Grand Theft Retro (Style & Error Mystery Series Book 5) (12 page)

“Nick, keep your voice down. People are going to notice.”

He ignored me. “I’m dealing with my father at home—do you know what it’s like to live with your father when you’re an adult? It’s crazy. I caught him binge watching
Keeping up with the Kardashians
today.”

“Shhhh!” I said. I grabbed at his hand and he shook me off.

“I told him to get out of the house. I told my own father to get out of the house. Because I wanted—no, I needed—one night to myself. For us. And you
lied
to me. And now I find you checking into a motel? Who is he, Kidd? That biker from Philly? I hope for your sake he’s worth it.”

The door to the room next to mine opened and Detective Loncar came out. He was in a white crew neck undershirt and jeans. White socks with yellow reinforced toes on his feet. His thinning hair stood up on one side, as if he’d been sleeping.

“What the hell is going on out here?” He looked at Nick.

Nick looked at me.

I looked at Nick and then at Detective Loncar. “I believe you two have already met,” I said. I turned and led them into my hotel room.

Nick sat in the desk chair. Loncar brought a chair from his room into mine. I was the only one allowed on the bed. My room, my rules. When we were all situated with plastic cups of ginger ale from the vending machine, I short-handed my explanation of events to the two of them as best as I could.

“Nick, I know you’re mad, but I’m not sneaking around behind your back. I’m trying to protect everybody I know. I thought the best thing to do was to distance myself from you, at least until the detective and I figure out why Pritchard Smith is after me.”

“Whoa,” Loncar said. “We,” he motioned back and forth between himself and me, “are not figuring out anything. You,” he pointed at me, “are minding your own business.”

“Minding my own business is exactly how I got into this mess. I hardly think it’s going to get me out of it. Besides, I start Citizen’s Police Academy on Monday, so I’ll be much more equipped to handle situations like this.”

“About that,” Loncar said, “I tore up your application.” I inhaled sharply, ready to react. He held up his hand to keep me from talking. “That is not up for discussion. My job is to keep you safe. Not to help you graduate from the CPA. Letting you take that course would be bad judgment on my part.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair. You think I like sleeping in a motel while my wife and daughter coo over my granddaughter?”

Nick chimed in. “You think I like knowing that my girlfriend would rather check into a motel than call me for help?”

I looked back and forth between their faces. “Do you think I like going out in public in sweatpants?” I asked.

Loncar stood up. “I’m not going to ask how you got the room next to mine or how you happen to be driving around in a retired taxi. What I am going to ask is that you don’t leave the motel tonight. Got that?”

Before I could answer, Nick spoke up. “She’s not going to leave the motel. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Just how do you plan to do that?” I asked, crossing my arms in front of me.

“We’re spending the night together.”

Loncar seemed to think that was his cue to leave. Funny, I would have figured him to be more of the chaperoning type.

Nine years working together. Nine years flirting with each other. Nine years of innuendo and then one year of foreplay. Sure, I’d dated other people during the time that I’d fantasized about Nick. But from that first day when I’d met him on a sludge-filled street in New York while he was unloading his truck of samples and I was out for my morning coffee, through the time we’d spent together at market (the week when buyers had appointments with designers to select their collections for the upcoming seasons), we both seemed to understand that there was a different sort of connection between us. That was a whole lot of build-up to dump onto a blossoming relationship.

Maybe that’s why we crashed and burned the first time. Never mind the slow courtship. The following year had been too much, too fast. Nick had bought back distribution of his shoe collection and was making a go of financing it himself. I’d been new to Ribbon, trying to reestablish myself in the town where I’d grown up. He’d spent six months in Milan working with his factories. I’d cycled through two jobs, three homicide investigations, brought down one knockoff ring, and saved his maybe-former-girlfriend from failure at the hands of an arsonist.

We’d both been busy.

But it wasn’t just that. Since returning to Ribbon, I’d learned a lot about myself. The whole motivation for this move had been because I wasn’t happy in my job—a job that most people would think was glamorous and enviable. I was seeking something, some kind of satisfaction at the hands of my lifestyle strip down and rebuild, and I still didn’t know what it was. Deep, deep, deep down I was starting to fear that I was never going to be happy. That I was so busy looking for rush after rush after rush because it kept me from looking at the one thing I hadn’t bothered to change since I’d given notice at Bentley’s: myself.

I’d spent two years keeping myself so busy with failed jobs and dangerous situations and living room rearrangements and closet cleaning that I hadn’t stopped long enough to confront the important question: exactly what was it that I wanted out of life?

The clock on the fake wood table next to the bed indicated that it was nine thirty. Until tomorrow morning, there was nothing to take my mind off the fact that Nick and I were alone in a hotel room. Not even a deck of cards.

“So, your dad is sitting in at your regular poker game?” I asked. I fished my toothpaste and toothbrush out of my bag and carried them to the bathroom. “I didn’t know you played poker. What are the stakes? Maybe I should join your game.”

“Kidd, I don’t want to talk about my dad right now, and I don’t want to talk about poker.” He stood from the narrow chair and walked toward me.

“Okay. How’s work? You’re due for a trip to Milan soon, aren’t you?”

He was right in front of me. I could smell his aftershave—Creed’s Bois du Portugal, a heady mix of cedar and sandalwood. The heat from his body came off of him in waves, reaching me even though there were inches between us. I held up my toothpaste in one hand and my toothbrush in the other. “You can use my toothpaste if you want, but I only bought one brush,” I said quietly.

He put his hands on either side of my face. Slowly he leaned toward me, until his lips rested right above mine. I tipped my head up slightly. We kissed.

He didn’t need toothpaste.

“Shhhh,” he said when he pulled away. He put his finger on my lips to emphasize the point. “You’re the most thoughtful person I’ve ever met. You’re generous,” he kissed me, “beautiful,” he kissed me, “and sexy.” He kissed me. “If you weren’t a touch crazy, you’d be perfect.”

“I’m not perfect,” I whispered back.

“Oh, yeah? What’s wrong with you?” His voice was barely audible. I leaned back against the bathroom sink for support. He put his hands on my hips and his lips made a trail from my earlobe, to my cheek, down my neck.

“I have cellulite,” I blurted.

He stood up and looked directly at me, the crinkles by his eyes deep with laugher. “It’s going to take more than cellulite to scare me away this time,” he said. His lips met mine again, and this time I felt it all the way to my toes.

We were interrupted by a knock on the door. Nick’s hands tightened on my upper arms. “Shhhh,” he said again, but this time it had a completely different tone.

“It’s your neighbor,” Loncar said through the door. “You guys want a pizza? I have leftovers.”

Nick relaxed his grip and bent down, his forehead resting against mine. “You want his pizza, don’t you?”

“I’m not going to turn it down,” I said.

I stayed in the bathroom while Nick got the pizza from Loncar. The scent of his cologne was quickly replaced with tangy tomato, oregano, and pepperoni. No wonder Loncar’s wife was trying to change his eating habits. They were practically the same as mine.

By the time the pizza was finished, I’d made a decision. “Nothing is going to happen tonight.”

“That’s why I’m staying here. To make sure you’re safe,” Nick said.

“That’s not what I mean. We’re in a motel room. Alone. We’ve never spent a night together before.”

“You like to make up rules, don’t you?”

“Actually, they’re more like guidelines,” I said.

“Okay, a guideline has been established. Nothing will happen tonight.” He put his fingertip on my lower lip, and then slowly let it trail down my chin, my throat, my neck. “But if you change your mind, nobody is going to judge us for giving in to temptation.”

I closed my eyes, aware only of his fingertip on my skin. Could I let go for one night? I opened my eyes and moved his finger away from me. “Detective Loncar is on the other side of that wall. I’d really rather not be preoccupied with him when we—if we—do that.”

Nick looked at the wall between my room and Loncar’s. “Good point. That leaves one question.”

“What’s that?”

“Which side of the bed do you want?”

We slept in our clothes. I woke to an infomercial for some kind of exercise equipment. Nick’s arm was around me and my face was pressed against the buttons on his shirt. Our legs were intertwined. We were both on his side of the bed.

He appeared to be sound asleep. This was going to be awkward.

What was I supposed to do? Extricate myself and pretend I’d stayed on my own side of the bed? Or will myself to be still until he woke up and untangled himself from me? I felt a Charlie horse in my calf and moved my legs. He rolled toward me and put his other arm around me. “Mmmmm,” he said, burying his face in my tangled hair. “I decided last night that I’m not a big fan of guidelines.”

Okay, maybe it wasn’t going to be awkward after all.

Twenty minutes later, we were enjoying the complimentary breakfast buffet. Loncar came into the room, looked at us, and took a seat across the room. Maybe it was because he thought it best to keep his distance. Or because he saw me feed Nick a piece of bacon. You just never know with that one.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Nick said. He reached across the table and braided his fingers through mine. “Last night was…right?”

“Right,” I said. “Except for the broken spring in the bed.”

“I didn’t notice it.”

“It wasn’t on your side.”

He ran his thumb back and forth over mine. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “You’ve had too many close calls since you’ve been back in Ribbon. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you either,” I said. The gravity of the situation hit me. Bacon or no bacon, this was it. This was real. I hadn’t heard from Pritchard in days. Maybe he’d found what he was looking for and had forgotten all about me.

“I’m going to go to my apartment to shower and change,” Nick said. “I’ll bring my laptop back and work from here for the rest of the day. Do you want me to bring you anything?” he asked.

Even thought we’d spent the night together, I wasn’t yet comfortable asking Nick to bring me clean underwear. “Nope, I’m fine,” I said.

We left the lobby and he walked me back to the room. I unlocked the door, but he didn’t come in. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” he said.

Loncar came round the corner. I felt awkward, like my dad was watching the end of a date. I backed into the room.

“See you later,” I said to Nick. I stepped all of the way into my room and put the chain on the door.

Ten minutes later, Nick called. “Hi,” I answered. “Sorry I acted funny. Loncar made me feel self conscious.”

“Kidd,” he said. His voice was tight and strained. Something was wrong.

“What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” The hair on my arms and neck stood up.

“Nothing’s okay.”

“Why? What happened?”

“It’s what didn’t happen. My dad never came back from the poker game last night.”

Chapter 14

SATURDAY
MORNING

I forced myself to block the paranoid thoughts that fought for room in my imagination. “I’m sure it’s fine. You said he took your seat at your poker game. Can you call any of the guys?”

“I left messages with everybody I know. Turns out this was a new group of players. They met at the bingo hall. Nobody shows up there until after four.”

“What about his friends? Did any of them play?” My phone buzzed with an incoming call. I pulled the phone away from my head and looked at the display but didn’t recognize the number. “Maybe he got up early and went out for breakfast.”

“He didn’t sleep in his bed,” Nick said.

“Neither did you.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“I didn’t say it was funny. I’m just saying not to panic. Please, Nick, stay calm. There could be a logical explanation.” Aside from the one I was thinking: that Pritchard was behind this. He wasn’t done with me yet.

“I’ll call you back,” he said.

After he hung up, I dressed in the
I Got Tied Up In Ribbon!
sweatshirt and yesterday’s sweatpants. My phone rang again, but by the time I found it, the caller had hung up. A few seconds later, the screen lit up, indicating a new message. I put it on speaker while I pulled my hair back into a tight ponytail. The voice was high and unnatural, as though the caller had been trying to mask their identity.

“You didn’t play your cards right, Ess Kay. I wonder, was it worth the gamble?” The question was followed with laughter. It sounded fake, like the Joker in a Batman movie. But this was no joke, and the message hadn’t come from a doll. It had come from Pritchard Smith. And it meant one thing. He knew Nick had spent the night, and he’d taken that opportunity to kidnap Nick’s dad.

I went outside and pounded on Loncar’s door. He opened it seconds later. “They took Nick’s dad,” I said before he could tell me to go away.

Loncar grabbed my arm and pulled me inside. He slammed his door shut behind me and threw the deadbolt. “Tell me exactly what you know.”

I cued up the message, put the phone on speaker, and played him the message. “Nick’s dad went to a poker game last night. Playing my cards right. Did you hear that? And he asks if it was worth the gamble. Those are references to the poker game, see? He’s making sure I know what he did. If Nick hadn’t followed me here, his dad would be safe right now. It’s my fault!”