Chapter 16
Taryn overslept. Full sunlight streamed through her eastern facing window as she rolled over to check her clock. Ten a.m. She groaned and flopped back onto her pillow. The urge to cover her head and go back to sleep fought with the need to get up and moving before Rick arrived at her door.
She was too tired to fight about Alvin. She’d made her decision and that was that.
After tucking Alvin into the spare bedroom with the biggest bed, and leaving him towels for a shower, she’d locked her door, in case he reconsidered the whole murder thing, and she tossed and turned all night. Now she was late meeting Rick.
Reaching for her phone, she checked her texts. He’d sent three, the last more urgent that the first two. She quickly whipped off an assurance that she’d not been abducted but that she’d overslept.
Rolling from her bed, she padded to the bathroom. After taking care of business, she stared in the mirror at the haggard face peering out from beneath a tangle of hair.
Before she could attack the tresses with a brush, and then shower, the doorbell rang.
Great.
Things got better when she discovered Rick on her doorstep with a bag of doughnuts and a pair of coffees. “Jess said you hadn’t been in and Summer was worried you might be sick.” He stared. “Were you in an accident with a lawn mower?”
“Ha. Always a comedian.” She stepped back and let him in. He smelled freshly showered and yummy. “I didn’t sleep well and I just sent you a text. Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He handed her a coffee. “Why don’t you get ready and I’ll put the doughnuts in the kitchen.”
He wandered off. She had reached to the bottom of the staircase when his voice stopped her. “Do you know you have a primate in your backyard, in boxers, barbecuing hot dogs on your grill?”
“Damn.” Alvin. She hurried into the kitchen and out the back door. Rick followed. Dressed only in blue-and-white-striped boxers and wielding a pair of semi-rusty tongs, Alvin had a row of dogs sizzling over low heat. He must have dug them out of her freezer. But what took her aback was the trio of boys sitting on her deck railing, also in boxers, with cans of beer in their hands.
“What in the hell?”
Andrew grinned. “Taryn, you throw the best parties.” He popped the can tab and took a drink.
She scowled at Alvin. “You can’t let them drink beer.”
He waved the tongs at the trio. “They’re college students. College students drink beer.”
She pointed to Thurston. “That one is fourteen, that one is eighteen, and that one—” She paused and looked the guy over. She’d never seen him before, but he was sporting a tangle of brown curly hair and a soul patch, and looked way over twenty-one. “And he may actually be legal. But still. It’s ten a.m. No beer.”
Thurston reached for Andrew’s beer. Alvin snatched it from him, crushed the can, spilling beer on the faded deck, and tossed it over the railing and into the bushes.
“You didn’t tell me you were fourteen.”
“You didn’t ask.” Thurston sent Taryn a puppy-dog glance. “I’m mature for my age.”
Rick chuckled behind her.
She collected the opened cans and the rest of the six-pack. “No drinking, and put on pants.” She stomped into the house and dumped the beer into the trashcan. “Watch them,” she called back to Rick and headed up for a shower. She couldn’t think straight in her PJs.
Twenty minutes later, she was refreshed, dressed, and ready to take on the issues in her backyard.
Alvin and the boys, all still sporting their boxers, were eating plain hot dogs speared on forks, while Rick stood in the open doorway, arms crossed, watching over the foursome as she’d ordered. When he saw her coming, he cocked up a brow and smiled at her frowning face.
“Andrew was right. You do throw the best parties.”
“Hmmm.” She brushed past him and shooed the boys, and soul patch guy, off her porch, then helped Alvin clean up. Once finished, she grabbed her bag and keys. “I’ll stop by the big and tall store today and get you something to wear. Until then, stay out of mischief.”
* * *
Rick waited until they were away from the house before finally giving in to his curiosity. “Would you like to explain why you have a large, half-naked man in your backyard?”
“He’s my assassin.”
“Right.” It took him a second to realize she was serious. He pulled the SUV to the curb and faced her. She popped the last bite of a doughnut into her open mouth. “Is there anything about you that’s normal?”
“My parents are retired school teachers from Iowa?”
Smart. Beautiful. Crazy. “Why don’t we start with Alvin.”
So she did. Taryn told him about the harassment, the bus, the lawsuit, and the murder-for-hire. When she was finished, his gut was in knots. “You let a killer live in your house?”
“He’s really just a bodyguard, and he promised not to kill me.” She was so matter-of-fact about trusting the thug that he wasn’t sure if he should take her arms and shake some sense into her or go back and extricate Alvin from her house before the guy changed his mind.
“And you believe him?”
She played with the end of her ponytail. “He’s trying to change. He’s in therapy.”
Yep. Crazy. “Maybe you two can get a group rate.”
As she swiveled in the seat, her hazel eyes blazed and she snapped, “What was I supposed to do? He walked seven hundred miles to warn me that Willard wanted to kill me. If anyone deserves a little compassion, it’s Alvin.”
The knot stayed. He wasn’t comforted at all by the Alvin-in-therapy thing. The guy looked like a stereotypical Hollywood movie killer. And he was living with Taryn.
“I think you’re making a mistake,” he said. By the stubborn jaw clench, continuing the argument would be a useless gesture. She had her mind set.
“It’s mine to make.” She crossed her arms and stared out the windshield. The subject was closed. There might not be anything he could do now, but he intended to keep a close eye on Alvin the Assassin.
They hit the big and tall store for shirts and slacks. Then they went to the office for an update from Summer. There was still no sign of Brinkman online, but she had a full roster of dates for that evening.
His phone pinged with a new text. “It’s the detective investigating the shooting. They got prints off the Pinto. The same prints were found on a receipt for a rented Lincoln out of Livonia.” He scrolled down. “When the car wasn’t returned, the company reported it stolen and hunted it down by GPS. It took a while to find the car. It was at the bottom of Lake Erie.”
“The renter was Brinkman? If it was, then Brinkman was likely the renter of the storage unit, too.”
“Yes. Video at the car leasing place and a copy of his driver’s license confirmed it’s him. The manager from Affordable U-Store also confirmed he rented the unit. Brinkman moved up from the Pinto.”
“To impress Honey, perhaps?” she said. “I’m beginning to think that Honey might not be in danger at all. He’s never tried to impress any other wives. There must be something about her that made him change his routine.”
“He might be in love,” Rick said.
Taryn refused to make eye contact with Rick since she was still annoyed with him. He refused to give in on the Alvin thing.
“I guess we won’t know until we find them,” she said.
Rick treated Taryn to a strained lunch and took her back to her house. He walked her in, offered her guest, still in his boxers, a warning, in front of her, and left with all sorts of reservations dogging at his heels.
Taryn slammed the door behind him.
* * *
Taryn sipped her coffee, determined to ignore Rick, who was seated with Summer and Jess a few tables over. The Salty Pretzel was a karaoke bar with loud music and a festive atmosphere. She wore her new flirty sundress with a pair of cute low boots from the back of her closet that she’d dusted off. She’d twisted her hair up in the back, leaving some tendrils to fall down around her neck and shoulders.
The table was off in a corner, and it was the first time she’d been there, so there was little chance she’d run into anyone she knew.
The comment Rick made about Brinkman being in love stuck with her; she hoped that wasn’t the case, or the con man wouldn’t be out trolling for new victims. Although she didn’t want him loose on the female population of Michigan, if he had settled down and was happily wed, it would make this stakeout a waste of time. They might never find him.
Rick was dressed in a loose red shirt to hide his gun, and his caveman club, if she were to guess. His warning to Alvin had ratcheted up her annoyance level again, just as she was starting to get past the first overprotective lecture. As if she couldn’t take care of herself.
Date one approached and Taryn turned her attention to business. He was short, round, and overly effusive with his praise of her beauty. He talked marriage, kids, and station wagons, all in the first two minutes. Rick had to drag him off before he dropped to one knee and proposed.
Guy two was a college professor with wispy brown hair and a severe overbite. He was the first to realize they weren’t a match and left after finishing his coffee.
Number three was well into his seventies, a good ten years older that his profile claimed, and appeared to want a nurse more than a wife. Jess shuffled him off and into a cab.
And on and on it went with no sign of Brinkman. Date six was convinced God was speaking to him through his hearing aids. Date seven was hunting for his eighth wife. None of the men seemed overly concerned that Taryn looked twenty years younger than her profile picture. A couple of the men thought dating online was a game and lying about themselves was not a deal breaker. They expected her to accept them for their winning personalities and overlook the fact that they were not the male models whose photos they’d lifted online.
By the time her last date came and went, she was ready for some fun. Pushing up to her feet, she wandered over to join Rick and her friends. The small round table was crowded with four of them seated there.
“Another bust,” she said and slumped in a chair at the four-top table. “I could use a cocktail.” She ordered a cosmopolitan. “I’m starting to think Rick is right and our felon is in love. Brinkman loaded Honey up and left town with her, to a life of sipping fruity drinks on a beach somewhere.”
“If he has, he’ll be harder to find,” Rick said.
Taryn ignored his knee pressed against hers. Well, tried to, anyway. She didn’t need therapy, or him, to protect her from Alvin. Although she wasn’t sure he’d completely changed from the thug who’d tossed the three of them off the bus, Alvin had shown no sign that he was dangerous.
“You know you can’t stay mad forever,” he said, just loud enough to be heard over the music.
“I can and I may.”
“I’m right about Alvin. The guy is a menace.”
Her chin went up. “You don’t know him.”
“I’ve been an agent for eight years and I know guys like him. All you need is a match and he’ll explode.”
Here he went again, trying to boss her around. “You’re wrong. Alvin can change. He wants to change.”
Taryn didn’t realize her voice had gone up until Summer made a distressed sound. She turned to find her friends gaping like a couple of carp.
“You can’t be talking about Alvin the Ape?” Jess said, wide-eyed and disbelieving.
“Alvin is here in Ann Arbor?” Summer’s voice was high and her expression freaked out.
Silence confirmed her question. Rick tossed in the gasoline. “He is and he’s living with Taryn.”
* * *
For the next ten minutes the three women argued while Rick drank a second beer. He’d hoped Summer and Jess would talk some sense into Taryn, but she was just as determined to help Alvin as she had been before her friends got involved.
“Please trust me on this,” Taryn pleaded as the arguing died down. “If I’m wrong, you can gloat. Until then, he stays.”
There was more grumbling, but Taryn won the battle in time for the lights to lower in the bar and a man to take the small stage to announce the start of karaoke. Summer and Jess shared a worried glance, but kept silent. If Rick needed allies in the future, he could count on them.
Clapping erupted from the crowd.
“We have a lot of future singing stars with us tonight, so let’s get started.” The emcee called out a name and a pair of women took the stage to belt out a Shania Twain song. One was off key. The other did a decent job of mimicking Shania.
“We should go,” Summer said after the second act, and grabbed her purse.
“Yes, let’s,” Jess agreed. There was an undercurrent of desperation in her tone that caught Rick’s attention.
“I don’t want to go,” Taryn said. “This is fun.”
Rick watched a slightly panicked look pass between Summer and Jess. Taryn didn’t seem to notice.
“Next up is . . .” The host pulled a name out of a box. “Taryn!”
“Oh, no.” Summer slid down in her chair, as Taryn jumped to her feet and hurried for the stage. “Jess, when did she enter?”
“It must have been when she went to the restroom,” Jess said, her eyes accusing. “I thought you were watching her.”
“Me?” Summer turned defensive. “I thought it was your turn. I drove us past that bar in Dexter, before she spotted the sign. That counts.”
“Is there a problem here?” he asked. They leveled pitying stares his way.
“Please don’t let it be Whitney,” Jess said and grabbed for her purse. The brunette frantically dug around in the bottom of the bag. Relief flooded her pretty features when she found what she was hunting for.
“What will you sing tonight, young lady?” the emcee said.
“ ‘I Will Always Love You’ by Whitney Houston.”
Summer whimpered.
Jess groaned. “Dear lord, by all that is holy, no.” She removed a small tin and popped it open. Reaching inside, she handed Summer and Rick each a pair of gummy orange earplugs.
“Come on. She can’t be that bad,” Rick piped in. He’d heard her sing in the car and she wasn’t very good, but she wasn’t earplug horrible either.
Shaking her head, Jess clicked her tongue. He dropped the plugs on the table. “I’ll take my chances.”
Summer pushed earplugs into her ears. “Your funeral.”
The music swelled. Taryn sang. What started out okay swelled into a karaoke nightmare of epic proportions when she summoned up everything in her and hit high notes that dolphins off the coast of Maine could hear. Dogs howled, babies cried, and glasses shattered. Rick dove for the plugs, but it was too late. He’d already suffered irreversible damage.
“I will always love youuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!!” Taryn wailed. Several people leapt to their feet and ran for the exit. When the off-key crescendo faded away, and Taryn took her bow, Rick suspected that the frenzied clapping as she left the stage was because the horror was over and not because they thought her the next Taylor Swift.
“That was so much fun!” Taryn said breathlessly, as she hurried back and dropped onto her seat. Her dress skirt fluttered around her in a poof of pastel flowers. All her tension and annoyance with him was gone. She was happy and relaxed when she reached for her drink. “How was I?”
“Whitney had nothing on you,” Rick said. What else could he say that wouldn’t hurt her feelings? Anything more would cause a heavenly lightning strike on his head for lying. “I’ve never seen such an enthusiastic performance.”
“It was great!” Summer exclaimed.
“Your best rendition yet!” Jess said and clapped.
Rick was sure the three of them were doomed to a heaven-sent electrical jolt to the head the minute they stepped outside. But Taryn’s eyes softened and she sent her friends a sweet smile.
“Thanks.” Taryn sipped her drink and peered at him over the rim. After a few more acts came and went, Summer and Jess headed off to speak to someone they recognized—or to discreetly ditch the earplugs. Probably both.
They promised to meet Taryn outside.
Trying not to look at the way her dress rode up to mid-thigh revealing creamy skin, Rick could see how much Taryn loved her friends and they loved her. To sit through karaoke at its worst proved their love and loyalty.
“Ready?” he said.
She finished her drink and nodded. He pulled out her chair for her. A curl led his eyes to the back of her neck as she stood. Despite causing him an inner ear bleed, she was still damn sexy. He wanted to kiss the soft skin on her shoulder, her neck, and her breasts. Hell, he wanted to kiss her all over.
Yep, he was toast. His promise to behave until the case was concluded had its limits when it came to Taryn. Loving his mother and being a loyal son meant closing the case. Anything outside of that was his business.
When they got outside, she paused on the sidewalk. “Did you really like my singing?”
What he said at this moment would either make or break any future chance of getting her into bed. He struggled inwardly for a beat before shaking his head. “No.”
Instead of taking insult, she laughed. “I know I’m bad, but I love to sing. I won’t apologize for that.”
“You shouldn’t.” If singing made her happy, he was all for it. This was yet another thing to admire about the pretty PI: her fearlessness.
“If anyone complains, I’ll have Jess pass out earplugs,” she said, her laughter deepening. When his brow went up, she shrugged. “What? You think I don’t know? How else could they sit through karaoke with me and not go mad?”