Sizzle in the City (18 page)

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Authors: Wendy Etherington

Tags: #Flirting With Justice

BOOK: Sizzle in the City
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How he thought he’d get through with a suitcase full of cash, Trevor had no idea. Panic and bad judgment were Max’s forte.

Badges flipped out, Antonio and his compatriots approached Max. He stumbled and tried to look shocked and innocent, though he was clearly sweating and guilty. Smooth as silk, the cops took him by his arms and relieved him of the briefcase, escorting him to the far end of the facility with only a few passengers and airline employees even noticing the disturbance.

* * *

A
S
D
ETECTIVE
A
NTONIO
and his group approached a door tucked behind one of the airline check-ins, Trevor walked up to them. “Good afternoon, Detective. You’ve been busy.”

“Well, well, if it isn’t the Nosy Caterer and her band of happy chicks.” He smiled sardonically at Trevor. “Plus one rooster.”

Trevor knew their chances of getting information out of the police were brief, so he held his reaction to Antonio’s insult in check. “Do you mind if we tag along? We’ve been trying to get in touch with you.”

“Yeah, I got your messages.” His gaze swept the group, pausing ever-so-briefly on Calla. “Come on.”

One of the guys with Antonio opened the door with a key card, then led them all inside the airport security offices. With little fanfare, they moved past the main desk and down a hall.

That’s when Max’s head whipped around. He glared at Trevor as he struggled like a scalded cat. The cops on either side, being bigger, stronger and obviously experienced with various criminals, subdued and cuffed him with almost no effort.

“You!” Max screamed at Trevor. “You did this.”

“Swindled millions through nonexistent investment schemes?” Trevor lifted his eyebrows. “I don’t think so, dear brother.”

“You’re such an idiot.” Max’s mouth twisted, his eyes glittered with rage. “You don’t know half of what I’ve done. I can get away with anything I want. I’m the future earl.”

In shock, Trevor found no clever words came to his lips. The brother he knew, the charming, not-so-clever boy had fallen away, leaving a desperate, hate-filled crook.

“And
her.
” Max jerked his head toward Shelby. “I knew exactly who she was at the condo meeting. That’s why I decided to cash out and go back to London. These cops can’t touch me there.”

In his rage, Max had somehow failed to grasp that he was very much in American custody and getting to London wouldn’t be as easy as strolling onto a jet.

“I helped you because you’re family,” Trevor said, keeping his tone even, though he felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. “How could you do this to Father?”

His face mottled, Max lunged toward Trevor, only to have the cops subdue him once again. “Traitor! That’s what you are. I don’t know what you said to Father to get him to go along with your stupid little domestic there, but you can bet I’ll tell him all about your ridiculous traps. He’ll have me out of here in less than an hour.”

Trevor pitied him, since he knew that wasn’t going to happen. But he also longed to strike back. Nobody insulted Shelby.

And they still had the winning hand. While Max might have recognized Shelby, their plan had accomplished its goal—Max was right where he belonged.

Leaning toward his brother, Trevor let his own fury show. “You can bet I’ve learned my lesson about helping you. You’re on your own from now on.”


Wrong.
I can’t wait to watch Father force you to clean up behind me. Again.” Max laughed as the cops forced him down the hall. “See you soon, little brother.”

In the midst of his disappointment and anger, Trevor had the odd sensation of being tossed back in time.

He recalled a birthday he was supposed to spend with his mother, but instead had been jarringly sent back to Westmore Manor because his mother had decided to spend the time in Puerto Rico with her latest lover.

The earl had welcomed Trevor back home with his usual dignity and restrained pleasure. Max, however, hadn’t been the least thrilled.

Resentment had flashed in Max’s eyes. He’d clearly wanted Father, and the attention, all to himself.

Should they have figured out then how far down he would go, how greedy and lacking in conscience he’d eventually become? Maybe Trevor would ask himself that question for the rest of his life.

Shelby squeezed his hand, bringing him back to reality.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held on. Max had made his own bed.
She
was his future.

“Always liked a good family reunion,” Antonio commented.

The detective took Trevor, Shelby and her friends into one room, while the other two cops ushered Max into another one.

“How did you find him?” the detective asked, standing while everyone else found a seat in the small conference room.

“How did you know he was coming here?” Trevor returned.

Antonio shook his head. “You first.”

Even with chicks and a rooster present, Trevor wasn’t in the mood for a game of chicken. He only wanted to know what was going to happen now.

So he recounted the condo-development project and the trap they’d subsequently laid for Max.

“Inside connections at the bank, huh?” Antonio nodded. “Not bad—for civis.”

“And we’ll be perfectly happy to go back to being civilians,” Shelby said, “if you’ll tell us why you’re finally arresting Max.”

The detective propped his hip on the table. “Oh, I have a long list of charges I’ll be filing. While you people were attending fancy parties at the hotel and doing some really obvious and lousy surveillance, I was doing my job.”

Calla gave him a shaky smile. “We never doubted you—”

“What do you mean lousy surveillance?” Victoria broke in.

“Nice car,” he answered. “The salary difference between PR execs and cops is a crying shame.”

“Detective, please.” Shelby’s hands were clenched so tightly, her knuckles had turned white. “What’s going on?”

Trevor laid his hand on Shelby’s thigh as Antonio explained what he’d been doing while the Robin Hood gang was organizing their sting operation.

Based on Mrs. Rosenburg’s complaint, plus the evidence Shelby had gathered, he’d gotten a court order to search and bug Max’s office, which allowed them to learn about Max’s gambling problem.

In addition to swindles and schemes, which the police had gotten his bank records to prove, he’d borrowed against the value of the hotel to pay off heavy gambling debts. The detective was certain he could bring Max in for questioning and get a confession, since, with the questionable people he owed money to, jail was the safest place for him.

“But Max got a call from his bookie this morning, warning him that he’d run out of patience. Max, who’d spent the last few days preparing for a trip, buying a one-way plane ticket to London, cashing checks at various banks all over town, hung up and called the airline to move up his flight to today.” The detective shrugged. “I decided it was time to show my hand.”

Trevor looked at the women around him, all stunned and just a bit disappointed. While they’d thought they were so clever with their disguises and vigilante plans, the police had been quietly building their case all along. Their surveillance had been organized, sophisticated and yielded actual results.

Antonio sensed their letdown. “The fact that he’s got all this stolen cash on him will add to my case, though, so nice job there. And now I know why he was planning to head to London in the first place—more bad disguises on Miss Dixon.”

“So we helped,” Calla said slowly.

“Sure. I’ll let Miss Dixon’s parents know when Banfield’s assets have been sold off. They should get their original investment back.” The detective scowled. “But do me a favor and go back to your catering, writing, advertising, transporting and whatever. This kind of thing is best left to the professionals.”

* * *

A
GLASS
OF
SCOTCH
IN
his hands, Trevor watched Shelby pace his living room.

“Do you think we helped at all?” she asked. “Or was Antonio just blowing smoke up our skirts?”

“I’m not wearing a skirt.” And the shock of seeing his brother’s complete lack of conscience had him way more agitated than the detective’s thorough and professional investigation. “Sit down and have a drink with me.”

She looked at his extended hand, then away. “Don’t you want to go see him?”

“I called a lawyer, just as my father asked me to. Max will likely spend the night in jail and be arraigned in the morning. He may have to stay there until the trial, considering he’s a flight risk.”

“And you’re not upset?”

“Hell, yes, I’m upset. Come here and comfort me.”

He’d said it to make her smile. She didn’t.

She crossed her arms over her middle, as if she were ill. “I can’t be a countess.”

He set aside his glass. “A countess? What are you talking about?”

“Max is going to jail. Won’t he get disinherited or something? You’ll be the earl. You have to go out with ladies, maybe even princesses. I’m not either.”

Her voice had risen to a high-strung pitch. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. At least he knew what had been bothering her the last few days. “Max won’t be disinherited. The title will come to him on my father’s death, even if he’s in prison. That’s the law. My father’s hale and hearty, as you’ve seen, by the way. What’s this really about?”

“We’re too different. We’re never going to work out. You’re nobility. I’m a caterer.”

He fought to hold on to his patience. Whatever reaction he’d expected from her, this certainly wasn’t it. He’d put a bottle of champagne in the icebox, for pity’s sake. “I’m not nobility, as I’ve explained several times. I’m a man. One who—”

“A mogul, then. Wouldn’t your father be happier if you dated a polished English lady?”

The grim finality in her tone pushed him to his feet. “My father genuinely likes you, as if that even matters.” He tried to draw her into his arms, but she jerked back, and a fissure of panic darted through him.

His touch rejected, he slid his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “You’re very much a lady, and I’ll buy you a damn crown if you want to be a princess.”

Her gaze flew to his. “No. I don’t.” She whirled away. “We don’t belong together.”

His heart stopped for several beats.

“You can see that, can’t you?” she asked, rushing on, unaware that her doubt was crushing him. She flung her arms in the air as she faced him again. “We have nothing in common. I don’t belong in this place. You volunteered yourself and
the Earl of Westmore
as tuxedoed waiters for one of my catering events. I can’t do that to you. It isn’t right.”

“Neither I, nor the bloody Earl of Westmore, are afraid of hard work.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Tears flooded her eyes. “I got your brother arrested. Have you already forgotten that?”

“You’re not putting Max between us anymore. I helped put him there, and I don’t regret it.” On some level he understood her guilt. He should have done something about Max sooner. He should have understood how far his brother had fallen. But they shouldn’t be blaming each other, they should be turning to each other, not away. “Can we not talk about him for once? For one night?”

“I don’t see how.”

“Sure you do. We change the subject.” He walked to her, laying his hands on her shoulders. “I love you.”

Fear, not happiness, leaped into her eyes. “You don’t mean that. You’re upset.”

His heart breaking into pieces, he shot back, “I do mean it.”

Had he honestly expected her to fall into his arms, confess her undying love and they’d live happily ever after?

Yes, he had.

“We started this relationship on a lie,” she reminded him.

“I don’t care.”

“I do.” She grabbed her bag off the coffee table and headed down the hall. “We need some time apart. Time to figure out if this is real or not.”

“I don’t.”

She turned, and a tear slid down her cheek. “I do.”

He pressed his lips together to keep from begging her to stay. “I’ll be here.”

She said nothing, the door clicking shut her only response.

* * *

B
REATHING
AS
IF
SHE

D
RUN
a mile, Shelby stumbled out of the elevator and into the lobby of Trevor’s building. “What am I doing?” she muttered. “Where am I going?”

He loved her. Seriously?
No freakin’ kidding?

Hope and happiness she hadn’t let herself feel earlier washed over her. Trevor didn’t say things he didn’t mean. He didn’t do things he didn’t want to.

“Can I help you, Ms. Dixon?” Fred asked.

“I— No. I just— I need a minute.”

She wandered to the front windows and pressed her forehead against the glass.

Her dreams had literally come true. Max in jail; Trevor returning her love.

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