Hot Spot (32 page)

HIS SISTER CALLED WHILE HE WAS ON THE WAY over to Stillwater, and he almost didn't answer. He finally did on the sixth ring, because he was programed to give into her. It just went with the older sister territory.

"Did I call at a bad time?" Libby asked. "You sound like you want to rip someone's head off."

"Sorry. Road rage. Some jerk almost took my fender off." The truth wasn't an option. Libby would give him advice he didn't want to hear.

"I won't talk long if you're driving in heavy traffic. I just wanted to give you a heads-up. We're coming in a day early for a sale at Ikea."

Danny stifled a groan. Entertaining family wasn't high on his list right now. "Great," he said. So he'd put his dicey love life on hold for an
entire
three-day weekend. No problem.

"You don't sound great."

"It's the damned traffic," he lied, cursing her fine-tuned perception. She'd been the only one in the family who could understand his unintelligible toddler language; apparently that sixth sense was still functioning.

"Maybe we could meet that owner of the comic book store when we're in town."

"Why?" he asked, the muscles in his shoulders tensing.

"The kids would like to see her store. You said it was a good one. And when we talked last time you didn't say no when I mentioned it. If it's a problem—"

"If there's time," he said.

"If you'd rather not."

"Let's just see how things go."

"Did you have a fight with her?"

"Christ, Libby, give me a break. Since when do you care about my girlfriends?"

"So she's a girlfriend?"

Oops. "Girl friend, two separate words, okay? She's a friend. More like an acquaintance. We both like comics. That's it."

"Whatever you say."

He hated that tone. The I-don't-believe-you-for-a-minute tone. "That's what I have to say. I'll see you on Friday."

"Thursday night."

His knuckles went white on the wheel. "Sounds good. Thursday."

"Be careful with your driving."

"Yeah, yeah. Are we done?"

"Absolutely. Bye."

Her voice had been cheerful as hell. And he knew why. Because she was thinking she'd meet Stella in a few days, and she was thinking there was more to Stella and him than he was saying. Not that it was likely they'd meet. For one thing, Stella might be on his shit list if she was involved in his break-ins. For another, even if she wasn't involved, their relationship wasn't exactly free of friction. Although, it had to be her fault. He'd never had this problem before.

Jeez, would they ever finish construction on the lift bridge, he grumbled, braking to a stop behind a long line of cars waiting for the flag man to give them the go-ahead. He fiddled with the radio, looking for a good song, tapped his fingers on the wheel, counted the cars in front of him, checked his watch.

He wouldn't admit to nerves.

He was never nervous.

What the hell did he have to be nervous about?

"Thank you," he murmured under his breath as the flag man waved them on.

But he tensed up big time when his cell phone rang a block from Stella's and Frank Stanchfield's number came up. Now this call he'd take. Pulling over, he parked and flipped open his phone.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I have news that will eliminate some of your suspects. The first bit of news you'll read in your papers tomorrow. Brian Larson was just busted as part of a drug ring the feds have been watching. The Kirsty girl was with him at his house; she went into hysterics, apparently. After she was calmed down, the feds were able to question her, and she turned out to be a stupid bystander, but otherwise innocent. I'm not saying the Larson guy is completely free of suspicion in your break-ins, but my guess is he's only doing one thing at a time. The drug ring was a pretty good size. You'll hear the inflated street prices quoted in the paper tomorrow, but it wasn't small potatoes by any means."

"So I should cross off Brian and Kirsty from my suspect list?"

"That would be my assumption."

"Okay." Danny blew out a breath. "That doesn't leave a whole lot."

"I'll keep looking. You stay buttoned up out on the farm. How are Stu and Zack doing?"

"Great. Good. Look, thanks again. I'm on my way somewhere. I'll give you a call later and get all the details."

"Sounds good."

Danny sat in his truck afterward, trying to sort through the diminishing options now that Brian and Kirsty were most likely eliminated. It was better that he'd heard the news before he saw Stella, he supposed. He slowly exhaled. Although—shit—this really complicated an already tangled, hairy-assed mess.

But complications aside, sex was still on the table.

It just went to show how fatal attractions could be addictive.

RYAN SAW DANNY BEFORE STELLA DID AND THEN Chris, Jason, and Zeke took up the welcome cry. He was mobbed as he came through the door.

"Give me a minute, guys. I have to talk to Stella."

"Hurry, 'cuz I want to show you my—" (iPod, game, comic, homework, new sneakers). Take your pick from the chorus.

He moved toward her, not sure whether to smile or look serious, whether he was sad or mad or just screwed up in general.

She was glad there was a counter too high to jump over, or she might have been tempted to throw herself into his arms even though he looked grim as a prosecutor in court.

"Could I talk to you?"

Defensive, elated, and every emotion in between, she went with the first one because she didn't feel like making it easy for him. "Go for it."

He nodded toward the back room. "In private?"

She didn't move.

"It's important."

"If it's about you-know-what," she cryptically said because several pairs of eyes and ears were trained on them, "no."

"It isn't. Please."

His soft appeal did a couple things to her, one good and one not so good. On the other hand, a semi-groveling man partially canceled out the not-so-good thing. "Okay, just for a minute," she said. "Ryan, you're in charge." She didn't want to lose fifty comics because Danny Rees was horny.

He stood aside so she could precede him into the back room and carefully shut the door behind them.

"If you lock it, I'm screaming."

He turned around and held up his hands. "Calm down."

A relative term with him that close, but that might have more to do with her lack of control than his. "What's on your mind?"

Other than you twenty-four seven, not much
. But he had to get the dicey stuff out of the way first. And then he'd see if anything was salvageable in this emotional tailspin he was in. "Look, if you're involved in these break-ins, just tell me, and we'll deal with it. I won't press charges."

"Break-ins?" She could have been saying "Mass murders?" with the level of shock in her voice. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Her horrified look was either for real or she was a better actress than he thought. "My office has been broken into twice." He watched her for blinking. "You don't know anything about it?"

"Do I look like I know anything about it?" Not a blink. "Are you nuts?"

Okay, so the psychology of crime wasn't foolproof. "The first time it happened was the night you stayed at my house."

"So? There were other people there, too. Including Miss Kirsty," she acerbically noted, her nostrils flaring. "She's more the type to steal something if you ask me."

Don't look at her boobs when she takes a breath like that. Stay focused
. "The second break-in was a few days ago when the power went out."

"I was working on Megan's campaign sign, and for your information,
my
power
didn't
go out. Rather than accuse me of this, I'd think your drug dealer friends would be more likely suspects."

"Pardon me?" Major sarcasm. His dark eyes drilled through her like an offshore oil rig. "Drug dealer friends?"

"Don't try and look all innocent and offended," she shot back, leaning forward, in his face. "You don't have a job. You live like a prince. You have cars that millionaires drive and other people only see in magazines. If you're not a drug dealer, you must have won the lottery. And the odds of that are slim to zero. So that's why I'm thinking drug dealer. And what do you have to steal anyway if you're not a drug dealer? A couple TVs?"

He stared at her like he was trying to decide if her second head was real or not.

"What? You're the fucking law-breaker, not me."

"I'm not a drug dealer."

"And I didn't fall off the last turnip truck."

"Would you like to talk to my accountant?"

"He probably only works for drug dealers. He'll vouch for you."

"What if I asked you for some proof that you didn't try to burglarize my house?"

"I'd tell you to shove it. I don't have to give you proof of anything."

He blew out a breath and scowled at her.

"Scowl all you want. I own a comic book store, not a fencing operation. And believe me, if I tried to turn to crime, Ryan and Chris would be the first ones wanting to be cut in. And probably Amy, too. And Zeke. Shit, I'd have to cut my profits twenty ways with the number of would-be juvies who hang out here."