The Bachelor Pact (84 page)

Lance was going to kill him.

He’d seen the inside of a cell when he was a teenager, but that was half a lifetime ago when he’d been angry and rebellious.

Now he had a business with his brother and was respected in the community. If his arrest got out, it could cause problems for their company.

A prisoner in the next holding cell banged on the bars, ranting about aliens while two drunks in the cell next to him demolished Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall with their slurred singing.

Reid gripped the bars and bellowed his innocence. “Give me my phone call. I’m innocent.”

“Shut up,” the alien guy said.

He yelled again, but no one came. Dammit, why wouldn’t they listen to him?

Did he look like a crazed stalker?

The tattooed skinhead in the cell with him played drums on his legs with his hands while a cross-dresser in a Mrs. Santa outfit whined in the corner, insisting he hadn’t been soliciting in front of the fancy B & B where he’d been picked up.

It was going to be a long damn night.

He stared at the clock and paced the cell. But as the minutes rolled into hours and midnight struck, his mind traveled down a dark path.

If the police thought he was stalking Lucy, they had a reason. The fact that she’d rushed him away added to his anxiety.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t actually seen her leave her apartment.

What if something had happened to her?

He mentally reviewed the facts. She was upset after that phone call the other morning. And tonight, her clothes and shoes had been scattered all over the place as if someone had rifled through them. As if someone was staying there.

Either Lucy was cheating on him, or she was…in trouble.

He gripped the bars of the cell and yelled for the guard. He just couldn’t sit in this cell and rot if Lucy needed him.

“I need my phone call,” he yelled again.

The skinhead next to him laughed. “Good luck with that one, buddy. They usually make you wait twenty-four hours.”

Twenty-four hours?

Reid yelled again and banged on the bars until his voice was hoarse. But the skinhead was right.

No one came.

Finally he sank onto the floor in the corner and closed his eyes. He’d tough it out tonight, but in the morning, they’d better give him his call.

He just hoped something bad hadn’t happened to Lucy.

Lucy laughed as the women gathered around, listening to Ellen read sex tips from a book on sex for seniors that she’d received in her Secret Santa gift bag.

“Do you have a boyfriend, Taylor?” Sue asked.

Lucy polished off her peppermint martini. “Well, yes, I do.”

“What is he like?” DeEtte asked.

“I bet he’s a hunk with a six-pack,” Nelda said.

“Yeah, and not one with Bud’s name on it,” Ellen joked.

“Are you two doing the deed?” Mae asked.

Lucy laughed. “You mean sex?”

Willene narrowed her eyes. “You don’t have to get personal, Mae. Just because getting laid is all you think about doesn’t mean everyone else thinks about it all the time.”

“I wished men thought about it more,” Sue mumbled.

“Of course they’re doing it,” DeEtte said. “All the young folks do it.”

“You know what they say about not buying the cow if you’ve had the milk,” Ellen said.

“That’s just old fashioned,” Mae said.

“Taylor?” DeEtte said. “Is he good to you? I mean does he
satisfy
you?”

Lucy blushed. “Well, yes, he does,” she said, remembering the wicked things he did with his tongue. “It’s just…I don’t know if he wants to ever get married.”

“Oh, no, one of those commitaholis,” Sue offered.

“
Commitaphobics
,” Ellen corrected.

“You have to give them a little incentive,” Mae said.

Willene frowned. “I don’t think baking pies works for the young kids.”

“My coconut cake gets me some loving every time, “ Ellen said.

Inez made a tsking sound to Ellen. “But we’re talking about marriage, not getting someone in the sack.”

Nelda raised her eyebrows and winked. “Honey, the secret is to keep him guessing.”

Ellen murmured Amen. “Yep, keep him fed and sexed up, and he’ll be faithful.”

Lucy fidgeted. All this talk about sex only made her ache for Reid. “Thanks for all the advice, ladies, but I’m going to turn in now.” Although she might ask Ellen and Mae for their recipes later. She had conquered the sex thing, but she couldn’t cook worth a damn.

“Don’t forget your Secret Santa bag,” Mae said as Lucy stood.

Lucy eyed it as if she thought spiders might crawl out of it any minute, but retrieved it and headed to the door.

The women dispersed, agreeing that Ellen would pass her new book around when she was finished.

The clock struck midnight, and Lucy scanned the Sunset Vista property as she carried the Secret Santa bag back to her unit.

Everyone in the group had a Secret Santa except her.

So who had left her a gift?

She checked over her shoulder again, then let herself inside the condo and flipped on the light. Nerves skittered through her as she scanned the living room/kitchen combination. Everything looked the same. The plain beige walls and sofa, the bowl of fruit Wallace had ordered to be sent to the condo, the painting of the seashore, and the calendar that reminded her how many days she’d been gone.

And how many days until Christmas day.

Frustrated that Wallace hadn’t caught Emmet, she checked the bathroom and bedroom. Her underwear drawer was closed. A good sign Emmet hadn’t been here.

The photo she’d brought with her of Reid stared at her from the bedside table. Tears threatened, but she swallowed them back.

Wallace would catch Emmet soon. He had to. Then she could go home and everything would be all right.

Resigned, she walked back to the kitchen, fixed herself a cosmo, then

pushed the tissue paper in her gift bag aside. Surprise stole through her as she lifted a slinky red halter dress from inside.

A card fluttered to the floor, and she picked it up and read it.

A pretty dress for a beautiful woman.

A shiver rippled through her. It was exactly the type of sexy dress Emmet would have chosen.

Had he found her?

Her finger shook as the punched Wallace’s number. He didn’t answer, so she left a message.

“Call me. I have to know if Emmet’s found me.”

Her hand trembled as she stuffed the dress back inside the bag.

Then she carried her drink to her patio. A cruise boat sailed by, Christmas lights twinkling. Voices and laughter drifted to her in the breeze. A party was on board, Christmas carols wafting through the air.

Lucy had never seen anything so beautiful in her life.

But she had never been so lonely either.

Twice she’d walked along Venetian Drive down to Atlantic and strolled the streets, which were filled with tourists and locals enjoying the coffee shops and restaurants. She’d even gotten a little shopping in.

Yet each step she’d taken, she’d searched the crowd for Emmet, afraid he was watching her.

Even now, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was lurking in one of those small fishing boats docked along the pier.

2
days until Christmas

Reid woke to the sound of a rhinoceroses growling. No, a pack of them.

A symphony of similar sounds roared through the cellblock, reminding him he hadn’t spent the night in his own bed.

That he’d been arrested for stalking the woman he loved.

It was also Christmas Eve, he had no gift for Lucy, and not a clue where she was.

Footsteps clattered, the sound of a baton banging the cell doors echoing, then a guard stopped in front of him. “Reid Summers. Come with me. A federal marshal wants to talk to you.”

Reid’s heart tripped a beat. A federal marshal?

Keys jangled as the guard unlocked the cell door and gestured for Reid to go with him. Reid followed beside the man, reminding himself to remain calm.

If he acted like a crazed person, they’d lock him back up.

Five minutes later he was seated in an interrogation room, his handcuffed hands splayed on the table. A low light hung over the scarred table, the room bare except for the table and three straight chairs.

He tapped his foot on the floor while he waited, straightening when a tall silver-haired man entered. His face looked slightly haggard, his eyes steely gray.

“Mr. Summers,” he said. “My name is Marshal Bannister.”

“What’s going on?” Reid asked.

Marshal Bannister folded his arms. “What were you doing in Lucy Lane’s apartment?”

Frustration knotted every muscle in Reid’s body. “She’s my girlfriend.”

The marshal’s eyes flickered with interest. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Reid said. “We’ve been dating for the past few months.”

“Hmm.” The marshal studied him. “She didn’t mention you to me.”

“Why would she?” Reid asked. For cripes sake, surely Lucy wasn’t two-timing him with this crusty codger.

Marshal Bannister leaned forward. “Listen, Mr. Summers, this is serious. According to the police, you broke in and Miss Lane’s clothing and shoes had been strewn across her bed and closet.”

“First of all, Lucy showed me where she keeps the spare key,” Reid said. Although come to think of it, why hadn’t she given him a key? Because she didn’t want him catching her with another man? “And second, I didn’t make that mess.”

“When did you last see Lucy?”

Reid mentally counted back the days. “Six days ago. I spent the night with her, then she received a phone call from her agent saying he’d scheduled an audition for Lucy. She packed in a hurry and I left. I haven’t heard from her since.”

“So what were you doing at her place last night?”

He hesitated. If Lucy was trying to dump him, he was going to look like the biggest fool ever.

“Mr. Summers?” Marshal Bannister said tersely.

“I wanted to surprise her with a Christmas tree.”

The man’s mouth tightened, but Reid thought he was fighting a smile. “Was anyone at her apartment when you arrived?”

“No,” Reid answered. “At least I didn’t find anyone there. But the stove was hot as if someone had just used it, and there was a bubble bath waiting in the tub.”

“You didn’t run the bath?” Marshal Bannister asked.

Reid shot up from the table, his anger churning. “Hell, no. When I saw it, I thought maybe…never mind.”

“Maybe what?”

Reid paced to the wall and turned to face the Marshal. “That maybe Lucy lied to me, that she hadn’t left town. That she was seeing someone else.” If the man was seeing Lucy would he fess up now?

Marshal Bannister made a low sound in his throat, then glanced at his phone. A knock sounded at the door, then another officer stepped inside, leaned over and whispered something in the man’s ear. Bannister cursed, then stood.

“Excuse me, I need to make a phone call.”

“Wait just a damn minute,” Reid said. “What the hell is going on? The cops accused me of stalking Lucy. Why would they think I was a stalker?”

Bannister tugged at his tie, indecision on his face.

“I have a right to know,” Reid said. “Did something happen to Lucy?”

“I hope not,” Bannister said. “But you are free to go, Mr. Summers.”

Perspiration beaded on Reid’s neck. “What does that mean? You
hope
nothing happened to her?”
“Just go home,” Bannister said. “And let the police take care of the situation.”

“Take care of what situation?”

But Bannister didn’t answer. He was already punching a number on his phone as he left the room. The guard gestured for him to follow him, then escorted Reid through security. His handcuffs were removed, and a heavyset woman in a uniform handed him his personal items.

He grabbed his phone and keys, then hurried outside.

Dammit, he didn’t have a way home. He’d have to call Lance.

No, he didn’t want Lance to know what had happened.

He dialed Lucy’s number and prayed she’d answer and tell him that this whole mess was a big misunderstanding. But the phone rang and rang, then a recording clicked on saying her message box was full.

So she hadn’t been picking up her messages?

That was odd. Lucy’s car didn’t crank unless she was on her cell phone.

Worry knotted his insides as he hunted for a taxi. If the police thought he was stalking Lucy, did that mean she actually had a stalker?

If she did, why hadn’t she told him?