Lying Eyes (3 page)

"Ouch.
Darn.
That hurt." She sucked the tip of her aching finger and examined the injury.

The tip was already turning blue.

"This is Mister Uptight Detective's fault," she said to the image reflected in the dresser mirror. "Who does he think he is, ordering me around like a misbehaving child? If he hadn't made me so angry, I would've had my mind on unpacking, instead of on him."

What should she do?

Ice will deaden the pain.

She glanced at the small refrigerator and groaned.

There are no ice cubes in there.

She'd checked as soon as the bellhop had left, hoping to quench her thirst with a cold drink, but had discovered no one had refilled the ice cube trays.

So much had happened. Someone had switched bags with her. Detective Demetri had turned into a dictator. She'd smashed her finger. What next?

S
he couldn't do anything about the detective, but she knew how to keep her finger from swelling.

Go get ice.

Allison pocketed her room key, grabbed the ice bucket, and hurried to the ice machine.

Moments later she wrapped her arm around the half-filled ice bucket and rounded the corner leading to her room already mentally unlocking her door.

A scowling man blocked her way.

"Excuse me—"

He clamped his beefy hands around her upper arms.

Irate at his audacity, Allison wrenched one arm free and tossed the ice bucket at him.

Startled, he turned her loose.

Screaming like a banshee, she headed for the safety of her room.

A commotion erupted behind her, but she refused to slow her steps to glance back.

"Allison!" a familiar but panicked voice shouted, rounding the corner like a Keystone Cop brandishing his gun.

His feet flew out from under him. He landed hard on the carpeted floor, scattering ice in every direction.

Uh oh.

His gun went flying, too.

He quickly righted himself and, half running, he holstered his gun, and skidded to a halt at her side.

"Are. You. All. Right?" he panted, stopping at her door.

"Yes, but the perp—"

"—crashed into me as I exited the elevator. He took the same elevator Up, scared off by your shrieks, I imagine. He's long gone for now. See why I need
help
?"

Unlocking her door with hands far steadier than hers, he dragged her inside.

He threw the security lock with a loud thump, and turned to her.

"What part of 'Stay put until I get back' did you not understand?"

"Everything else slipped my mind when I smashed my finger—" Giving him the finger, she shook it in his livid face. "I went for ice to stop the pain."

"And could have easily gotten yourself killed," he said with barely controlled fury.

A muscle twitched in his cheek.

"Well, yes, but—"

"No buts. Remember?" Loosening his tie, he raised his voice. "Are you ever going to start listening to me?"

"Stop shouting. I
am
listening."

He must have counted to ten before nodding. "Good."

After a moment of silence, Allison stalked to the closet, opened the luggage rack, and attempted to lift her suitcase onto it.

"Here, let me do that. I thought you said your finger hurts."

Hands on her hips, she stepped aside. "Thank you. Yes, I smashed my finger in the dresser drawer but, thanks to all the excitement,
it
no longer is bothering me."

She unzipped the suitcase and reached for a coat hanger. "When I was growing up my older brother behaved just like you. Always so darn sure he knew what was best for me. There was no reasoning with him."

She strode to the closet, took out three more hangers, and shook them in the detective's self-righteous face. "I have news for you. I'm not at all convinced your way is the best."

"I am. Enough said."

"Were you this overprotective of your sisters?"

Pain and guilt flashed in his flinty, coal eyes.

Careful. You just crossed some invisible line.

The detective strode to the floor-to-ceiling windows and stared at the busy street below. While his attention was elsewhere, she stuffed her silk panties in the shallow dresser drawer away from his observant eyes and carefully pushed the drawer closed.

"I never had a sister." He swallowed, glancing away. "Only brothers."

She barely heard his pain-laced reply.

"Did you try to tell
them
what to do?"

"Yes, but neither one listened and now both my brothers are dead."

––––––––

"I
don't know what got into me," Carlo said. "I never talk about my brothers to anyone."

"Sometimes talking about the difficulties we've faced helps," Miss Marble said. "Next time you go all Rambo on me, I'll know where you're coming from."

He forced back a grin.

She zipped her now empty suitcase and put it away. "I better change into something more suitable for hosting a cocktail party. Will you still be here when I come out?"

Carlo winced. "Looks like I'm stuck with you for the foreseeable future. Don't hurry on my account."

She strolled around the room, opening drawers and closet doors, until she smiled with satisfaction, black garments he thought best he not dwell upon clutched in her hands.

She ducked into the bathroom but fired off a parting shot. "Don't miss me too much."

Carlo balled his hands into fists.

How could one diminutive woman in a matter of hours worm her way so completely beneath my skin?

The shower turned on.

Needing to do
something
, anything to get his mind off the irritating woman he pictured preparing to step beneath the shower head's soothing spray, Carlo let loose a frustrated string of curse words meant only for his ears.

Miss Marble sure undressed fast.

For a woman whose life could be in danger, she's tough.

Most women would have run out of the hotel screaming instead of staying here to face the perp.

He probably had Allison's brother to thank for her resilience. Most women would be a bundle of nerves by now.

Even when he'd tried to frighten her, she'd refused to cower.

The Captain will set her straight about traipsing around the Caprice as if nothing untoward has happened.

Carlo couldn't wait for the two of them to meet.

He'd just stand back and watch the fur fly, one show he didn't plan to miss.

To take his mind off the sounds coming from Allison's shower, Carlo called the head of Hotel Security, Bob Stonewall, and asked him to come to 510 right away to discuss a security matter of utmost importance.

Even so, the knock at Allison's door made him jump.

"Security."

Carlo matched the badge held to the peephole in the door to the grim-faced man waiting in the hall, let the head guard in, and flipped the second lock on the door.

Stonewall leaned the safety door-protection-rod he'd carried in against a wall of Allison's room, shook Carlo's hand, and introduced himself. "Bob Stonewall."

"Detective Demetri. That was quick."

"We pride ourselves on having the most efficient elevator service in the business. Is there a problem?"

"Yes. Please, sit. I promise not to take too much of your time.
This
is the problem."

Carlo unzipped the gym bag and showed Stonewall the contents.

Peering inside, Stonewall whistled. "I'll say. Where did you get this?"

"Someone swapped gym bags with Allison Marble, the occupant of this room. We think it happened at the train station. The person responsible has already made one attempt to recover the bag. I've called Central for backup."

Obviously puzzled, Stonewall asked, "How can my staff help? I can't promise this much cash will be safe in the hotel safe."

"Don't worry. Within the hour this bag will be officially logged in as evidence of a crime and smuggled out of the hotel. The perp will have no way of knowing his bag is no longer in this room. Once my team is in place I'd like you to make certain the lines of communication between my personnel and yours remain open at all times."

Stonewall nodded. "I can assign men in plain clothes to watch this floor in twelve hour shifts."

"Thank you. With so many guests milling around, the lobby will be a problem, too. When she comes out, I suggest you take a photograph of Miss Marble and pass it around to the Caprice staff."

"Of course."

"My Captain and the rest of my team will be here in a couple of hours to attend a staged cocktail party and I'd like you to come to the meeting, too. The purpose of the party is to set a plan in motion to guarantee Miss Marble's safety. She is presenting a workshop at the conference and will be attending many other events as well in the company of two female undercover cops."

"Sounds like you've thought of everything, Detective."

"Only time will tell. and another thing—  if the room next door is unoccupied, could you have my luggage moved from room 605 into it? Until more help arrives, I'm stuck here."

At the sound of the bathroom door opening, Stonewall stood. "If the adjoining room is occupied, I'll upgrade the occupants to a suite, so consider it done. Anything else?"

"I'll let you know if there is. Thanks in advance for your help."

Frowning, Miss Marble stepped into the room. A black mini-dress clung to her supple-looking hips and platform shoes drew Carlo's appreciative gaze to her bare, shapely legs. She looked nothing like the woman who'd shared his taxi and too damn much like a woman on the prowl to allow out of his sight.

Damn. I
should
lock her in this room and throw away the key.

He scowled. "Allison Marble, this is Bob Stonewall, head of Hotel Security. He'll be back for your party, but before he leaves would you mind letting him take your photograph? I think I'll snap one, too."

Allison posed for the photos, and shook Bob's hand again as he prepared to leave. "Thank you for offering to help bring this unpleasant situation to a satisfactory conclusion for everyone involved."

Stonewall smiled widely, exposing two rows of straight teeth. "No problem, that's my job. Nice meeting you. I'll be back at six."

With bells on,
Carlo thought grimly. Like bees to honey, he'd soon find himself having to fight off every heterosexual man who entered the Caprice.

He clenched his fists and groaned.

"Something troubling you?" Allison asked as Carlo closed and locked the door with more force than necessary.

"Surely you're not planning to parade around in front of a bunch of undercover cops wearing
that."

She caressed a well-defined hip. "What's wrong with this dress?"

Carlo let his gaze linger on her sexy shoes, and travel back to her hemline before murmuring, "For one thing, there's not enough of it."

"Relax, Detective. This is what I always wear to openings and press parties. As soon as your Captain walks into this room I expect to have him eating out of my hand."

And loving it, too.
"That's what I'm worried about."

"We're attending a convention, so get over it, and while you're at it, please try to blend in with the crowd. You're so uptight any minute I expect those shiny uniform buttons to start popping off your muscular chest."

He glanced uncertainly at his clean, crisp shirt, and squared his shoulders. "My orders are to keep you safe, woman, not win a popularity contest."

Reaching up, she attempted to run her fingers along his beginning to bristle cheek and lowered her voice seductively. "You
could
do both."

Like his grandpa's nervous mare, he shied away. "I plan to shave before your party. Will that please you?"

A knock sounded at the door. "I'll get it. This should be your visiting
conference friends."
He checked the peephole and opened the door. "Miss Marble, some ladies are here to see you," he said, tongue in cheek, and whispered to the undercover officers, "Thanks for coming so quickly."

"Hi," Miss Marble said as if she were greeting good friends. "I couldn't wait for you to get here. Are you all checked in?"

"I've been here for ages. We just came from the goody room. Have you been there yet? Take a gander at all the free books we latched onto and weep."

"I hope you left some for me." Allison peered into their shopping bag. "Oh, Karen Robards. I adore her romantic suspense novels."

"I'll take it from here," Carlo muttered. "You can cool it a while," he said to Allison. She glared at him.

Ignoring her, he dumped the contents of the shopping bag on the second bed. He didn't care if he had upset her. Miss Marble's constant chatter rattled his nerves.

She turned on the TV, loud, to cover their hushed conversation.

Officer Mullins grabbed the empty evidence bag now visible on top of the pile of books. "Why don't I tie an evidence tag on this gym bag while you enter the tag number in the evidence log?" she whispered.

When he finished, he opened the evidence bag, stuffed the tagged gym bag inside and sealed it tight.

The quiet, blonde, undercover officer he barely knew moved to his side, tossed Miss Marble the Karen Robards book, and piled the other books back into the shopping bag.

"Guard this bag like you would a Brink's truck," Carlo instructed quietly and thanked the officers again as he walked them to the door.

"We will. We know the drill," Officer Mullins assured him.

"Thank you," Allison whispered to her pretend friends. "You don't know how glad I am to see that bag leave my room."

"Love your shoes," the no longer quiet blonde said.

Miss Marble tapped one pointed toe. "Aren't these to die for?"

Not if I have my way,
Carlo thought.

"I'll look for you at the Welcoming Party," she said as the officers stepped out into the hall and her door swung shut behind them.

"What Welcoming Party?" he asked, scowling.

"The wine and dessert party to open the conference. Everyone in attendance is invited. I wouldn't dare miss it."