are good. It’s the rest that’s a problem. But you’re gonna rock this thing. Think positive.”

  Glancing back at herself, she tilted her chin up. “Your hair looks awesome. Focus on that. And the legs. The legs are good. And when you put those heels on, forget it. You’ll look great.” She pointed at herself in the mirror. “Believe it.”

  I so don’t believe it.

  But she couldn’t take the time to worry about it. She slipped into the stilettos Billy insisted on. “For God’s sake, these shoes don’t even match the dress.” She’d probably die of a stress-induced heart attack before it was over anyway and none of it would matter.