Next to Die (20 page)

“Phew, okay.” She shook off her happy jitters and went to collect her bonus points.
Don’t think. Just throw.

Vinny hushed the others into silence. Lia envisioned home plate again, reared back, and let go. The ball did exactly the same thing as last time. With a scream of delight, she jumped into Vinny’s arms, legs locked around his hips, and kissed him.

His arms clamped her into place. Right there in front of God and everybody, he kissed her like he owned her.

Sex could not have been better than that one perfect kiss.

With reluctance, Lia let her legs slip to the floor. She gazed at Vinny, dazed, wondering what had just passed between them.

“Are you
Ophelia
Price?” Lieutenant Lindstrom called, jarring her from her dreamy haze. He had a cell phone tucked under one ear.

“Uh, yeah . . .”
Who wants to know?

“Your sister’s trying to get in touch with you,” he explained, handing her the phone.

“My sister?”

“Here, talk to my wife. Your sister said you were with Vinny today. Luckily, Hannah knew that Vinny was with me.”

Hannah Lindstrom, the FBI agent? Good grief, it was a small world!

As the lieutenant got up to earn a spare, Lia listened to the agent tell her that Eric Tomlinson was dead and that she and Penny might or might not be targeted by his killer.

“What?” she gasped, sinking into a seat. “Why would someone kill Eric? I thought he was the bad guy.”

“We assumed he was the bad guy,” the agent corrected her, “but it seems that your father, and now Eric, was killed by whoever purchased the ricin. You need to return to your home, where the police can keep an eye on you.”

The happiness that had buoyed her up was wrenched away. “I’m on my way,” she said. Out the corner of her eye, she noted Vinny’s grave regard.

Ending the call, she sat a moment processing the awful discovery that someone else, and not Eric, had killed their father. All this time, he’d probably been trying to warn them, not threaten them!
You’ll be sorry
, he’d said, and he was right.

“Lia?” It was Vinny, sliding closer, putting his arm around her. “What’sa matter?”

“I have to go home,” she told him, subdued by shock.

“Why?” he asked, taking the phone from her frozen hands.

She leaned briefly against him, needing his strength. “It’s just, um . . .” She was just inebriated enough to make her thoughts muddy. “I have to go.”

“Okay,” he said. “Sir, I need to take her home,” he relayed to the lieutenant as he passed him back the phone.

“The game’s pretty much over,” Luther Lindstrom pointed out. “Feel free to leave. And thanks for helping us out, ma’am,” he added to Lia.

“Oh, sure,” she said distractedly.

They turned in her shoes and made their way to the parking lot. Lia couldn’t summon a word of small talk. Vinny kept quiet, too. He put her into his passenger seat and started driving.

She was halfway home when she roused from shock enough to realize that her car was parked at his condo. “Oh, not again! I could have driven myself this time.”

“It’s not a problem,” he reassured her.

“But you have to bother your friend to help you, and I hate it when I inconvenience people. He’s going to think I’m some kind of irresponsible—”

“Listen to me,” Vinny cut in. He had a quiet authority about him that made her stop talking. “It’s not a problem,” he repeated. “Now tell me what’s going on that’s got you talking to an FBI agent.”

She wasn’t sure she wanted him to know. For a guy she’d intended to seduce and walk away from, he was managing to make himself look and sound more like a boyfriend, and she was not—repeat, was
not—
going to let that happen. “Don’t worry about it.” She looked out the window to keep from seeing the effect of her words on his face.

The car got dangerously quiet.

As Vinny approached the next intersection, he downshifted, his muffler roaring, and then he executed a U-turn.

Lia’s heart beat faster. She sneaked a glance at him and found his jaw muscles jumping. “Where are we going now?” she asked. It occurred to her that she really didn’t know this man at all. Somehow she wasn’t surprised to discover that he had a temper.

“Back to your car,” he said on a cold note.

Okay. She’d wanted that, but not when he made it sound like it would be over the minute she stepped out of his vehicle. The thought of not seeing him again made her feel like her innards had been ripped out and thrown out the window.

As they screamed along an empty four-lane road, bypassing a school and a playground, Lia struggled for something to say that would keep him dangling. Nothing witty or alluring came to mind.

Vinny hooked a right and they were bearing down on his oceanfront condo. He whipped in behind her car and turned his engine off. “When you’re ready to share your life with me, let me know,” he said. With that, he stepped out of the vehicle, rounded it like a true gentleman, and pulled her door open.

She got out on leaden legs.

He stood intentionally in her way, forcing her to brush by him. Every nerve in her body flexed with awareness. The air seemed to crackle as memories of their last kiss shortened her breath.

Can’t we just have sex and go our separate ways?

She didn’t dare articulate the question. Not only did it belittle their attraction, but it made her seem like a slut. She was beginning to glean that Vinny didn’t do one-night stands. For whatever reason, he wasn’t your typical twenty-year-old opportunist.

On the other hand, how naive could he be, asking her to share her life with him? Young love rarely lasted, and she wasn’t about to invest the best years of her life in a relationship that was doomed to fail.

Hence, it was up to her to do the mature thing and walk away.

“Good-bye, Vinny.” She kissed his cheek, feeling the tension in his jaw. He jammed his hands into his pockets as he watched her get into her own car and take off.

She tried not to look back, but a quick glance in her rearview mirror showed him standing where she’d left him, looking like the rug had been ripped out from under his feet.

“Shit!” Lia swore, striking the steering wheel with her palm. Her body ached with unfulfilled desire, her heart throbbed with the morning’s unexpected happiness, and her conscience swelled with the guilt of how badly she’d treated Vinny in the face of his concern. But Lia couldn’t let herself dwell on any of that.

She had weightier matters to consume her, like whether she and Penny were next on a killer’s hit list.

Chapter Twelve

Joe wasn’t so drunk that he couldn’t walk home. Beneath a moonless sky, the invisible sidewalk felt as treacherous as the mountain pass where his reconnaissance team had run into insurgents. He stumbled over cracks in the cement. Cars sped by him, headlights blinding him, taillights streaming.

The air was clear and cold. It nipped at his ears and went straight through his jeans and sweatshirt. He was in Virginia Beach, right? Not wandering through the Hindu Kush in a delirious haze.

The tang of the ocean and the smell of exhaust reassured him.

Shit, he never should have hit the sports bar after working out at the gym! But the call he’d received from Millington, Tennessee, informing of his new orders, had gotten him so agitated that he’d pushed himself at the gym. Then, instead of going home, he’d showered and driven to the nearest pub.

On his third shot of whiskey, he realized that even with a Saturday-night crowd pressing in on him, he was drinking alone, wallowing in self-doubt, thinking,
What if I get more men killed?

He’d looked around the bar, wanting consolation, an easy stranger to help him forget the awful responsibilities looming before him. Eye contact and a receptive smile would get him what they always had—the company of a beautiful woman. If anything, his disfiguring scar got him more notice than ever from the opposite sex.

It would take very little effort to pick a woman up and take her home. Usually just three words did the trick: Navy SEAL officer. But come morning, nothing would be different. He’d still have this crushing sense of doom weighting him down. The only person in the world who could make him feel better by bolstering his confidence, soothing his self-doubts, was Penny.

The realization had had him pushing aside his drink with relief. He’d paid his tab and left.

But then he’d had to walk the three miles to his house because he was too drunk to drive.

As he turned down the street that led to his subdivision, Joe began to jog. He turned in to his neighborhood at a run, sprinting past his home and through Penny’s yard to the lights shining warmly in her windows.

Twin beams of bright light leaped out of the darkness, accompanied by voices that caught Joe completely by surprise. “Halt! Police! This is the police! Get your hands up! Hands up now! Get your hands up and keep them up!”

Joe tried to stop, but his body was slow to respond as commanding voices closed in on him. Through the glare of blinding lights, he made out two uniformed officers. Their guns were drawn and pointed specifically at him. Joe checked the impulse to launch a counterattack. “What the hell?” he demanded, even as one of them continued to bark orders at him.

“Put your hands behind your head and get down on your knees.”

It dawned on Joe that the police must have set a watch in hopes of catching Eric. “Stupid fuckers,” he muttered, including himself in that number. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen them. He kneeled on the frost-covered grass, his jeans going instantly damp. Every household in the vicinity was witness to what was going on. Son of a bitch.

“Wait!” With relief, Joe looked up to see Penny flying toward him in her slippers and bathrobe. Lia stood at the door with a hand over her mouth.

“Ma’am, stay back! He could be armed!”

“This is not who you’re looking for!” Penny snapped furiously. “This is my neighbor. For God’s sake, stop yelling and waking the entire neighborhood!”

That’s my girl,
thought Joe as she rushed over and helped him to his feet.

“Your neighbor?” repeated the cop. Joe flinched as the man’s flashlight plumbed his eyes.

“Yes, he’s my neighbor,” Penny insisted. “I called him and asked him to come over.”

She secured an arm around Joe’s waist, keeping him steady.

“He was running at your house like he was going to break the door down,” the officer insisted.

“He was out jogging. Weren’t you, Joe?”

“Yep,” he said.

“He’s a Navy SEAL,” she added, throwing out the fact like it was a badge of honor. “He has to keep in shape.”

“Navy SEAL, huh,” said the second cop. “Could I see some ID, please, sir?”

Joe fished out his wallet and handed him his military ID. He detested falling back on rank to pull him out of trouble, but it did the job, every time.

“Oh, sir,” said the first cop, who paled when he noted Joe’s pay grade. “We’re—ah—very sorry to bother you, sir. You have a good night sir. Good night.”

They handed the ID back and beat a hasty retreat to their patrol car. “Huh,” said Penny, clearly confused by the change in their demeanor. “Come on in, Joe. It’s freezing out here.”

He couldn’t wait to step into the warm, cozy house of a woman who hadn’t had sex in five years. Whoa, he wasn’t even supposed to think about that. But was she horny all the time, or had she gotten to the point where she didn’t need it anymore?

Penny shut the door behind them, pulling back to send Joe a searching look. Ophelia had magically disappeared. “You’ve been drinking again,” Penny accused. “And you’ve been in the cold so long your cheeks are chapped. That is just awful for your burn. How do you expect it to heal?”

Damned if he didn’t love being scolded by her! With a quick step forward, Joe pulled her back into his arms and hugged her for warmth and reassurance. Filling his head with her roselike scent, he felt the stress slip right out of him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, tipping her head back to give him a worried look. “Joe?”

“Better now,” he replied.

“Come on in the family room,” she urged. “I’ve got a fire going.”

He loved fires, especially the outdoor kind, under a star-spangled sky in the desert. Squatting before the hearth, he held his fingers to the heat, lost his balance, and landed on his butt. The flames mesmerized him, beating back the self-doubt he’d been wrestling with since the detailer’s call.

“Drink this,” said Penny, reappearing with two mugs. She handed him one, then eased down beside him.

It was fragrant, scalding tea. As he blew on it, he took closer note of her cotton nightgown and blue velour bathrobe. “You were going to bed,” he observed.

“I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway.”

There was something in her voice. “Why not? What’s going on?”

“Eric’s dead.”

His synapses backfired. “Dead? How’d he die?”

“He was shot in the head. It was supposed to look like a suicide, but his car was run off the road, and another set of footprints was found on the scene.”