Chapter Twelve

“Easy, Azalea. It’s just me.”

“Alex?” I mumbled into his hand, my heart banging around like a bat in a cage.

“If I let you go, promise not to scream?”

I let out a breath, blowing air over the hand on my mouth.

“Is that a yes?”

I nodded, narrowly resisting the urge to bite his fingers off.

He released me and I immediately came out swinging, hitting him anywhere I could land a strike.

“I’m sorry. Stop it! Don’t… Ow!” He captured my wrists so I used my feet and knees. “Azalea…ow…watch it…oof—” He let me go and curled up like shrimp, covering his crotch half a second too late.

I swatted him in the shoulder. “What the hell is the matter with you? What are you doing here?” I punctuated each question with another whack. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.” I pushed off the bed and switched on the bedside lamp. It was quite satisfying to see the damage I’d done.

But I was still mad, so I picked up a pillow and hit him again. “Why are you in my room?”

He held up a hand, gasping, his face mottled red.

“You deserve it, you rotten jerk. Never, ever sneak up on a woman in her darkened hotel room.” I threw the pillow against the headboard. “You scared me half to death. My heart’s still racing. Jeez.” I turned away and paced the foot of the bed, trying to calm myself down.

“Sorry,” he wheezed out.

I stopped and glared at him. “You should be.” Pity got the better of me—he just looked so pathetic. “Are you all right?”

“Do you have a permit for that knee?”

Crossing my arms, I cracked a smile. If he was making jokes, he was feeling better. “I’d apologize, but it’s your own fault. Why are you in my room skulking about?”

He leaned up on his elbows to look at me. “I wasn’t skulking. I was sleeping.”

“Why?”

“It’s nighttime?”

“Alex,” I warned.

“There are no more rooms, so I flashed my badge and got James into Vivian’s room.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re in my room.”

“I’m not sleeping in a king-size bed with James.”

“Well, you’re not sleeping in a king-sized bed with me either.”

He sat up, and the bedsheet slipped down his chest and right on down his chiseled abs, landing so it barely covered his, ah, broken bits and pieces. “I have nowhere else to sleep.”

“Are you naked?”

He pulled the sheet up under his arms. “Just shirtless. Please. I promise to keep my hands to myself.” He showed me his palms, turning them forward and back, perfectly innocent.

“What is the matter with you?”

“Other than some bruised parts—” He lifted the sheet to have a look at himself.

I fixed my stare to the ceiling.

“—thank God,” he whispered to himself. “My ego included, nothing’s the matter with me.”

“You can’t sleep in my bed.” I pointed to the couch, which was really more of a love seat. “You can sleep there.”

“Half of me could. What should I do with the other half?”

I honestly didn’t know what to say. I was afraid to look at him for fear I’d launch myself at him, so I scurried off to the bathroom, leaving a “You’d better be dressed and out of my bed by the time I get back!” in my wake.

I closed the door behind me and sank down against it. The tile floor was cool beneath me, helping to ground me and stanch my rampaging emotions. I wanted to stretch out, letting the hard coldness of it seep into me. Instead I got up and switched on the shower, setting it for colder than I usually took it.

By the time I came out of the bathroom, Alex was sitting up in bed, watching some sports channel.

“You were supposed to be dressed and out of there by the time I finished.”

“I am dressed, see?” He flicked the sheet back to reveal board shorts.

Aw, jeez. I didn’t look away in time, and so I got hit with the full effect of a very toned, very male, mostly nude, super-way-hot Alex from about the knees up. I clapped a hand over my eyes, but the image was already there, burned into my memory bank.

“I can put a shirt on if it bothers you that much.”

A challenge. I didn’t do well with challenges. I’d yet to meet one I wouldn’t take, which always ended with me in all sorts of hot water. I had a feeling spending the night in the same bed as Alex would be a losing bet. He might be able to control himself, but I wasn’t all that sure I could.

He switched off the TV. “Come to bed. I promise to keep my hands to myself.” He patted the mattress beside him.

Climbing into bed, I gave him my most stern look. “You’d better keep that promise. My other knee is just as lethal.”

He pulled the covers back and tucked me in. “I’m sure it is.”

~*~

The trill of the phone startled me awake. Without opening my eyes, I reached a hand out, feeling for the receiver. “Hello?”

“Good morning, sunshine!” Juan Carlos chirped.

“Uhnn.” I flipped my hair off my forehead and found myself staring into Alex’s baby blues. Somehow during the night I’d draped myself across him, leaving a pool of drool on his chest. “Oh, God.”

I tried to get up, but Alex wrapped an arm around me, pinning me in place. He put his other hand behind his head and looked down at me with the kind of grin that got girls like me in big trouble.

“Rise and shine! I’ve been a busy, busy boy this morning,” Juan Carlos blabbed on. “I have so, so, sooo much to tell you. Are you awake? Hello?”

“I’m awake.” I gave Alex a hard shove in the chest and he released me. I scampered off him onto my own side of the bed.

“Good. Meet me in the café downstairs in half an hour.”

“Half an hour? That’s not enough—” Click. “Damn.”

I handed Alex the phone to hang up for me.

“Something wrong?” he asked, using the bedsheet to wipe down his chest.

I rolled my eyes and sighed, frustrated with him, this whole situation, and if I was honest…myself. “Yes. No.”

He looked me over slowly, searching for what, I didn’t know. When he spoke, his voice was gentle, soothing. “I want you to know that I’ll only take what’s freely given.”

His words made me tingle in places that hadn’t so much as twitched in months.

He reached over and took my hand. “Okay?”

Damn! Did he have to be hot and sweet? Not to mention half-dressed, interested, and so freakin’ close? As much as I wanted to, and Lordy did I want to, I couldn’t. Not with Vivian in trouble.

“Okay,” I answered, getting up to look at myself in the mirror over the dresser. I looked like I felt: out of control and messy. “Yikes.”

“I like it. You have that morning-after look.” Alex dropped his feet to the floor and stretched.

I nearly fell face-first into the mirror. The thin light streaming through the crack in the curtains lit up his torso, deepening the shadows and highlighting the oh-so-delicious rises.

“Do you have to do that?”

He turned to me. “What?”

“Nothing. Just get dressed. We’re meeting Juan Carlos in half an hour.”

“Mind if I take a quick shower?”

Oh, the images…

While Alex showered, I changed into a vintage Western-style button-up shirt with tiny pink-and-white flowers on it and my darkest jeans. Dark circles rimmed my eyes, so I applied shimmery, peachy-pink and taupe eye shadows and lots of mascara. To keep the focus off my eyes, I patted my cheeks with a rose-colored cream blush and followed with a dark fuchsia lipstick. I looked like a cowgirl pinup.

Grabbing a brush, I began hacking away at my mass of hair, trying to get it all to go in the same direction. It wasn’t working, so I pulled out my box of bobby pins and MacGyvered myself a pretty cute updo. I found a small pink flower and tucked it in over my right ear. The flower reminded me of Vivian.

Alex came out of the bathroom, smelling of fresh aftershave and clean man. This roommate situation was not going to work. “Why are you always naked? Don’t you own any clothes?”

Alex looked down at himself, all innocence. “I’m wearing pants.”

“Just hurry up.” I bent to grab my snakeskin peep-toed pumps and spied his computer case. I never did find out what had happened when Dhane’s dad died. “Can I use your computer?”

“Sure. Cord’s in the bag.” He grabbed a shirt from his suitcase and finally covered up. Not that I watched his every move or anything.

I booted up the computer and began a new search. It took less than five minutes to find the information I had searched two hours for the night before. Apparently I searched better with a few hours sleep under my belt. “Bingo.”

My cell phone rang.

“It’s been thirty-five minutes. Where are you?” Juan Carlos wanted to know.

“I’ll be right down. And you won’t believe what I found out.”

“And you won’t believe what I found out. Hurry!”

In my rush, I snapped the computer shut, grabbed my bag, and was halfway down the hall before I remembered I’d left Alex in the room. I spun around and plowed right into his chest. “Oomph.”

“You really should watch where you’re going,” Alex said.

“Every time I turn around, you’re there!” Buoyed by the excitement of what could be a real clue in all this mess, I shook off my irritation and grabbed him by the hand. “Just come on.”

I fidgeted the whole way down in the elevator. When the doors finally opened, I sprang free, bolting toward the café.

Juan Carlos and I began talking at once.

“You’ll never believe what I found—”

“Guess what I dug up—”

“You first,” we said in unison

“No, you,” we said again.

“Azalea goes first so she doesn’t explode,” Alex said, taking a seat next to Richard and introducing himself.

“Well, hello there.” Juan Carlos held out his hand for Alex. “It’s so nice to see you again.” Then he threw me a dirty look. “Azalea didn’t mention you’d come with James.” He turned and whispered to me behind his hand. “You should have told me Detective Delish was here. I would have spent more time getting ready.” He smoothed the hair over one ear with the palm of his hand. “How do I look?”

“You look fine. Same as always,” Richard said, not looking up from his menu.

“Good to see you, too,” Alex said. “New look?”

“Yes. Do you like it?” At Alex’s nod, Juan Carlos simpered, turning side to side.

“If you’re done barking up the wrong tree, Azalea has something she wants to tell us,” Richard interrupted, earning a sniff and head toss from Juan Carlos.

“I swear, Alex, if you weren’t straight I’d be all over you like Bob Mackie on Cher,” Juan Carlos said.

Alex laughed. “And if I were gay, I’d let you.”

“Hello?” I slapped a hand on the table. “Anyone remember Vivian? You know, our friend who’s in jail?”

“Please, let me go first,” Juan Carlos said, bouncing in his chair. “I promise, this is big. Huge.”

“All right, go.” I waved him on. “But hurry, mine’s big, too.”

“It’s like being in the men’s room at the Leather Mustache,” Richard deadpanned.

Alex and I smothered our laughs while Juan Carlos ignored him, pressing on.

“Okay, so you know how you wanted me to find out about the company?” At my nod, Juan Carlos continued, “I know who Big Mac is.”

“Who?” I asked.

“MacKenzie Todd, better known as Mac, was Dhane’s partner in Hjálmar, but she was more like a silent partner. You know, she did the behind-the-scenes kind of stuff like product development. And apparently she was developing a really top-secret product that was going to launch Hjálmar into the outer stratosphere.”

“What kind of product?” I asked.

“Some kind of revolutionary new hair color formula that doesn’t fade even on really porous hair.”

“That’s not revolutionary,” Richard said.

“That’s not the revolutionary part, no. But get this.” Juan Carlos paused for dramatic effect. “What makes this color so innovative is that it can be changed with only one shampoo.”

“Like a rinse or toner?” I asked.

“Yes, but it won’t be sheer like a rinse or toner. This new color formula will give coverage like a permanent color, but will wash out completely when you use the special shampoo,” Juan Carlos explained. “In essence, a client could change her hair color for as long or short of a time as she wants.”

I could practically see the piles of money stacking up. My heart leaped in excitement. “That would be incredible. I could give my client a different hair color every day if she wanted.”

“Yes!” Juan Carlos enthused. “Think about it. A blonde could be a redhead for a weekend or a brunette for a month.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t work in reverse without lift,” Richard pointed out.

Alex looked puzzled. “What’s lift?”

“To put it simply, lift is how hair gets lightened. The greater the lift hair color has, the lighter the hair gets,” I explained. “I see what you mean, Richard, a brunette couldn’t be a blonde or a true redhead for a weekend. You could maybe get auburn, but with all that brown occurring naturally in the hair, you wouldn’t get a bright red.”

Juan Carlos jumped in. “Ah, here’s the thing though. Big Mac was supposedly testing just such a product.”

“Are you kidding? That’s not possible.” I shook my head in disbelief. “Can’t be done.”

“But what if it could?” Richard asked, looking for the first time like he was really interested in our conversation. “How much would a product like that be worth to a company? Millions? Billions?”

“Exactly,” Juan Carlos said. “And how pissed would you be if you developed such a product and your partner sold the company and your new product right out from under you?”

“He sold the company?” Richard blurted out.

“It was for sale. And from what I understand, there was a buyer, but no, Dhane died before the sale could go through,” Juan Carlos said.

“You’d think they’d have a partnership agreement to prevent that kind of thing, though,” I said. “Vivian and I have one. There’s no way either of us could sell our portion of the salon, let alone the whole business, without the other’s approval.”

“The LLC only lists Dhane. There’s no mention of Big Mac in any of the paperwork.”

“Oh my God,” I gasped, my mind spinning with new scenarios. “But why would Dhane do that when they were on the verge of something so huge?”

“That I don’t know,” Juan Carlos said.

I looked over at Alex. He was scribbling in a small notebook.

“I’m taking notes,” he explained.

That was a good idea. I wished I’d thought to do that. But then he did this sort of thing for a living. I dug around in my bag and came up with the sparkly silver notepad I carried to write down color formulas, and one of those fat pens with four different kinds of ink. Not exactly police issued, but it would do.

Just as I bent my head to write in it, I caught Alex’s approving half grin.

“Now you,” Juan Carlos said to me.

I set aside my notebook. “I think I might have found out what happened when Dhane’s dad died.”

“How? When? You had nothing when you left my room last night.”

“I used Alex’s computer.”

“How…but…oh! You are such a Two-faced Tilly.” Juan Carlos eyed me like I was his teenage daughter coming home past curfew. “What’d you do, hook up in the hall? And after you gave me such a hard time about me getting in some hard time with Rambo here.” He jerked his head toward Richard, who slumped down in his seat.

“I did not! He was already in my room when I got there.”

Juan Carlos sucked in air. “You had him on hold, pretending to be all tired so you could cut out early and do the mommy-daddy dance with Officer Awesome here.”

“I didn’t even know he was there!”

“She’s telling the truth,” Alex interjected on my behalf. “There weren’t any more rooms. Azalea was kind enough to let me share hers.”

Juan Carlos looked back and forth between Alex and me. “Right. And you’re telling me nothing happened.”

“She was all over me, but I managed to resist,” Alex said, a teasing smile playing around his mouth.

“Can I tell you what I found out now?” I asked. Juan Carlos gave a reluctant nod, so I continued, “Last night I must have looked at a thousand news articles and I’m sure I’d already read this one particular piece, but this morning something popped out at me. The article was dated ten years ago, so Trinity would have been about fourteen. Older than Jun’s story led us to believe, which is why I probably overlooked it the first time.

“What caught my eye was a small, grainy photo just below the byline. It was a yearbook photo of a young man named Daniel Ware of Newton, Kansas. The article was about how he’d come home to find there’d been a house fire and the only survivor was his younger sister. Arson was suspected then confirmed. In the rubble, two bodies were found.”

“Two? I don’t think you found the right article,” Juan Carlos said.

“Just wait,” I said. “The two bodies were determined to be the parents. They’d died from smoke inhalation. Because he hadn’t been home at the time, Daniel wasn’t charged.”

“What makes you think that article is linked to Dhane?” Alex asked.

“The photo,” I answered. “He was younger and had a really bad mullet, but I’m positive it was Dhane. There’s no mistaking those eyes.”

“That’s for sure,” Juan Carlos agreed. “But I’m confused. Jun said Dhane had killed their father and that’s why Trinity’s ten pounds of crazy in a five-pound sack.”

“Right. But here’s the thing. Dhane didn’t kill anyone,” I replied. “He had an alibi.”

“Then who killed the parents?” Richard asked.

“According to the newspaper report, there was only one suspect.” I looked around at everyone at the table, anticipating their reactions. “The little sister.”