Deadly Sexy (13 page)

“Ah, here comes the commissioner now.”

JT slowly set down her flute, took a deep breath and turned around. Reese was standing next to the commissioner but his eyes were on her. Hers were on his too, and then, as if they both remembered where they were and who they couldn’t be, at least here, they caught themselves. Kyle led the commissioner’s party down to the seats. “Have you met JT Blake, Commissioner?”

She stood and Taylor McNair gave her a kind smile. “I have,” he said.

They shook hands. “How are you?” he asked.

“Just fine.” She turned to Reese. “Mr. Anthony. Nice to see you again.”

“Same here.”

Kyle said, “Game’s going to start in about five minutes, help yourselves to the buffet.”

Tay looked out over the stadium, “Think I’ll just stand here a minute and take it all in. First time I’ve seen your digs. Looks good.”

“We’re still working on getting it ready. In fact, Bo and his people will be in the box with us for the game because the visiting owner’s box isn’t finished yet.”

Glad to hear he’d get an up-close and personal look at Big Bo Wenzel, Reese left them all talking and went up to check out the food. He grabbed a plate but found himself checking out JT instead. She was wearing a white sleeveless dress that flowed to her ankles. The expensive-looking jeweled sandals on her feet showed off her freshly painted toes. She had her hair up, a style he’d never seen her wear before, and there was a pair of sunglasses pushed into the hair above her eyes. The makeup was perfect, as was the jewelry riding her ears and neck.

“Gorgeous, isn’t she?’

Kyle Miller was beside him. Reese had been so busy staring he hadn’t noticed the owner walk up. Some cop I am, he noted inwardly. “Yes, she is,” he replied, pretending to concentrate on which shrimp he wanted to put on his plate as opposed to the terrible rug on the man’s head.

“I keep asking her to marry me but she keeps saying no.”

Reese tensed but didn’t look up. “You never know with women.”

“I mean, it’s not like I can wow her with my money. She’s rich as Cleopatra herself.”

“That’s something.” Reese picked up a can of iced cola.

“You know what my greatest fear is?”

Reese’s greatest fear was that the rug on Miller’s head would suddenly start to move and scare everybody half to death, but he didn’t say that. Instead he looked his host in the eyes and asked, “What?”

“That all that beauty is going to wind up married to some bumpkin from the Midwest who’ll never understand what a priceless piece of art she is.”

“That would be a shame, wouldn’t it?” he responded earnestly. “Ah, there’s the whistle. Game’s started.”

He moved back down with the others. The commissioner was seated right behind JT, so he took the open seat by Tay’s side and sat down with a smile.

The first quarter was almost over when Kyle Miller’s second group of visitors arrived. Big Bo Wenzel, wearing the hat, boots, and string tie of a Texan, was accompanied by a perky breasted young blonde with big green eyes. The low-cut, short, white tank dress showed off her tan and her long legs. Bo greeted the commissioner with a smile and a shake and introduced his companion as Brandi.

McNair in turn introduced Wenzel and Brandi to Reese.

Wenzel said to Reese, “Heard you been trying to get on my calendar.”

“I have, but it’s nothing that can’t wait.”

“You going to be around L.A. next week?”

Reese nodded.

“Come see me Tuesday morning.”

“Will do.”

Then it was JT’s turn, and Reese was surprised to see a fond look come over her face when the grinning Wenzel said, “Well it if ain’t Lady B.”

“Hey, Bo.”

They shared a light hug.

“How are ya, girlfriend?”

“I’m doing fine.”

Bo then announced to everyone within earshot, “Don’t ever play poker or Madden with this lady, men. She’ll whup ya.”

JT dropped her head.

“Whup ya and leave ya naked and cold.”

They all laughed, then settled in to watch the second quarter.

There was six minutes left in the first half when JT got up to make a trip to the buffet. Bo was there, piling up his plate when she approached. He gave her a concerned look. “What is this about some bastard threatening you?” he asked quietly.

JT placed some shrimp on her plate. “You heard.”

He nodded. “Heard you called the FBI.”

“I did.”

“Anybody putting their hands on you is going to answer to me.”

“Thanks, Bo.”

“Damnedest thing I ever heard. That and you going into rehab. What the hell was that all about?”

So she told him, and about the computer virus.

He stopped. “Sounds like somebody’s gunning for you.”

“Sounds like it.”

“You packing?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Good girl.” His plate was now as full as it could stand. His eyes serious, he said to her, “If you need anything, call. Keep me posted.”

“Will do.”

Misha Wells rolled over in bed and reached blindly for the clock on the nightstand: 1:00
P.M.
She turned to go back to sleep but saw him standing in the middle of the bedroom, dressed in a crisp gray suit and making last-minute adjustments to his tie in the mirror on the wall.

She sat up, dragging the scarlet sheets up over her nakedness, and asked sleepily, “Where are you going?”

“Out to take care of some business.”

“What kind of business?”

“Not your concern, Mish.” He turned to her and asked, “How do I look?”

Propped against the headboard, she surveyed him. “Fine as always.”

“Good.”

Misha looked at the man she loved and said, “I want to get married, Bobby.”

“Let’s not talk about this now.”

“I mean it, Bobby. We’ve been together five years. I know you’re mad at JT, but let’s just leave and go someplace else and start over. You have your degree. I have mine. We can live anywhere in the world.”

“No,” he said emphatically. “Maybe after I bring her down we can talk about that, but right now? That bitch’s ass is mine.”

She shook head. “You’re going to get caught.”

“No, I’m not. Too smart for that.”

“She gave the letter to the FBI.”

“You told me that,” he told her, putting his wallet into his inside pocket and picking up his keys. Ready to leave now, he walked over and stood beside the bed. He looked down at her. “When this is over we can live in Tibet if you want, but I have to do this first.” He stroked her cheek softly. “Just a little longer baby, okay? Don’t start getting the shakes on me now.”

“I’m not getting the shakes, I just…” Her words trailed off.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “We’ll be man and wife real soon. I promise.”

He ran a finger over her dark lips. Lips he never would have kissed had he not needed her complicity and her tech skills. “After this is over, it’ll be just you and me.”

Misha didn’t believe him but gave him a reluctant smile.

“One more thing. I need you to find me a weapons expert. Someone who can build a small bomb.” He traced his finger down her cheek again.

She stared. “Why?”

“I want to scare her again, that’s all. Make her close her shop. Make her leave town.”

Misha knew this had to stop, and thought that maybe if she did this one last thing for him, he would. “What are you willing to pay?”

“Whatever it takes. Do this for me, and I will love you forever.”

She no longer believed that either. “I’ll see what I can find.”

“Good girl. I’ll be back late tonight.”

He gave her a wink and left the room.

After his departure, she sat propped up in the bed alone with her thoughts. They’d met as summer interns at JT’s agency five years ago. Bobby Garrett had been a fascinating mix of street and sophistication. She, the sheltered, twenty-year-old, nerd daughter of a British family with roots in Jamaica, had been immediately drawn to him, but his escalating obsession with JT was beginning to scare her. She’d been okay with the virus and with the letter, but now he was talking bombs, and she wanted out, but she wanted his love too.

Bobby drove away from her apartment with no intention of marrying Misha now or in the future. She was a pawn, and pawns were meant to be discarded. During their five-year hookup, she’d proven very valuable not only between his legs, but in keeping tabs on Blake, who according to Misha was bumping Reese Anthony, the man from the commissioner’s office. Sleeping with the enemy. He wondered if her players knew. Misha also told him that Blake wanted to finger him as the source of the virus but had no solid evidence. Yes, Misha had been valuable, but as soon as he had a clear shot at the queen, the pawn would be sacrificed.

At the stadium, he parked, and after flashing his league-issued VIP credentials, made his way to the sidelines where the visiting Grizzlies had set up camp. He threaded his way through the chaos of players, coaches, trainers, and camera people while the crowd in the stands roared in response to a late second quarter touchdown by the hometown Quake. He was looking for Matt Wenzel. He found him on the far end of the sidelines standing with other members of the team’s front office. Behind them a high school band in red uniforms lined up in preparation for the halftime show. Wenzel didn’t look happy to see him, but he didn’t care—they didn’t have to be lovers in order to move two hundred pounds of coke.

Keeping his eyes on the game, Matt asked, “What do you want, Garrett?”

“Just came by to say hello.”

“Bullshit.”

They watched linebackers D’Angelo Nelson and Jason Grant sack the Grizzlies quarterback Brian Jacobson behind the line of scrimmage, negating any chance for a Grizzlies field goal to tie up the score. “And don’t send any more of your friends to my home,” he added, turning cold eyes his way.

Bobby gave him a shark’s smile. “He just happened to be in the neighborhood. Thought you might like to meet the man watching over your wife. To keep her safe, of course.”

Hate flashed in Matt Wenzel’s eyes.

The ref whistled the end of the half, and the players on both sides headed to the locker rooms.

Bobby said, “We’re all set on my end. Where’s your old man?”

“Owner’s box with the commissioner.”

“Okay. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Go to hell, Garrett,” Matt said, and followed his team to the tunnel.

When the band marched onto the field, JT and the
others in Kyle Miller’s box stood to stretch their legs. She kept her manner casual as she met Reese’s eyes, when in reality her mind was filled with all the ways she wanted him to make love to her, preferably soon. Having him seated behind her during the first half of the game had made her so aware of his presence, she felt as if his fingers had been softly stroking the back of her neck the entire time. She couldn’t wait to get him alone. “Great first half,” she said.

Commissioner McNair nodded. “Your linebackers are killing Jacobson.”

She tossed back proudly, “They don’t call them Shock and Awe for nothing. Am I right, Kyle?”

Grinning, he toasted her with his half-filled champagne flute. “You’re always right, my lady, but let’s ask our distinguished guest what he thinks of our defense?”

Bo Wenzel smiled. “Just wait. We’ll get you in the second half. Jacobson may be young, but he’s good.”

On the heels of his boast, the blond Brandi looked up, confused. “You mean the game’s not over?”

Bo chuckled, “No, darlin’. There’s another two quarters to play.”

“What?” she asked in a stricken voice. “You didn’t say we were going to be here all afternoon.”

The others discreetly excused themselves to replenish their plates while Bo dealt with his pouting date.

Everyone had retaken their seats in anticipation of the beginning of the second half when Bobby Garrett strolled into the owner’s box. His history with JT was well known to Kyle Miller, so Kyle’s voice was frosty. “This is a private party, Garrett. What can I do for you?”

Bobby took a moment to glance at everyone, noting in particular Anthony, Wenzel, and JT, then said, “Heard the commissioner was here. Stopped by to pay my respects.”

McNair stood and shook his hand. “You’re Chambers’s new agent.”

“Yes. Hoping I can talk to you about his suspension. As men, I’m sure we can work out something less punitive.”

JT knew a dig when she heard one, and so did everyone else in attendance, and as if to reinforce the verbal put-down, he turned her way and asked, “How are you, Ms. Blake?”

She didn’t bother hiding her arctic reaction. “I’m fine, Bobby. You?”

“Can’t complain.” He then went back to the commissioner. “So, when can we meet? I can come to New York if that’s necessary.”

“We’ve nothing to discuss, Mr. Garrett.”

“I beg to differ, sir. I—”

“Are you a lawyer?” McNair asked plainly.

“No.”

“Then you might want to consult counsel. The agreement Mr. Chambers signed is binding and legal. Now, I’d like to get back to the game. Nice meeting you,” he offered politely, then settled back into his seat.

Reese could tell Garrett hadn’t cared for Tay’s rebuff any more than he himself had cared for the verbal swipe he’d taken at Jessi. When the fuming Garrett met his eyes, Reese’s face remained impassive, but his thoughts were not.

Big Bo hadn’t liked the swipe either, because he knew Garrett wasn’t half the man Lady Blake was. Insulting her in front of the commissioner hadn’t accomplished anything except show Garrett to be the arrogant bastard that he was. They were supposed to be meeting later on tonight, and he hoped Garrett had enough sense not to mention it.

Garrett met Wenzel’s eyes and nodded. “How are you, Mr. Wenzel?”

“Fine, Garrett.”

Garrett then turned cold eyes on Kyle Miller, who by his impatient stance was ready for him to leave. “You all enjoy the rest of the game, and my apologies for the interruption.” As he climbed the stairs to depart, he shot JT a nasty smile that nobody missed. She snarled silently in response.

Later that evening, Michael “Ham” Birmingham set a large Ziploc bag filled with coke on the table and tapped a spoon’s worth onto a small flat glass for the buyer to try. The brown-skinned woman wearing a red Cleopatra wig took her time with the test and taste of the glistening white powder. When she seemed satisfied, she looked at Ham and asked, “Did you bring it all?”

“Did you bring all the money?” he countered.

She beckoned one of the tall men flanking her and he set a black briefcase on the table in front of her. She opened it, then slowly spun it around so Ham could see the pile of fresh green bills stacked neatly inside.

Ham glanced over at Big Bo, who gave him an almost imperceptible nod of approval. Beside him stood a silent Bobby Garrett and two members of Ham’s crew. Everybody in the room was armed.

The exchange was made, and when the transaction was finalized, both parties left the shabby, pay-by-the-hour motel room and disappeared into the night.

“So, when are you flying out?” JT asked Reese as they lay sated in her bed. They’d celebrated the end of their days’-long separation with a blistering bout of lovemaking that they were just now recovering from.

“Early,” he told her. It was now midnight. “Seven-fifteen early.” He loved the feel of her long lean body pressed against his and brought her closer. He kissed the top of her very mussed hair. “Bryce called me. He found the virus maker.”

“Really?”

Reese proceeded to tell her about the underbellies and trolls and the kid in Seattle. When he was done, she said, “All that grief for a lousy four hundred bucks?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“I don’t know if I like knowing I was a cheap hit.”

He grinned. “If we find out Garrett’s behind this, do you want his head on a platter or a pike?”

“A pike so I can plant it on the Golden Gate. It’ll serve as a reminder to misogynists everywhere.”

“I admired your restraint today.”

“I wanted to shoot him. That smug smile he gave me at the end didn’t help.” She looked up. “Would you really chop off his head?”

“With the rustiest blade I can find.”

Smiling, she cuddled back against him, enjoying being held close enough to hear his heartbeat.

Reese thought back over the day. “I didn’t know you knew Bo Wenzel well enough for him to call you girlfriend.”

She chuckled. “Met him when the league started. We’ve had some arguments over contracts, but he’s mostly okay. Wouldn’t turn my back on him, though.”

“Why not?”

“He’s like a gator. Either likes you or eats you. Seems to like me, though, especially after I won his yacht two years ago playing Madden.”

“What?” he said, surprised.

“He bet it and lost it. I told him I didn’t want it, but he insisted. Said I’d won it fair and square.”

“Do you still have it?”

She shook her head. “Sold it the next day and sent the proceeds to the East Oakland Youth Development Center, a nonprofit run by a friend of mine. Got a real good price too.”

“You’re amazing.”

“That’s me.”

He slid a magical finger over one of her nipples, which bloomed to attention almost immediately. “You’re amazing in other ways too.”

He bent and took the nipple into his mouth, and she shimmered like the tea lights lit around the room,” You’re not so bad yourself,” she husked out.

And for the next few hours they dazzled each other with amazing things. Only after they were both too amazed to move did they whisper good night and drift off to sleep.

The following morning it was still dark when she drove him to the airport. The commissioner had flown back to New York after Sunday’s game, so Reese was heading back to L.A. alone. He had no idea how long he might be there, but unless Mendes and his detectives turned up something new, there’d be no mandated reason for him to remain in California once he was done interviewing Bo Wenzel. It was his hope that something would surface so he could stay until the threats against JT were laid to rest.

“You take care of yourself,” he told her softly, leaning over from the passenger seat, then kissing her good-bye. He ran a parting caress down her cheek. The last thing he wanted to do was to leave her.

“You too,” she said, not knowing why she always missed him when she’d never missed any other man before.

The whistle from the airport police blew shrilly, so a few seconds later he was out of the car and entering the terminal, and she was driving away.

Reese walked into Bo Wenzel’s office on Tuesday morning and found the big man waiting for him. “Come on in, Mr. Anthony.”

Reese took a seat. The large brown and gold space was far different from his son’s office next door. The wealth of antlered heads showcased on the walls and the stretched and cured animal skins draped over the furniture made the place feel like a hunter’s den. “Interesting office,” he said, looking around at the variety of horned trophies.

“Shot everything in here myself. You see Ursus out by the doors?”

Reese nodded. He’d passed the big mascot coming in.

“Three hundred and sixty pounds of raging bear. Took it down with a bow.”

“That’s something,” Reese admitted. Had to have taken a lot of guts to face a bear of that size with nothing more than a bow. The feat told Reese a great deal about the man.

Wenzel took a seat behind a large wooden desk. “So, how can I help you, Mr. Anthony?”

“Just trying to pull together my report to the commissioner on the Pennington murder.”

“Gus was a good man. Hope you catch the bastards that did it.”

“You know any reason why anyone else might have been in the office that night?”

“Nope. Place should’ve been empty but for Gus and his people. Like I told the police, I was in San Diego that night looking over some property.”

Reese looked at his notes. “Ah, I see that in the detective’s notes, but funny thing. I called every realtor in San Diego and not one of them remembers you.”

Wenzel stilled.

Reese waited.

Wenzel gave him a guilty smile. “Did I say San Diego? I meant Santa Barbara.”

“Ah.” Reese scribbled on his pad. “Can I have the realtor’s name?” He looked up.

“Sure. Have to dig it out of my car. Leave your number with my secretary and I’ll have her call you.”

Reese nodded. “Will do. Well, that should do it for me, Mr. Wenzel. Thanks for taking the time to see me.” He stood. “If you remember anything else that might help, give Captain Mendes a call.”

“Suppose you’re heading back to New York now that you’re done here.”

Reese shrugged. “Not sure. Are you going to be in town if I have any more questions?”

“I’m flying out with the team on Friday for the Dallas game. Be back on Monday.”

“Good to know. “Reese stuck out his hand. “Good luck to your team.”

They shook. Reese noted the tightness in the man’s grip and in his smile.

“Thanks,” Wenzel said.

As Reese drove away, he had to admit that Wenzel had handled being busted well. An inexperienced investigator might have missed the quick flash of alarm in Wenzel’s blue eyes when he told him about the realtors, but working the streets with junkies, hookers, and thieves had given Reese all the experience he needed. Wenzel had been scared.

In reality, he hadn’t made any calls at all, he’d simply been after a reaction, and got one that put Big Bo Wenzel on the radar. He’d be willing to bet the man hadn’t been in either San Diego or Santa Barbara. Did he know more about the death of Gus Pennington than he was saying? Maybe. It was still too early to tell, but one lie always led to another, so he phoned Mendes to see if they could widen the trail.

Big Bo was furious when Anthony left his office, so much so that he slammed his fist down on his desk with so much force it rattled the heads on the walls. “Dammit!”

His son Matt strolled in. He knew about the meeting with Anthony. The anger on his father’s face told him the interview hadn’t gone well. “Problems?”

Bo looked back at him like he wanted to tear him in half. “You were right. Anthony is going to be a problem.”

“What happened?”

Bo told him the story, and when he was done, Matt couldn’t enjoy the moment because he was in this mess up to his eyebrows too. “So he caught you in a lie. Great. Thought I was supposed to be the stupid one here.”

“Shut up. I’ll give him the number of a realtor I know who’ll say anything I tell her to say.”

“You think that’s going to satisfy him?”

Bo didn’t know. He hated acknowledging that even to himself, but he was going to play the game as if he still had the ball. There was too much at stake to do anything else. In hindsight, he should have challenged Anthony’s accusation and told him to call the realtors again, but with no name to offer to corroborate his alibi, that strategy would have blown up in his face as well. “At this point I can’t worry about Anthony. Ham has the deal set up in Dallas for Sunday night.”

Matt didn’t believe his father was still going to plow ahead. “No. We need to get out of this before we get in so deep that we can’t.”

“You just get the team ready to fly to Dallas. I’ll handle the rest.”

Matt’s lips thinned, but he did as he was told.

JT thought about Reese on and off all week. It came to her that she had no idea what he was doing on behalf of Commissioner McNair, but she decided it was probably best that she not know, since her involvement with him might well be a conflict of interest.

The telephone calls they shared every night, although wonderful, weren’t doing it for her. She wanted him close enough to touch, close enough to look into his eyes. As she lay in bed alone that night, she wondered if she was in love. She could say honestly that having never been in love, she knew nothing about the symptoms other than the ones she’d seen in movies or heard in the lyrics of songs, and she wasn’t sure she could trust those. What she knew for sure was that she looked forward to being with Reese no matter how short the time because, not once had he told her who she should be, how to act, or treat her as if she couldn’t handle her own affairs. He approved of the world she’d carved out for herself and wasn’t forever offering suggestions on how her stuff needed to be changed. Women liked men for various reasons, and she like being left alone. If she needed advice, she’d ask. Reese seemed to sense that in her and didn’t appear threatened by it. She was a tall, independent woman from Texas and always would be, but Lordy, she missed him.