Adrienne Giordano Page 9

  Billy shot him a look before going back to his phone. “She’s off limits. Beat it.”

  The guy moved an inch closer. Foolish, foolish boy. Billy straightened. “I’m doing you a large here. I could hurt you, but her boyfriend is certifiable. That guy will take you apart with his bare hands and use chunks of your body as shark bait. Now, beat it.” He went back to his phone. “Don’t make me say it again.”

  “Christ,” the guy said and stormed off.

  Izzy laughed. “Good thing Peter isn’t here.”

  Billy glanced at her and went back to Kristen’s message. “He hates when you do that staring thing. You’re asking for trouble.”

  “It usually works.”

  “Not here it doesn’t. From what I’m told, indiscriminate sex in South Beach is not unusual. You probably just gave that buttwipe an invitation. Listen, Kristen is looking for me. I have to step outside and call her. You gonna be okay?”

  Izzy waved him off. Being a Krav Maga expert, she’d kick anyone’s ass. Even he was a little afraid of her.

  The packed-in bodies on the terrace didn’t offer much wiggle room, but at least the eardrum shattering music had been contained to the interior. He breathed in ocean air and waited for Kristen to pick up. “Hi, it’s me.” He laughed at his own stupid joke.

  “The second Bentley is gone.”

  Any humor he’d been feeling plunged like a brick from a third story window. “Be right there.”

  Dammit.

  With more force than necessary, he jammed his phone into his pocket and headed back inside to shuttle Izzy to her room.

  When he reached the security office, he knocked once and stepped in. Kristen and two Dante security guards hovered around a monitor. Another guy in a cheap blue suit and tie stood behind them.

  Kristen waved Billy forward. “This is Detective Wilson.”

  He held his hand out and eyeballed Wilson. By the looks of that wrinkled suit, the guy was into the nineteenth hour of an eight-hour shift. “Billy Tripp.”

  Wilson nodded and a few strands of his dark hair fell onto his forehead.

  “Billy is doing a security review for us.” She turned to Billy. “The camera you fixed caught the thief’s hiding spot.”

  Yes.

  “Keith,” Kristen said, “will you rewind so Billy can see this?”

  Billy inched closer to the monitor as the thief, his head hidden under another hooded sweatshirt and a pair of baggy jeans that sagged at the ass got out of a late-model three series BMW. A good choice of vehicle. It would blend with the other cars, but not necessarily stand out. He strolled to the Bentley, got in and drove off.

  Voila. Boosted car.

  Wilson’s radio chirped and he paused to listen. “Ms. Dante, I have another call. Saturday night in Miami. I’ll need a download of this footage.”

  Ready for him, Keith held up a DVD and Wilson took it. “Thank you.”

  “Unfortunately, we’re getting good at this,” Kristen said, her voice soaked in fatigue.

  And oh, how Billy wanted to help rid her of those worries. In a variety of ways.

  Wilson hotfooted it and Billy slid into his spot behind Keith. “Play it back again on the wall monitor. Rewind a little more though. I want to see him before he gets out of his car. Then let me see camera one on the monitor beside it.”

  After watching the tape twice, Billy backhanded Keith on the arm. “Let me sit there.”

  “What is it?” This from M.H.

  “Not sure yet.”

  She crossed her arms and puckered those lush lips that he so wanted to nibble on. “Shall I wait? Or perhaps I’ll go back to running my hotel? Maybe try to find my two Bentleys and a Mercedes while you sit here keeping your thoughts to yourself?”

  Too damned cute.

  He fought the laugh, but couldn’t help himself. M.H. shot daggers. The look had him backing out of her reach and holding up his hands. “I shouldn’t have laughed. Sorry. I don’t know what I’m looking at. There’s something here. I’m not sure what it is yet.”

  “Can you tell me something? Anything?”

  He backed up another inch. “Not yet.”

  “Gah!”

  She spun on her wicked spiked heel and stormed out.

  “Man, she is pissed at you,” Keith said.

  Yeah, but it fudging destroys me. Not that he’d ever say that to one of her employees, but crimony, the boss lady had it going on. Too bad he had to piss her off though.

  The imaginary filter he was born without—the one that should have told him to shut the eff up instead of laughing at her—would have been nice to have. Shiznet. He’d beg forgiveness later. After years of practice, he’d gotten good at it. Why that fact suddenly bothered him, he wasn’t sure, but it pressed in, made his head ache. He shook it off and focused on the monitor in front of him.

  Don’t get distracted.

  Priority one would be determining how this gangbanger boosted the last standing Bentley.

  Keith’s radio chirped. Something about a smackdown in Paradiso. Billy wouldn’t mind checking out that action, but the footage in front of him beckoned.

  Keith grabbed his radio. “I gotta go.”

  “Right, Skippy. Do I click on these images to drill down?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Call me if you need help.”

  I could deal with kicking someone’s ass.

  “It’s My Life” came from his phone. Monk. Speaking of kicking someone’s ass. Unfortunately, that someone’s ass had to be Billy’s for abandoning Izzy. But hell, he’d walked her back to the room at least. “What’s up?”

  “Izzy told me there was another theft.” Monk’s voice held the raspy sound of sleep.

  “The other Bentley is in the wind.”

  “You need help?”

  “Nah. I’m checking out the security footage. Go back to bed, Gramps.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Billy grinned. “That’s how you thank me for chasing off some dickweed hitting on your girlfriend?”

  “You want a medal? I do it all the time. Comes with the territory.”

  “Yeah, but she’s not my girlfriend and I delivered for you.”

  “You always deliver. You may fuck it up on the way, but you always deliver.”

  Point there. “I’ll accept that. Go back to sleep and let me get through these tapes. I may want you to look at them tomorrow. Something is bugging me. Don’t know what. Not yet anyway.”

  * * *

  Kristen sat at her desk weeding through emails before she closed up for the night. Aside from the theft and a drunken brawl, there’d been no further uproars. She checked her clock. 12:30 a.m. Time for bed and to stop thinking about the insurance company freaking out over two lost Bentleys and a Mercedes.

  The hotel’s already outrageous premiums would skyrocket. And didn’t that thought send her stomach into a full spin.

  Her cell phone rang. She scooped it up and checked the ID.

  Billy.

  No, sir. She was still mad at him for laughing at her in her time of crisis. ADD aside, what sane person would do that?

  Exactly why getting involved with him would be a mistake. No matter how physically attractive she found him, no matter how much her body tingled every time he touched her, no matter how much he made her laugh, if she had any sense she’d exorcise him from her life. He’d drive her to madness before this was over. And Jess provided enough madness.

  Movement in the doorway caught her eye and she whipped toward it to find insano boy on his knees, holding his hands in prayer.

  Laughing would be the absolute worst thing she could do. It would only encourage him. Dealing with Jess all these years had taught her that. She rolled her lips in.

  “Go away. I’m mad at you.”

  “But I crawled all the way up here. The crazy-assed looks I got on the elevator? All for you.”

  She picked up a cork coaster one of the beverage vendors had left her. The thing wasn’t all that heavy, but th
e rubber base gave it some substance. Good enough. She hurled it at him. It connected with his forehead with a smacking sound and bounced off. Perfect shot.

  “Ow!”

  A second later he slumped to the floor, spread-eagle, and moaned. Such an idiot.

  “I think I have a concussion. It’s bad. Call 9-1-1.”

  “Stop it. Get up.”

  He moaned again and eased his head back and forth on the floor. Buzzing wisps of panic bubbled inside her. Could he not be faking? The thing was cork. How could it do major damage to that hard head?

  “Billy?”

  “Uhhhhh.”

  “Billy Tripp, if you’re screwing with me, I will kill you.”

  “Uhhhhh.”

  Maybe she should check. Holding her hair back with one hand, she bent over him. No blood or immediate bruising. “You look fine.”

  He stared up at her, his eyes shifting left and right. “Where are you?”

  “I’m right in front of you.”

  “I’m blind,” he yelled.

  “Knock it off. You’re scaring me.”

  Billy closed his eyes and reached his hands up as if trying to grab something he couldn’t see. “Don’t leave me alone.”

  She put her hand over her mouth to cover her smile. “I’m right here, dopey.”

  “Where?”

  She reached down, gave him a not so light pat on his cheek. “Here.”

  His eyes popped open. “I’m healed.”

  And with that, he hauled her on top of him and kissed her. Soft and warm and gentle in a light sweeping of his lips and—wow—he could kiss. A few seconds in, he pulled her closer, slipped his hand around the back of her head as the kiss escalated to something more. Harder. Insistent. Definitely enough for her to know what he wanted.

  Reluctantly, Kristen broke away and reminded herself she was mad at him. “You scared the crap out me.”

  “I’m still blind in one eye. You’ll have to kiss me again. Maybe it’ll restore my sight.”

  “Keep it up and I’ll really make you blind. If this is backing off, your technique needs work. You mauled me.”

  “My technique is great. It’s just not the technique you’re referring to. Besides, gotta admit, that kiss was a smoker. How about we deep-six this backing off thing? I really suck at it.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Not complaining, but a little cooperation from you on the next kiss would be nice.”

  Kristen levered off the floor and straightened her skirt. “I so hate you.”

  When his gaze locked with hers, all the heat from that kiss lingered, a connection she hadn’t felt in such a long time, and her body went loose. What would be so wrong with enjoying him for a little while? Aside from the fact that she’d have to get naked in front of him.

  He wrapped his hand around her ankle and squeezed. “I think you’re exaggerating.”

  Fire erupted inside her and she squeezed her fists, her fingernails biting into her palms to distract her. She could handle this. Handle him. “Why are you here?”

  Billy rolled to his feet and held up a DVD “Got something that’ll make you happy.” He batted his eyes. “It’s not me.”

  “Filter!”

  He made a pouty face. “Yeesh. Never mind.”

  “Don’t make me kill you. What’s on the DVD?”

  “Pop that baby in.”

  Kristen loaded the disc into her laptop and Billy huddled behind her. While waiting for the files to load, something tickled her neck and she scratched at it.

  Billy cleared his throat and she looked up at him. “There are water bottles in the fridge.”

  “I’m good.” He pointed to the screen. “Here we go. This is an image of our guy right before he nabs your Bentley.”

  Kristen tilted her head one way, then the other. All she saw was a guy in a hooded sweatshirt sitting in his car. “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

  “His hands.”

  She moved closer to the screen, scrunched her nose.

  “Kristen, you’ve got great hair.”

  “Focus. But thank you. I take a lot of pride in my hair.” Fat Amazons tend to do that. Hair she could control. “What is this guy holding?”

  He leaned over her, angling his body so he could point to the monitor and his torso brushed her shoulder. Close. Gloriously close.

  Would it be so bad? Just one night? To let go? If she were capable of one night, no, it wouldn’t be so bad. She imagined he’d be an attentive lover.

  He’d take his time.

  Savor it.

  That’s what she imagined, but how would she know? And she was too terrified to risk it. Never had she been capable of no-strings sex. Too body conscious, she supposed, to give in to lust’s temptation.

  And Billy Tripp would be no exception. Not unless he intended to hang around awhile. Which he didn’t.

  “This, sweet thing, is an antenna. I think.”

  “Antenna? What the heck for?”

  “I’ve got a call into our tech geek at work, but I think our bad boy here is using that antenna to transmit the encrypted code from the car. Basically, he’s grabbing the signal that tells the car it’s safe to unlock the doors.”

  She leaned right and looked up at him. “Really.”

  “I’m thinking. What I don’t know is how the antenna communicates with the car to pick up the signal.”

  “And how does he start the car?”

  “Still working on that.”

  “Do you still think one of my employees is involved?”

  Billy shrugged. “It’s possible. In addition to the antenna unlocking the door, I think the thief would still need a cut key that fits the ignition. I’m hoping Gizmo will know something, but this at least tells us how the guy is getting into the cars.”

  “How do we stop it?”

  Billy groaned.

  “Oh, I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “Signal jammer. We’ve used them on ops to block cell phone signals. There’s one that would kick ass in your lot and garage. “

  Perfect. Kristen nodded. “I’ll try it. Where do I get one?”

  “Hold up, missy. I can get you one, but it’s illegal to jam a signal in the U.S. If you get caught, you’re looking at a hefty fine from the FCC. And it might extend beyond the parking areas. Could be a problem for cell phones in certain areas of the hotel. You up for the risk?”

  She thought about the United States Senator who’d rented half the hotel for his daughter’s impending wedding. “Ew.”

  Billy laughed. “Exactly.”

  Still, if these thefts continued, Dante’s reputation as a world-class hotel would suffer. “Would you do it?”

  “I’d be all over that action. Protecting your property is a good enough excuse for me. That’s me though.”

  True. A fine from the FCC would be no fun. “I need to think about it. Maybe talk to my dad. What else can I do?”

  “Besides causing traffic pandemonium by assigning guards to check the paperwork of all cars leaving the lot, not much. The only thing suspicious about this guy is that he’s dressed like a gangbanger. Otherwise, he opened the door like he owned it. I’d definitely put a guard near that spot so the thief knows his shit is busted.”

  “I’ve already done that. Someone is out there now and will be 24-7.”

  “It’s a start, but if I’m right about this antenna thing, cars can be swiped from anywhere on the property. You’d better keep parking your spiffy ride at the entrance.”

  “You can count on that. Should I phone the police tomorrow and let them know about this antenna thing.”

  Billy shrugged. “I wouldn’t until you decide if you’re using the jammer or not. Maybe Gizmo will have the 4-1-1 on how the antenna works.”

  “Good point. I’ll talk to my dad first. I hate secrets though.”

  “Yeah, but you hate your hotel being violated more. Pick your poison.”

  Chapter Eight

  By lunchtime Sunday, with the sun shining and Bob Marley comi
ng through the speakers, Billy dropped into a chair at the poolside café while Monk and Izzy debated whether to split a grouper sandwich.

  “I want a salad,” Iz said.

  “Yeah, blah, blah.” Billy turned to Monk. “You have grouper, she has salad and you share. I gotta talk to you about these car thefts.”

  Monk nodded. “Did Gizmo call you back?”

  “Yeah. More on that in a minute. I gotta fill you in.” Monk would go apeshit over the shed incident. An ear-shattering lecture would most likely ensue. Exactly why Billy hadn’t admitted it to him yet, but it was time to come clean.

  “What?”

  Here goes. “I had a visitor yesterday. Three in fact.”

  Monk gave up on the menu and stared at him. “What happened?”

  “Billy?” Izzy said. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Three beefheads cornered me in the storage shed near the parking lot.”

  Monk shook his head. “Goddammit.”

  “Take it easy. The short of it is they offered me two hundred and fifty grand to conveniently forget about any stolen cars.”

  “You rattled someone’s cage.”

  “Apparently. And it’s got to be a frickin’ huge cage. They came at me head-on. No fear.”

  Izzy gasped.

  Billy waved his hand. “It’s fine.”

  “Not really,” Monk said.

  “Listen, Mr. Negative, this stays between us. Kristen will freak if she finds out. Anyway, one of the guys sounded like he was from the Middle East. And he said ‘khalas.’ To make it more interesting, that dickweed Alex, the one Jess Dante is dating? He said ‘khalas’ to me the other day. Pretty damned coincidental, right?”

  Monk jerked one shoulder.

  “Forget it. I’ll look into old Alex more. Those boys yesterday were testing me. They know I’m on to something and from what Gizmo told me, this antenna thing might be part of it. He says the antenna has to be within a certain range to the key.”

  “How big of a range?”

  “His guess? Maybe twenty-five feet.”

  “Where was the key then?”

  “I checked on that. A guest needed a lift last night. The driver returned to the hotel just before eleven.”

  Izzy leaned forward. “The guy was waiting for the driver to return and when he did, the thief used the antenna to steal the signal from the key.” She turned to Monk. “I see this kind of genius all the time when I defend people. If only they used it legitimately.”