Page 16 of Sweet Talk (Buchanan-Renard 10)

  “A real lady-killer, huh?”

  Ronan laughed. “Funny thing is, he could be. I’d like it if he was the shooter,” he repeated. “I’d like it a lot. Put his tanned ass in prison.”

  Grayson tossed the football into an open file drawer and turned his computer off. “Olivia’s due to go back to work,” he said. “How much longer will there be a protection detail?”

  “I’m getting pushed now to end it,” Ronan said. “Another week, maybe, but the budget . . .”

  “I understand,” Grayson said. “I’ll take over and pay for it. I don’t want her to know that, though. I’ll hire some off-duty policemen I know and trust.” As he grabbed his coat and put it on, he added, “I’ll help out, too.”

  Ronan was searching for one of his gloves. He knelt on one knee and located it under the desk across from him where he’d tossed his coat. “For how long?” he asked.

  “Until we make an arrest.”

  Ronan followed Grayson outside. “That could take awhile. I look at the list and I ask myself, who doesn’t want to kill her?”

  * * *

  It had been two weeks since Olivia had seen Grayson. The last time they were together they had spent several passionate hours making love. Then nothing . . . not even a phone call to say, “Hello, how are you doing?”

  She knew she probably should have been furious with him, but she wasn’t. After the first time he’d kissed her, she hadn’t seen him or heard from him for two long months. It took a shooting to get him to remember her. Maybe this was going to be a long hiatus as well. Grayson was a busy man, she reminded herself, with a nine-year-old he was now raising—though she didn’t know if that was a temporary or a permanent situation—and his father, Edward Kincaid, was recovering from a massive heart attack.

  Emma had given her the details about his father’s condition. She said that the cardiac surgeon had called the heart attack the widow maker, and if Grayson’s father hadn’t gone to the emergency room when he’d first experienced symptoms, and if the cardiac surgeon hadn’t been right there to take over, Edward Kincaid wouldn’t have made it.

  Olivia understood why Grayson couldn’t take time for her. No, she wasn’t angry with him, but she was damned irritated. How long would a phone call take? Or even an e-mail or a text? No time at all. Exactly.

  It was Friday afternoon, and she was about to do a favor for a coworker so that he and his family could leave early to catch a flight to Miami for a long weekend. She had volunteered to drop off some papers, and she was looking forward to her errand. The company she was going to visit unannounced was called Nutrawonder Works, a vitamin distribution company. It was owned and operated by William Hood, who, according to the notes she’d been given, had raised suspicion that he’d been ripping off the government for several years. The IRS wanted to go through his records to prove it and also to find evidence that he had been ripping off his employees as well by falsely reporting contributions to their pension fund. The word bully was underlined in red on the report.

  Olivia didn’t plan to walk into Nutrawonder alone. She was going to take an armed IRS agent with her, but as it turned out, that wasn’t necessary. Just as she picked up the phone, Grayson walked in.

  She put the phone down and watched him walk toward her. Don’t stare, she told herself, yet she continued to do just that. Her mind scrambled for ways to get over her nervousness, and the advice she’d once been given before ascending a podium to speak in front of a crowd popped into her head: Think of him naked. She tried that trick, but a picture of his magnificent body appeared and had her suddenly feeling breathless and hot. Okay, that was a bad plan. Don’t think of him naked, she told herself.

  She could feel her cheeks getting warmer. She opened her desk drawer, took out her inhaler, and used it. God, how telling was that?

  Grayson stopped in front of her desk. “Are you ready to leave?” he asked casually. “I’ll drive you home.”

  She was still too rattled to come up with a witty and stinging reply. She nodded, then shook her head. “The policeman drove me here.”

  “I’ve sent him home. Another guard will be at your front door at ten tonight. Until then, you’ve got me.”

  No apology, no excuses, and not a hint of embarrassment or guilt. All right. If that was the way he wanted to play it, she’d go along. She could be just as aloof.

  “I have to make a stop before I go home. I need to drop off some papers.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “It’s not going to be a pleasant meeting. You might need your weapon.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  He was Mr. Cool, leaning against the desk looking relaxed and . . . mellow. Yes, that was the word to describe him: mellow. Her nerves were raw. She had worried and wondered about him for the last two weeks, but here he stood, calm and collected. Obviously, he hadn’t been thinking about her. She wanted to kick him and kiss him at the same time.

  She put the papers she was going to take to Nutrawonder in a legal envelope and sealed it. Then she got her purse out of the bottom drawer and started throwing personal items inside. Her cell phone went in first, then her indulgences: M&M’s, a protein bar she’d been carrying around for a couple of months but refused to eat because the last one tasted like sawdust, and a cold bottled water she’d just gotten out of the refrigerator.

  “You forgot your inhaler,” he said. “It’s in your middle drawer.”

  “No, I have one in my purse. I always keep an extra one here.”

  “You might want to check. I saw two in your drawer when you opened it.”

  He didn’t miss anything, did he? She might have two in her desk, but she always carried one with her . . . except today. She ended up emptying everything in her purse onto her desk and realized then that she had put the one she always carried with her in the drawer.

  “Oh . . . I didn’t realize . . . I don’t do that. Thanks for noticing.”

  What else had he noticed? How nervous she was? That was a given, she decided. She put the inhaler where it belonged and was ready to leave. Even while she was telling herself she didn’t care, she was wishing she’d taken the time this morning to put on something a little fancier. Her pale pink silk blouse, black pencil skirt, and black flats were so ordinary. She could at least have worn high heels or boots. What had she been thinking? That it was freezing outside, that’s what. Wearing high heels in this snow was asking for a broken ankle. And when she wore boots, her feet always got hot while she worked at her desk. Still, she should have put a little effort into her appearance. She hadn’t even bothered to put her hair up or curl it. The thick mass was down around her shoulders. She nervously pushed a strand away from her face as she walked toward him.

  He lifted her coat from the rack and held it out for her. “What happens when you forget it?”

  “My inhaler?”

  She put her coat on and turned toward him. Grayson took her scarf and wrapped it around her neck, gently lifting her hair out of the way. They stood inches apart.

  “Yes, your inhaler,” he said. “What happens when you forget it?”

  She stared into his eyes. “I get into trouble.”

  “Olivia?”

  She jumped. One of Mr. Thurman’s assistants, a sweet, older woman named Violet, stood in the hallway. “Mr. Thurman wanted me to tell you that the team is on their way to Nutrawonder and will wait in their cars until you give them the word.”

  “Thank you, Violet.”

  The assistant took a step closer to Olivia. She glanced at Grayson, smiled, and then said, “I hear Billy Hood is a nasty piece of goods, if you know what I mean. Would you like to borrow my pepper spray?”

  She smiled. “No thanks. I’ve got something better.” She tilted her head toward Grayson as she walked past Violet. “I’ve got him.”

  SIXTEEN

&nb

sp; Billy Hood was indeed a nasty piece of goods, though, after meeting him, Grayson had a few more succinct words to describe the bastard.

  Nutrawonder’s offices were located outside the city and just a mile off the interstate in a run-down industrial area. The building was old and in need of paint. The linoleum floors were cracked and split, and the desks of the employees were crammed together. It was around sixty degrees inside, and Grayson noticed that some of the men and women were wearing their coats as they worked at their computers.

  Hood’s office was upstairs. Unlike the sterile first floor, the second floor had been remodeled. There was a garish neon-blue carpet, new furniture, and dark paneled wood in the reception area. The temperature was much more pleasant.

  The woman sitting behind the desk was wearing enough makeup to spackle an entire wall. She had a fashion magazine open in front of her and was casually turning the pages with unnaturally long, curved, polished nails, completely ignoring Olivia and Grayson.

  “We close in five minutes,” she said, without looking up. “Besides, Mr. Hood isn’t available. He’s on the phone in his office, but he isn’t available to anyone. You’ll have to make an appointment. Mr. Hood doesn’t see anyone without an appointment.” She finally raised her head. “Do you want to leave your name or your card . . . or something?” she asked. She was staring at Grayson while she twirled a strand of hair in her fingers. “Or your phone number?”

  Olivia rolled her eyes. She glanced at Grayson to see how he was reacting to Miss Spackle. He didn’t seem affected. He was probably used to getting hit on, she supposed, and for some reason that irked her. She walked past the receptionist, opened the door to Hood’s office, and went in. The receptionist didn’t notice until Grayson followed Olivia.

  “Hey, Billy isn’t available,” she called out. “I mean Mr. Hood isn’t available.”

  Grayson stopped in the doorway. “You can go home now,” he told her as he was pulling the door closed.

  Hood was talking on his cell phone. Grayson spotted a suitcase behind the door.

  “Just make sure you bring your passport, Lorraine. I’ll meet you at the airport.” He looked up from his conversation and saw Olivia and Grayson standing there. “Hold on a second.” He pointed to the door. “I’m talking on the phone,” he snapped. “Get out of my office.” He looked at Olivia, lingering on her legs, and said, “I guess you could stay, darling.”

  Olivia shook her head. “I’m not your darling. Now get off the phone.”

  Hood was an unpleasant-looking man. There were deep wrinkles in his forehead and above his cheekbones. Olivia attributed them to scowling most of his life. His beady eyes were a little too close together and his jowls hung low like a bulldog’s. She knew he was married, and she wondered if his children looked like him—God forbid—or like their mother. She pushed the silly thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand.

  Hood ended the call and slipped the cell phone into his pocket.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  Olivia gave him a friendly smile. “Where are you going, Mr. Hood, if you don’t mind my curiosity? I noticed the suitcase, and I did happen to overhear you telling Lorraine not to forget her passport.”

  “California,” he answered. “Napa.”

  “Lorraine doesn’t have a driver’s license to show at the airport?” she asked in her most pleasant, noncombative voice.

  “Of course, she has a driver’s license.”

  She tilted her head and looked puzzled. “You are aware that California is still part of the United States.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to tell you where I’m going. Did you ever think of that? For all I know you could be . . .”

  “What?” Grayson asked.

  Olivia stood on one side of the desk, and Grayson was on the other, looming over him. Hood swiveled his neck and blurted, “Spies.”

  Olivia looked at Grayson with mock surprise. “Mr. Hood appears to be a little paranoid. Perhaps it’s because Lorraine isn’t his wife.”

  “Ah.”

  “My personal life is none of your business.”

  She nodded. “You’re right—” she said as she pulled the legal papers out of her envelope.

  She was about to tell him that his finances were definitely her business when he interrupted. “You’re working for my wife, aren’t you? You’re spying for her. How dare she not trust me.” He pointed to the door again, and just as Olivia was about to explain who she was and why she was there, he started cursing her. “Get out of my office, you blood-sucking bitch.” He added several more gross names before he took a breath.

  Olivia pretended to be both shocked and thrilled. Her hand flew to her throat, and she gasped. She sounded excited when she said, “I didn’t know we got to use dirty words, Mr. Hood. Let me have a turn.” She dropped the papers on his desk in front of him, placed her card with the bold IRS letters visible, leaned in, and said, “Prison.”

  Grayson listened to the conversation with great amusement. Olivia’s handling of Hood was truly impressive. He had seen many sides of her since they’d met. He knew she was loving and gentle. He had seen that side when they’d rescued Tyler from the drug dealers. He had witnessed her steely determination when she stood up to George. He definitely had seen her passionate side with her uninhibited lovemaking. And today, he was getting a glimpse at her wicked sense of humor, a side he thoroughly appreciated.

  Hood, on the other hand, wasn’t amused. “Go ahead. Do another audit. You won’t find anything. I’m still leaving on vacation. I’m going to—”

  “California?” she asked, helping him remember the lie he’d just told.

  “Yes, bitch, California.”

  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to put that trip off for a while.”

  He tried to grab her arm. Grayson put a death grip on his shoulder. “Don’t touch her unless you want to get hurt. You don’t want to get hurt, do you, Billy?”

  Hood glared at Grayson before turning to Olivia again. “Lorraine’s going to be pissed,” he muttered. “How long do I have to postpone my trip?”

  “Ten to twenty with good behavior would be my guess.”

  Olivia texted the leader of the audit team, but there wasn’t any need. They were already in the building.

  Since Grayson was watching Olivia, Hood made the mistake of assuming that he wasn’t paying any attention to him. He slowly reached into his desk drawer.

  Grayson slammed the drawer shut, and Hood howled in pain. His fingers were trapped, and Grayson wasn’t letting him pull them out.

  “Now, see, Billy,” Grayson said, his tone mild. “That has to hurt.”

  “You broke my fingers,” he screamed. “You broke my fingers.”

  Olivia was surprised by Grayson’s actions but didn’t comment. A moment later she understood the reason behind the brute force.

  “Let’s see what you keep in your drawer,” Grayson said.

  “That’s private property. You have no right . . .” He stopped protesting when Grayson produced a handgun. “I have no idea how that got there.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “It’s not loaded.”

  “Oh?” Grayson pointed the barrel at Hood. “Then if I pull the trigger . . .”

  “Don’t!” he shouted. “Okay, okay, it’s loaded. It’s for protection in case someone tries to rob me. I wasn’t going to shoot anyone. I’m telling you I didn’t even remember the gun was in my drawer.”

  Olivia and Grayson were through talking to him, but it took another twenty minutes before they were able to leave Nutrawonder. After refusing to cooperate, Hood was led out in handcuffs, shouting that he’d been set up and a lawyer would prove his innocence.

  Once Grayson and Olivia were back in the car, he asked, “Did you know the gun was there?”

&nb

sp; “I had a suspicion.”

  “Then you noticed him reaching for the drawer.”

  “No, I noticed you noticing him reaching for the drawer.”

  Olivia saw the muscle in his cheek flex as he clenched his jaw.

  “I wouldn’t have gone into the office alone,” she said. “There would have been at least one armed agent with me. When I’m alone, I’m more observant, and, yes, I know I should always be observant, so stop the scowl.”

  “You’re right. You should always be more observant. You take risks, Olivia. Dangerous risks.”

  “I beg to differ. I don’t normally go into situations like the one today. I was doing a favor for a colleague.”

  “Did he warn you about Hood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Damn it, Olivia, you need to be more careful.”

  “I was being careful.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Don’t take that tone with me.”

  “What tone?”

  “You’re snapping at me.”

  She looked disgruntled. For some reason her expression eased some of his anger away.

  “I care about you,” he said quietly.

  She didn’t acknowledge his statement for a long while, and Grayson didn’t pressure her. He had just parked the car when she whispered, “I care about you, too. If I didn’t care, I never would have . . .”

  “Let me touch you?”

  “I was going to say I never would have touched you.”

  She rushed to move the subject away from sex because, from the moment she’d seen him, she’d wanted to rip his clothes off and have wild, arrest-able sex.

  “Your job is more dangerous than mine,” she said. “I don’t have a bulletproof vest in the trunk of my car, and I don’t carry a gun.”

  “Do you worry about me?”

  She didn’t answer because they had just arrived at her apartment building. Grayson followed her upstairs. When he got a whiff of her perfume, he instantly reacted. Her scent had the power to drive him crazy. It was so damned sexy.

  He hung up her coat and then his. His suit jacket followed. Olivia went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to search for something she could munch on. She wasn’t really hungry yet; she was feeling the tension of having Grayson in her apartment again. She decided on a Jell-O cup. It had zero calories, and it would keep her hands and her mouth busy. She pulled out a spoon and turned around to finally answer him. She knew he wasn’t going to let it go.