CHAPTER TWELVE

Before I made contact, I shut my eyes tight, not caring to see if I cracked my assailant’s skull, shoulder, or back. The broom was ripped out of my hands, and I was yanked in hard against a firm chest.

I opened my eyes, ready to scream. “Jock!”

He looked down into my face. “You were expecting someone else?”

I gave his leather-clad chest a stern whack. “You scared me half to death! How did you know I was standing here?”

“Saw your shadow.” He gestured to the floor, then held the broom in the air like it was a toothpick. “What were you planning on doing with this?”

Wiseass. “I was going to clobber you with it.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I thought you were going to attack me. More specifically, I thought you were Ziggy Stoaks.”

He considered this. “Yeah. I could see where you’d think that.” He strolled over to the dispensary, leaned the broom against the wall, then turned and raked his gaze over my entire body. I instantly folded my arms across my breasts, the heat from Jock’s stare making me feel like I was posing in a lace thong with pasties on my nipples.

He took a step closer, scrutinizing my oil-soaked hair. “I heard about what happened after you left the prison today.”

I gave a thin laugh, thinking about the day I’d had. “You mean the illustration on the front window? Or the shooting at Kuruc’s?”

“Both.”

Of course he’d heard. It was like an APB had been posted on me and Jock had made it his duty to locate where I was.

He turned his head to the front, then settled his stare back on my face. “You want me to hose down the glass?”

I examined his eyes, trying to guess if this was one of those double entendres he enjoyed employing. Ooh. I set my shoulders straight, hiding the fluttering inside. “Max and I did a thorough job earlier. Thanks.”

He flung his jacket on a dryer chair, then reached over and gathered my hair in his large palm. “What about you?” In a gentle yet sensual motion, he swept the oily ends behind my shoulders. “You want me to give you a shampoo?”

I gulped back a tremor, remembering what almost took place the last time Jock shampooed my hair. “No, thank you,” I rushed out quickly. “I like it this way.”

The sexy look on his face told me he remembered the incident, too. More, he didn’t believe a word I said. He moved in closer, not hiding the grin creeping in. “You telling the truth?”

I stared up into his eyes, holding back the moan from gazing at the caramel-on-dark-chocolate speckling his irises. “Yes?” I uttered, trying to stay grounded, a challenge around Jock.

He chuckled, then nodded toward the hall. “You know you’ve got a stowaway sleeping in Ti Amo?”

I spun toward the back. “Tantig!” With Jock strutting in on the scene, I’d forgotten all about her.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “She’s dead to the world.”

I peered back up at him. “Would you kindly not use the term…dead?”

He leaned against the wall, smiling at my words.

I avoided letting my gaze sweep down his powerful body and refused to admire his seductive pose, both of which would make any healthy female swoon. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

His smile broadened. “Checking to see what time you want me to pick you up tonight.”

“Pick me up?”

He folded his arms in front, his tight-knit shirt stretching to accommodate his muscles. “You forget our deal already?”

“Ha.” I squeaked so high I hardly recognized my voice.

He moved in and took my hand in his warm grasp, his virile scent weakening my knees. “I believe we shook on it earlier.”

I swallowed hard, glancing from his hand that engulfed mine back up into his eyes. I hadn’t forgotten my promise about a nighttime ride on his bike. I was simply hoping he’d forgotten. Of course, that was like wishing diamonds would fall from the sky.

I slid my hand out of his grasp, Max’s remark about riding positions on Jock’s Harley popping to mind.

I squeezed my thighs together, attempting to look cool and calm. “In light of everything that’s happened today, it’s best we rethink this.”

His eyebrows went up ever so slightly. “Are you canceling on me, Miss Valentine?”

Tingles spread down my spine at the way he said my name. “No.” I stepped back from his magnetic aura. “It’s just been a harrowing day. All I want is to go to bed.”

“I can arrange that, too.” He winked.

I forced down a nervous giggle before it erupted from my lips.

“I think you need something to get your mind off today’s events.” He let that sink in. “Trust me. This will be good for you.”

I studied his face, debating the wisdom of his words.

My back still ached from falling hard on Kuruc’s floor, my mind was working overtime on Ziggy’s whereabouts, and I was on edge about what my future held. If I toured around Rueland with Jock, it was certain I’d be wrapped in his safety cocoon. No harm would come to me, and that was a soothing thought.

I glanced at the clock. Five minutes to seven. “I have to take Tantig back to my parents’ and go home and shower.”

He gestured over my shoulder. “I can take Tantig home.”

“Ha. You mean on your bike?”

He looked at me. Dead serious.

“It’s okay. If my mother knew I let Tantig ride a motorcycle, I’d be skinned alive.”

He smoothed the back of his hand against my jawline. “I like your skin the way it is.”

Gulp.

He slanted close and brushed his lips across my cheek, his stubble tickling my face. “I’ll be at your door, then, by eight-thirty.”

* * *

I dropped Tantig off at my parents’ with the usual amount of aggravation. My father was still bowling, but my mother had enough to say for both of them. Why was I so late? Why was Tantig’s hair pink? Why did I bring home two jars of grape leaves?

I crushed the desire to snatch a Turtle brownie cooling on the counter and explained there was a confrontation with a lunatic at Kuruc’s. Without going into detail, I told my mother that tomato flew into Tantig’s hair, and Sam Kuruc gave me an extra jar of grape leaves to make up for what we’d been through.

I didn’t tell her the lunatic had pointed a gun in my face, that I was alive because of the grace of God and a tube of hand cream, and that I’d fallen, hit my head, and seen stars. She could watch the eleven o’clock news for the juicier bits.

“Here,” she said after I gave Tantig a hug goodbye, “take some turkey and pilaf home. We’ve been eating leftovers for days.”

She pulled two containers from the fridge and covered the brownies with foil. “And take these brownies. I was going to bring them to the Christmas bazaar, but the church committee told me four dozen squares would be enough.” She waved her hand at the kitchen table that overflowed with baked goods. “Guess I overdid it.”

My mother baked to the limit when things weren’t right in her world. Today, the worry was over me being involved in another homicide. An abundance of squares for the Christmas bazaar was one thing. Baking enough to feed China was another.

I didn’t wait around to see what she’d make after she learned the full story on the Kuruc’s shooting. I accepted the brownies and the containers of turkey and pilaf, and after a quick kiss on the cheek, I dashed out the door.

* * *

By the time I hauled myself into the house, I had pecans in my hair and gooey caramel stuck to my clothes. I’d devoured two brownies on the drive home and was so busy licking my fingers, I didn’t see the pothole on Jarvis. What the hell. Add it to the list of goop already glued to me. Heck, add it to the number of things that had gone wrong today.

Without warning, my thoughts shifted to my looming date with Jock. What was I thinking accepting this invitation? I had an escaped convict to catch and evidence to find. I didn’t have time to roar around town on Jock’s bike like a groupie hanging onto a star. Darn. How did I get in these messes?

The kicker was, I couldn’t go ten minutes without worrying about my every step. What was Ziggy planning next? And how could I catch him if I couldn’t stay ahead of him? Never mind catching him, how could I find him with the little information I had? He might be crazy, but he was also smart. That meant I had to be smarter.

I slipped off my shoes, threw on all the lights, and took a good look around my modest Cape Cod bungalow. Piano was still standing. Furniture hadn’t been touched. Everything else seemed in place. I’d passed a cruiser rolling down my street and felt a certain amount of relief there’d be no surprises once I entered the house. Still, I wasn’t as carefree as Rhoda like my mother insisted.

I dropped my bag by the piano and tossed my care packages in the fridge. Then I sloughed out of my jacket and pants, and called for my cat, Yitts. I had an hour to get ready for my adventure with Jock and showering was next, but I wasn’t going anywhere without first saying hello to my furry roommate.

Yitts came out from under the couch, stopped in the middle of the living room, and blinked her green eyes at the bright lights. Yawning, she stretched her paws forward on the floor.

“Hard day at the office?” I wasn’t about to tell her how my day had panned out.

She wove her sleek black body around my bare legs, wanting a snuggle and some food.

I picked her up, gave her a kiss, and inhaled the floral scent of my Musk perfume that seemed to permeate her fur after I sprayed myself each morning. Ahh. A breath of fresh air compared to how I currently smelled.

I draped her on my shoulders like a shawl, embracing her warmth.

Out of the blue, the warmth turned to a chill, and I was back at Kuruc’s, facing a crazed gunman. Was it Ziggy? Was he responsible for the dildo delivery? The window drawing?

It was like he’d escaped to wreak havoc in my life. Then he’d disappeared into thin air. Had he gone back under the rock he’d crawled out from? Had he stolen a car and fled Rueland?

I tried to think logically where Ziggy was concerned. Only problem was there was no logic to any of this. He was out of control, determined to kill me. Well, he’d almost succeeded. I shuddered, wishing I had a lead so I could send him back to prison and end this insanity.

I puffed out a heavy sigh, hiked into the kitchen, and went for the turkey container. I took a bite of dark meat, ripped off a piece for Yitts, and held it to her mouth. She nosed it for a long moment, probably wondering if something better was coming. She finally ate the morsel but didn’t get all happy about it. Yitts wasn’t a world-class carnivore. Give her pineapple or cantaloupe, and we’d have something to talk about. I put her down, fed her some niblets, and left her alone to eat.

I went back into the living room, working up my courage to look through my “Rhoda Morgenstern” scarves on my windows at my neighbors’ homes. Pulling onto the street earlier, I hadn’t thought to note if anything was new in the neighborhood since I’d left this morning. Standing ten feet from the window wasn’t going to tell me anything either.

I drew the scarves back and peered outside, letting my eyes adjust to the streetlights funneling down on the homes. I gave Mrs. Calvino’s place to the right a quick glance. Only smoke signals coming from her direction. Nothing new there.

Several neighbors had put out their garbage for tomorrow. That was new since this morning. Mr. Brooks, across from me, had burlap tied around a small evergreen near his front door. That was new. As was the kid’s bike left on the lawn four doors down. Yet none of this told me anything vital about Ziggy or the dildo.

I peeked to the left at Mrs. Lombardi’s. It was in darkness. But that didn’t mean a thing. If I traipsed across the street and rapped on her door, she’d rip it open like she’d been standing there all along. Heck, she was probably looking at me through her binoculars right now.

I leaped back from the window at that thought and dimmed the lights.

A quiver went through me as I pondered asking Mrs. Lombardi anything. Maybe I’d call Mr. Brooks first. I tiptoed back to the window and saw that his living room light was still on.

I plopped onto the black beanbag chair and grabbed the handset off my Pooh phone.

“Sorry, dear,” Mr. Brooks said. “There must be a bad connection. I thought I heard you say you had a dildo delivery.”

After an awkward few minutes of conversation, it was apparent Mr. Brooks hadn’t seen a thing. I tried Mrs. Lombardi next and got a sermon from the mount. No answer as to whether she’d seen anything suspicious this morning when she walked her poodle, Chester. Just self-righteous condemnation on my predicament.

I called Officer Ray Donoochi and a few other neighbors but came up empty when I mentioned this morning’s delivery. It was Sunday, after all. Mass for some. Sleeping in for others. At least Ray promised he and his teenage sons would keep a lookout. This provided some comfort. Jake and Leo were strong, tough boys who’d come to my rescue before.

It was a tossup whether I’d bother with Mrs. Calvino. I didn’t know much about my smoky neighbor except she was divorced, had grown children, and supported tobacco farms. She spent most of her days tarring up her lungs on her front porch. When it got too cold out, she moved the party inside.

I dialed her number anyway. What could it hurt? No one else was any help.

Dragging out a cough, she told me she didn’t get out for her morning ritual today because her son had delivered an air purifier first thing.

I asked if I could speak to her son. Maybe he’d seen something when he arrived at her house. She agreed and told me Dom worked at Lumber Mart. Best to visit him there since he’d rather she didn’t hand out his number. I thanked her and made a mental note to visit Dom first thing in the morning.

Grateful that I had somewhat of a lead, I dialed Max next.

“I’m spending the night at Jimmy’s,” he said.

I coiled the phone cord around my finger. “What for?”

He let out a rueful sigh. “This bread-baking business is no easy job. We made a nice loaf today, but it took forever to understand the machine. Now that we think we’ve got it, I want to make pizza dough tomorrow morning.”

“If you’re sure…” Not that I was looking for an excuse to postpone my date with Jock, but I did promise I’d take Max home.

“I’m sure. It’ll probably be noon before we’re done.” He paused, and I sensed we were moving on from pizza dough. “When is your big night on that exotic machine?” His tone was mischievous. “And I don’t mean on the Harley.”

I didn’t want to get Max going again on Jock’s intentions or delve into what had happened to me today at Kuruc’s, so I told him my ride was tonight and we’d talk tomorrow.

“Keep me posted,” he said. “I want updates.”

I hung up, jumped in the shower, and washed my hair. Once I smelled pretty again, I brushed my teeth, fixed my makeup, put on new earrings, and slipped into jeans, a light-weave turtleneck, and suede boots. No time to fuss with my hair, so I swept it to the side and wove it into a loose braid.

I didn’t think I was looking forward to this outing. But riding into the night with the wind on my face seemed like the perfect antidote for this horrible day. Maybe the crisp air would give me a fresh outlook on life. Maybe the ride would offer clues to help solve this case.

I had five minutes to spare before Jock arrived, so I sat at the piano in the living room and flipped open the lid. After rotating my shoulders and cracking my knuckles, I hammered out a classical piece.

The fear and frustration I’d endured today worked itself from my neck, down my arms, and out my fingertips. The harder I pounded the keys, the calmer I felt.

Suddenly, there was a curt knock on the door. I screamed bloody murder, clapped a hand to my heart, and flung the piano lid down. Whew! So much for being calm.

I took a deep breath, got myself under control, then strode to the front window. Jock was a few minutes early. Couldn’t say the same thing for him at work since he came and went like the wind, so this was impressive.

I cocked an ear for my wind chimes that had been tinkling in the breeze. But they’d come to a complete halt. No clinking. No jingling.

I peeked outside, a tingle spreading through me in anticipation. But it wasn’t Jock standing on my porch.

Figured. Next to God, there was only one person who had the power to intimidate wind chimes. And he was standing on the other side of the door.