EMBELLISHED TO DEATH (7 page)

“Faith Hunter can be murderer and a liar at the same time. She's done it before.” Morgan sneered.

Stress and fear pushed in on me, but instead of tears I laughed. It started out as a small bubble of merriment and then grew into a fit of giggles.

Morgan slammed his hand onto the button for the fourth floor, the highest number for the building. It would be vacant. The elevator chugged up.

The humor rolling through me evaporated as quickly as it arrived.

“Think I'm playing a game all you want. It'll make it easier for me.”

The elevator jerked to a halt. The sudden stop threw me off balance. I tumbled into Morgan's arms.

He cupped the back of my neck and forced me to look into his eyes. “I know you're involved in this up to your pretty neck. Maybe that hit-and-run was an accident for the woman lying in the hospital, but was meant to be a deliberate action against you. Even the score for all of the lives you've taken.”

I struggled against his grip.

He roamed his hand from my neck, down my back and then withdrew his touch when the doors slid open. “I think you should tell Steve your secret. Maybe the killer will be satisfied with Steve sacrificing himself for you. Wouldn't be the first time you let a man take the fall.” Morgan stepped out in the hallway.

“You're a creep.” I slammed my palm onto the elevator keypad. The doors closed. The accident played through my mind.

If it wasn't for Steve, I'd be the one injured in the hospital right now—or dead. My legs trembled. I leaned against the back of the elevator. Somehow, I remained standing as the elevator made its way down one floor.

I drew in deep breaths and started designing layouts in my head. I needed something to focus on besides Morgan's words. What kind of Federal agent threatened a woman? If he suspected someone was after me, why wasn't he trying to protect me rather than bullying me into a confession?

Because he's a liar.
The thought drifted into my head. What proof did I have that Morgan was who he said he was?

The elevator jolted to a stop. My heart hammered. I grabbed the strap of my purse and Steve's bag and hoisted them onto my shoulder. If Steve noticed something off in my behavior and expression, I'd blame carrying the weight of these bags from the truck as my troubles rather than the possibility of being on a hit list.

Drawing in deep breaths, I settled my emotions and slowly opened the door. Steve was sleeping on the bed closest to the window. I deposited the bags in the open closet area and tiptoed my way to Steve. He was lying on his side, facing the window. His body moved with each soft breath.

I didn't want to wake him, but also knew I needed to make sure he'd respond to an attempt at being woken up. Not wanting to startle him, I made slow and steady movements. I placed one knee on the mattress, braced my hands on the bed, and leaned over to peer into his face.

He opened one eye and smiled at me. “Hi. How's the setup going?”

“Good.” I sat on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Restless.” He flipped over, facing me. He frowned, running a finger under my chin. “What's wrong?”

“Worried about you.” I smiled, hoping my smile stopped any further questions. Now wasn't the time to dump anything on Steve.

“That's all?” Steve sat up. “It looks like there's a little more to it than me.”

“How come I can't be worried about you?”

“Because you can see that I'm fine.” He wrapped his arms around me.

I leaned into the embrace, drawing every ounce of comfort and love out of Steve. I needed to feel protected right now. I needed to know how much Steve loved me just in case the worst possible thing happened—he dumped me once he learned about my past and proved my insecurities right.

“It's just been a rough day.” Tears pricked my lashes. “I'd been envisioning a nice weekend. So far you've been injured, some woman got killed, and there's one fiasco after another in the crop room. And you were injured.”

“You said that already.”

“It needed a repeat.” I shuddered. “My heart broke when you didn't move.”

Steve tipped up my chin. “I'm fine. You'll do fine. I know you've been putting a lot of pressure on yourself about this weekend. This will not break the confidence your grandmothers have in you. They know these retreats can be hit or miss when it comes to sales. And I'll repeat that I'm fine.”

Tell him the truth.
My heartbeat picked up. I swallowed and stared into the eyes of the man I loved. Could I be brave enough to tell him about Adam?

“You don't believe me?” Wickedness lit his deep brown eyes. “Maybe a little show and tell?”

“I am still kind of doubtful that you're okay.” I inched closer.

“Are you?” Steve stared at my mouth, gaze smoldering.

“I think some show is required.” I placed my hands on his shoulders.

“Absolutely.” His arms wound around me, drawing me against his chest.

I linked my arms around his neck, tilted my head back, and looked into his handsome face. “Not sure I'm convinced yet.”

Steve lowered his lips to mine. The kiss started light and teasing, moved to searching, then shifted into wanton and heated. The intensity shook me to my core. I clung to Steve's shoulders. I shifted, increasing the pressure of the kiss. Steve pulled me tighter against him. His hands roamed from the small of my back, up my spine, and back down again. I drew as close to his body as humanly possible.

Heat worked itself through me. I didn't care about being proper. I didn't care what anyone would think. All I knew was I didn't want the kiss, or moment, to end.

One of Steve's hands wound through my hair, the other roamed down to my hip and toward my backside. I moved my hand from his shoulder to his waist where it yearned to snake up his stomach to his chest. My whole body vibrated.

Steve groaned and moved his mouth from mine. “Faith...”

I placed my hand on his cheek, trying to redirect his mouth back to mine. “Don't stop.”

“Someone...”

I wanted the man to shut up and continue kissing me. “Please.” I planted small kisses on his cheek and near the corner of his mouth.

“Your behind is ringing.”

The vibration wasn't only from my reaction to our kiss. Someone was calling me. Ugh! I leaned back and drew in deep breaths. Steve clambered from the bed, choosing to sit on the chair near the window. I retrieved my phone.

“Hello.”

“It's Lydia. Your friend gave me your phone number. Have you seen Marsha? She's not in her room or in the crop area. I'm worried about her.”

“No. I'm sure she's okay.”

“I could use your help in finding her. You're the only one I can ask.”

“There are not too many places she could've gone. Have you checked the fitness room or pool?”

“Marsha does find swimming relaxing. I'll try there. Can you try the bar?”

I glanced over at Steve. He motioned for me to go ahead. I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay put and resume show and tell. “You can check the bar first. You have to pass right by it to get to the pool.”

“It's just…” Lydia's voice dipped lower. “I can't go and see if she's in there. If I find her in the bar, I will lose it. I can't do that when so many of the croppers are already here,” Lydia said. “It's not going to look good if we are both flaky and over-emotional. The manager is annoyed enough as it is.”

“Fine.” I rolled my eyes and sent a pout over at Steve. “I'll go check the bar.”

“Thanks.” The line went silent.

Sighing, I swung my legs over and stood. “Sorry.”

Steve smiled. “There's always later.”

“One kiss for the road?” I held up an index finger.

Steve walked over to me, hooking his hands behind my back. “I think that might be risky. I doubt we can behave ourselves.”

Right now, I didn't want to behave myself, but I would. I had a job to do. “Take it easy. Do you want me to order room service for you, or bring you up something later?”

“I can manage.” Steve placed a delicate pat on my derrière and sent me out the door.

He was fine. I was fine. Everything would be fine. I continued the mantra as I walked down the hallway toward the elevators. The police or Bob would discover the identity of the woman. Someone knew who she was and would report her missing. The police would probably run the license plates of the cars in the area. They wanted to know who she was just as much as me.

Voice carried from down the hallway.

“Stay away,” a woman said.

A low murmur in a deeper voice responded.

“You're not wanted here.” A blonde woman wearing jeans and purple t-shirt walked out of the small alcove housing the vending machine. It was the woman who talked to me in the parking lot.

An arm shot out, yanking her back. I ran forward.

“Back off.” The woman stalked back out, lips curled in an angry pout. Dark sunglasses hid the rest of her features. “There's nothing you can do to me. But plenty I can do to you.”

Morgan stepped out of the alcove, once again grabbing for her arm. “Don't count on it.”

She yanked away and pivoted.

I skidded to a halt, spun toward the nearest door and pretended to put my key into the slot. With my other hand, I drew my hair over my face. I couldn't let him spot me. My heart pounded. I fought the urge to get another look at the woman. I didn't want Morgan knowing I saw the “meeting.” I knew she was blonde, tall, and lithe. Not much to go on. Was she the identity thief? Morgan followed me because he thought I was a criminal, it made sense he'd harass her for the same reason.

Wait! She had talked to me outside. Was that conversation what set Morgan off? It was after right after the small talk that Morgan cornered me in the elevator. It made sense.

He headed for the stairs and the woman slipped into the elevator. After a few minutes, I went to the elevator and hit the down button. I needed to focus on one problem at a time. First Morgan, and then the mystery woman.

What case had brought Morgan to the resort this weekend?

The identity thief. What were the chances there were two criminals running around the National Scrapbook day crop?

The second elevator arrived and I got inside. I hit the ground floor. The elevator chugged down. I leaned against the back and pondered the situation. Why was I on this guy's radar? Did Adam contact him? My body shook. It was the only thing that made sense. Adam somehow found out about the murders I solved and it was his new way to blame me for his crimes.

I fingered my cell phone. I was willing to take chances with my life, but not my friends and family. If this agent had it in for me, all of those who cared about me were also in danger. The doors opened and I stepped out. I refused to hide. One, he'd catch up with me anyway. Two, I'd be giving control of my life back to Adam. Never again. I had made that promise to myself years ago and it was one I intended to keep.

I melded myself into the shadows at the juncture of the hallway separating the hotel from the convention center and typed a quick text message, keeping details to the minimum. There was one person who knew about my past and had access to databases and people who would know Morgan's MO—Detective Ted Roget. Suddenly I felt nervous. It wasn't that I was worried about Ted knowing what was going on, I was concerned how Steve would feel knowing I went to Ted for help instead of him. While Ted and Steve weren't enemies, they did consider the other competition. Ted wasn't subtle about his interest in me, even after I let it be known that Steve was the guy for me.

Since I sent Ted those pictures of the license plates, he'd know something was up. Might as well give him the rest of the story. I hit send. The text was now making its way to Ted's private cell phone. I hope he wasn't working. If he was, who knew when he'd read it. I didn't want to send it to his work phone as I wasn't sure who else had access. I also didn't want anyone to overhear, so texting was the safest form of communication.

While I waited for Ted's response, I went to the bar to look for Marsha. I walked in and groaned.

Marsha sat a table in the corner. Her messy ponytail was even messier than earlier. One shoulder of her tunic had slipped off to reveal bare skin and the strap of a tank top. Bottles of beer created a semi-circle of temptation in front of her. Or at least I hoped it was still only temptation.

I stopped at the bar and pointed at the table where Marsha sat. “Can we get some coffee?”

“Sure. Is she going to drink it, or stare at it?” The bartender went back into the small kitchen area behind the bar.

“Hopefully just stare at it,” I said. My back pocket vibrated. I plucked my cell out. It was a text from Bob.

Where are you?

The bar.
I hit send. What had he found in the car? I hoped it was evidence to arrest Morgan for the woman's murder, or whatever crime he planned on committing.

Stay put.
He responded back.

I'd love to wait around but I didn't think that would help Marsha at all. She believed five o'clock started now. I needed to get her out of here before she drank anymore.
I'll be here or in the cropping room.

Sending backup.

“Here's your coffee.” The bartender placed two mugs of steaming coffee onto a tray.

I tucked my phone into my pocket before picking up the mugs. “I'll take them over myself.”

Marsha stared forlornly at the beers around her. I didn't know why she thought alcohol would help. It'd only make everything worse. The crop had some hiccups but it wasn't too late to quiet them and get everything back on track.

Of course, the hit-and-run was a lot more than a little wrench; it was a tragedy that we might need to address with the croppers sometime this weekend.

“I bought us some coffee. I figured you had enough of your first choice of beverage.” I placed the mugs down on the table and nudged a bottle of beer. It wouldn't budge. All of the bottles were full. Marsha hadn't succumbed to her addiction. Yet.