Justifiable Risk (23 page)

The squad room was empty when Greer left the sergeant’s office. The other detectives had apparently gone for the day, and she cursed Long for making her miss Craig. Those camera cards might be her only lead. She stopped by her desk to check messages and saw a file folder with Craig’s childlike scribble:
You owe me.

She flipped the file open and examined the last two photographs. Craig had done an amazing job of enhancing the shady images enough to make out facial features of one of the individuals in the shadows. She recognized the man immediately—Baron Wallace, local drug lord. But how was he connected to Paul Saldana? Perhaps Paul
had
been a user and Wallace was his contact. Or maybe Paul stumbled on a meeting that he instinctively knew was important enough to photograph. But more likely the picture was a random shot. The answer was in the identity of the other person with Wallace. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be as easy to identify that individual. The darkness veiled his features more completely. Whatever the connection, Greer had to find Baron Wallace to unravel it.

As she made a mental note of the locations Wallace frequented, she slid the pictures back into the folder and headed home. If she put Icarus in the wind, she’d make it just in time. The thought of Eva sharing a nice family meal with her and Bessie warmed Greer and made her twist the throttle a little harder. She decided to wait until after dinner to tell Eva about the pictures of Baron Wallace.

*

Eva wiped her hands on her apron and looked at the appetizing dishes with an odd sense of satisfaction. It had been years since she put a meal on the table that didn’t come out of a takeout container. She’d insisted that Bessie let her help make a traditional Portuguese meal, in honor of her homeland and Bessie’s affinity for the country. “This looks delicious. I hope Greer likes it.”

“We’re about to find out,” Bessie said as the motorcycle rumbled past the main house toward the garage. “But, trust me, she’ll eat anything that isn’t nailed down.” Bessie took Eva’s hands and squeezed. “You have no idea how much I’ve enjoyed this. I miss some of the foods I used to get in my travels and the pleasure of someone else’s company in the kitchen.” Her eyes misted with tears as she ushered Eva toward the pantry. “Now get a bottle of white wine from the chiller before I start crying like a big baby.”

Eva warmed at Bessie’s obvious appreciation. Helping with dinner reminded Eva of many days with her mother doing the same thing. They’d worked effortlessly together, as she and Bessie had, anticipating the other and sliding into an easy rhythm of preparation and cooking. She hadn’t imagined feeling that comfortable anywhere other than her childhood home.

Rummaging through Bessie’s collection of wines, Eva thrilled at the variety. Her host was apparently a connoisseur of fine wine from many countries. She pulled a familiar bottle from the rack and read the label—Quinto do Vallado Douro 2007. “I can’t believe you have my favorite wine. How wonderful.”

“I thought you might like it. I made some of my fondest memories of Portugal over a bottle of that very brand. Honey, would you mind giving Greer a shout to hurry along while I finish? We don’t want this feast to get cold.”

“Of course.” As Eva crossed the backyard toward the garage apartment, Greer met her halfway. She held a file folder and her blond hair was wet and full of finger ridges where she’d combed it. Her T-shirt clung in damp splotches to her body, and the hiking shorts she wore stopped mid-thigh, revealing a long expanse of shapely legs. She’d changed from her earlier attire, and the skimpier version caused a sudden burst of arousal in Eva. Nobody should look this good. “I’ve been sent to summon you to dinner. We don’t want our masterpiece to get cold.”

“
Our
masterpiece?”

“Yes, Bessie let me help with dinner.”

“But she hasn’t allowed anyone in her kitchen since—”

“Since Clare, she told me. I’m honored. We worked together nicely. Your aunt is an amazing woman.”

“She certainly is.”

“What do you have there?” Eva indicated the folder.

“We’ll talk about it after dinner.” Greer pressed her palm against Eva’s back and guided her toward the house. The small, possibly unconscious, gesture that initially annoyed Eva now felt protective and surprisingly enjoyable. Greer ushered her inside and held her chair, then Bessie’s. “This smells great.”

“Wait until you taste it. Eva and I created a touch of Portugal for your dining pleasure. Dig in, I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

Eva felt pride for having helped with the meal and grateful to share a cherished tradition with people who mattered to her. She hadn’t felt this welcome at a family dinner table in a long time.

Bessie dug in first and rumbled appreciatively. “Mmm. This is some kind of good. It reminds me of a story.”

“Oh, no.” Greer groaned. “She
always
does this. Food
always
reminds Bessie of a story and it
never
has anything to do with the food. It’s usually a made-up tale about my childhood.”

Eva was immediately more attentive. “Do tell, Bessie.”

“Well, as you can imagine, Greer has a bit of a God complex. When she was a child she convinced herself she could fly. Most kids go through that phase, but hers persisted and she tried numerous times to prove it.”

“Oh, Bessie. You’ll spoil my dinner.”

“Shush,” Eva said. “It’s rude to interrupt.”

“When Ruth and I were building the garage, Greer climbed to the roof and jumped. She was a horrifying and hilarious sight, after the fact. We were terrified. But this little tow-haired minx flapped her arms and yelled for us to watch her fly over the pond.”

“Oh, my God. Was she hurt?” Eva stopped chewing, gazing at Greer.

“Not a scratch. She hit the ground, rolled a few times, and started back for another try.”

“What?”

“She said she wasn’t flapping her wings fast enough.”

Eva and Bessie laughed while Greer stuffed more food in her mouth and shrugged. The dinner chat remained light and entertaining. Bessie told a few more stories about Greer’s escapades, and Greer corrected and revamped the stories to suit her superhuman vision of herself as a child. Their laughter bounced off the high beams in the ceiling as they created memories of their own.

When the chatter quieted, Bessie pushed back from the table. “That’s about the best meal I’ve had in years. You two run along while I clean up.” Eva started to object but Bessie cut her off. “Nope, you helped cook and I wouldn’t trust that one,” she nodded toward Greer, “with my dishes after such a feast. She’s already headed into a food-induced coma. Skedaddle. Washing up will give me a chance to savor it again…and lick the pots.”

“It won’t do you any good to argue with her.” Greer hooked her arm through Eva’s and led her toward the back deck. “Come on, we need to talk anyway.”

“Thanks, Bessie. It was delicious,” Eva said.

“The best.” Greer retrieved the file folder from the counter and closed the kitchen door behind them. “I don’t see how you kept your figure if you ate like that growing up.”

“I’ve always been a runner. That helps, though I haven’t had much time to indulge since I’ve been here. But you’re stalling with the flattery, so let’s have it.”

“Jeez, I didn’t use to be so transparent.”

“Maybe I see the real you.” She was simply stating her opinion, but it obviously made Greer uncomfortable.

She scuffed her sandals against the decking and hooked a thumb in the rear pocket of her shorts. “Yeah, maybe you do.”

“What is it?”

Greer handed Eva the folder. “Craig made some headway with the photos on Paul’s camera card. I recognize one of the people in the shadows.” She waited while Eva looked at the enhanced images. “It’s Baron Wallace, a.k.a. the Baron, top man in the local drug scene.”

Tension grew between her and Greer as she stared at the man’s face. “And you’re thinking, what, that Paul bought drugs from this man? Are we back to that again?”

“Don’t jump to conclusions, Eva. I’m not sure what to think. It’s unlikely that Paul bought drugs, from everything you’ve told me about him, but I have to consider all the possibilities. When we clear his name, we don’t want to have
any
unanswered questions.”

When
we
clear his name?
Eva was torn between the implications of the new photos and Greer’s inclusion of her as a real part of the investigation. Greer didn’t have to share this information with her. She could have withheld it until she found the connection. Perhaps Greer was starting to trust and believe in her. “You’re right. I don’t want questions. We have to find this Baron. I’ll have the New Hope paper run a picture of him. I’ll offer a reward. Somebody will come forward.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Of course I can. It’s the fastest way to locate him.”

“And blow our chances of finding out what happened.”

Eva didn’t understand Greer. One minute she included her in the details of the case and the next she blocked her efforts to help. “I don’t follow.”

“We need to ID the other person in the picture. If there’s a conspiracy, a media blitz will send Baron into hiding, maybe get him killed, and his boss will cover his tracks. Please let me handle this, Eva. I need to know you can do that, without interference. Will you trust me?”

Greer’s plea touched Eva, and her urgency lessened. She stepped closer and placed her hand against Greer’s cheek. “I trust you with my life. Don’t you know that?” The words were out before Eva could edit them, but she meant every one. Pure instinct told her she could and should trust Greer completely.

Greer turned her face into Eva’s hand and kissed her palm. The tenderness shot up Eva’s arm and straight to her heart. Greer’s stormy blue gaze dug into her soul as she slid her hands up Eva’s sides, pausing at her waist. She knew what would happen next before Greer asked.

“May I kiss you?”

“Pleas—” Greer’s mouth was on hers before she finished the word. She was gentle and timid, as if asking further permission. “Yes.” Greer outlined Eva’s lips with the tip of her tongue, her breath hot and sporadic. Eva placed a hand behind Greer’s head and brought them together. “More.”

Greer eased her tongue into Eva’s mouth tentatively, as if kissing for the first time. But her technique was exquisite, the slow, deliberate pace of an intended seduction. It was torment of the sweetest variety—every stroke delicious, every touch an explosion of arousal, every spark of desire spiraling straight to her core. Greer kissed her deeper, pulling their bodies so close Eva could barely breathe.

She’d never had a kiss that felt so much like a request. Now she understood why Greer hadn’t done this before. A kiss wasn’t just a kiss to her. It meant something more significant, more revealing. As Greer’s mouth closed over hers, she surrendered to whatever that something might be.

“Take me to bed, Greer.” But the cool night air against her lips swept away her hopes.

Greer stepped back, her gaze a blend of desire and confusion, her breath coming in short bursts. “Not yet.” She handed Eva the photo folder. “Keep these, but promise you won’t use them until I give the okay.”

Eva reeled from their kiss, not ready to relinquish the moment but desperately wanting to give Greer whatever she needed. “You have my word.” Eva watched Greer walk toward the garage and for the first time in her life knew the pure, deep ache of a lover’s parting.

Greer thought morning would never come as she lay awake in her small apartment and mentally replayed dinner with Eva and Bessie. They’d been like a family—wonderful women sharing a delicious meal, stories, laughter, and closeness. When she and Eva were alone on the deck, the feelings only grew stronger. She temporarily contained the desire to touch her, but something more demanding took charge. Her subconscious betrayed her by unleashing long-suppressed, often-denied feelings. Suddenly her need was more about sustaining the emotional familiarity she’d experienced with Eva than the physical union they’d shared.

The secret compartment in which she carefully stored all things poignant had suddenly burst open and flooded her senses. She was trapped in the moment as deftly as a moth captured in burning torment, and just as powerless to do anything about it. Though she’d been with women since Clare, the emotional and the physical had never merged. The combination was powerful, the desire to touch overwhelming. Her insides quivered with restrained energy, and as she’d reached for Eva her hands trembled.

The intimate physicality she’d avoided for two years loomed—kissing another woman. Uncertainty had plagued her as she’d slid her hands up Eva’s sides, afraid she would feel nothing but more afraid of feeling too much. She stepped closer to Eva, focused on her moist, full lips. She’d requested permission as much for herself as for Eva. But that permission didn’t relieve her of responsibility.

Her choice spoke volumes about her mental and emotional state. Kissing implied a deeper level of caring and served as an invitation to fully engage. As their lips met, her entire body hummed with the energy that flowed between them. Eva’s lips were warm and eager, her mouth welcoming, and hungry. Greer’s reservations dissolved in the waves of sensation that coursed through her. She’d made the right decision.

While she enjoyed the physical aspects, the emotional aura made her almost dizzy. Eva’s affection and responsiveness made her feel worthy. This connection was unique; Eva was special. As their kiss deepened, she wanted more but forced herself to step back and reality intruded. Too many obstacles existed between them, and she needed to stay on her reliable behavioral path.