Divorced, Desperate and Delicious

That afternoon Lacy came running through the living room, a small digital camera in her hands, chasing the white cat that now wore a Mrs. Claus outfit.

  “Sweetie Pie!” Lacy called, but the cat darted beneath the sofa. She dropped the small camera beside Chase’s leg, then got on her knees and peered under the couch. “Sweetie Pie, I’ll give you a can of Fancy Feast . . . if Chase will share.” She looked up at him and grinned; then her attention went back to the cat. “Come on, baby. One more shot is all I need.”

  Chase picked up the camera. Something tickled his memory. Then, in a flash, things started meshing. “Damn. That’s it!”

  “What’s it?” She popped up.

  His mind spun. “Pablo Martinez. Why didn’t I remember that before?”

  “Remember what before?” she asked.

  He ran to the phone. His hands went to his pockets, only to realize that he now wore the sweats. “My jeans? Where are they?”

  “In the washer. Remember? We had sex and then I took them.”

  “Damn!” Chase made a mad dash for the laundry room, praying he could still read the number on the scrap of paper. “Damn, damn!” he cursed as he jerked open the washer and pulled his jeans out of the soapy water. Water rolled off the denims and onto the floor. “You didn’t check the pockets?”

  “Sorry, the hall sex must have left me a bit rattled.” Her eyebrow arched with a bit of annoyance.

  He carefully retrieved the paper, which was smeared but readable.

  “Who are you calling?” she asked, and he saw the frustration in her eyes.

  “Just a minute.” He punched in the number.

  The phone rang and then a recorder came on. He gritted his teeth. “Call me, Jason.” He slammed down the phone.

  “What is it?” Lacy asked. The tightness in her voice made him turn around.

  “It’s Martinez. That’s the connection with the Lakes case and the last few days.”

  “Who is Martinez? And what’s the Lakes case?” she asked.

  Chase ran a hand over his face. “He’s an informant. Half-loco kid, thinks of himself as a James Bond type. He likes weird gadgets, mini tape recorders and . . . your camera reminded me of him. He always has these tiny cameras around. He had one about the size of a matchbox, said he uses it to get pictures of deals going down.” Chase paced the kitchen. “He called me last week. Said he had something for me. Wanted me to pick up something at our normal spot.”

  “Your what?”

  “I didn’t pay much attention to him. I mean, the kid’s nuts. Usually what he hands over is trivial, like a street kid selling a joint, but there was one case that he actually gave us something. It led us to a dead girl. Brandy Lakes was her name. But things didn’t pan out. It was squirrelly. And . . .” Chase stared at the ceiling. “Oh, hell!”

  “What?” Lacy snapped again.

  “He . . . he’s the same size as I am and has dark hair.”

  Lacy blinked. “And that’s bad?”

  “It is if he was just pulled from the lake.”

  “Oh, you think . . . That’s terrible.”

  Chase nodded. “Yeah.” He took off for the bedroom. Lacy followed. He grabbed his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. “I need to borrow your car.”

  “Where are you going?” she asked, her voice strained.

  “I’ve got to get whatever it is Martinez left me.”

  “Where . . . where did he leave it?”

  “At a gym locker. He gave me one of those key cards after the Lakes case. Said he rented it to be our drop-off spot. Said he’d contact me and leave information there. I don’t even know what I did with the freaking card.”

  Chase dug his wallet out of Lacy’s drawer and started tossing things out. Some of the papers were smeared from his dunk in the lake.

  “What gym?” she asked.

  “Crap!”

  “What?”

  Chase grabbed his things and stuffed them back into his wallet. “The card has to be at my place.”

  “So just wait on Jason.”

  “I can’t wait. I’ve wasted enough time.”

  “Wasted?” The hurt in her voice made him look up, but damn it.

  “Lacy, I don’t have time to answer questions right now. I really need to get this behind me. Then we can sit and talk about—”

  “But it’s dangerous. Zeke could be waiting for you. He’s probably watching your place right now, hoping you’ll go back there. That’s what they do in the movies. And then, like an idiot, the hero walks right in and gets—”

  “This isn’t the movies. Can I borrow your car?”

  “You’re going to get killed,” she said. “I can’t let you do that.”

  “I’m not going to get killed. Please, give me your keys.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip. “Let me go. Let me go to your place. He won’t be looking for me.”

  Chase glared at her. “He knows what you look like. You had the bastard in for tea, remember?”

  “He knows what you look like even better. I could . . . I could put on a hat or something. Wait. I know. I know. I saw this on Charlie’s Angels. I know what I can do.”

  Chase took her by the shoulders. “Lacy. This isn’t a damn Charlie’s Angels episode!” He took a breath and tried to calm himself. “Just give me your keys. Please.”

  “No.” She held up her chin, tilted at that defiant angle that both endeared her to him and made him madder than hell.

  “You’re not going,” he said, not withholding the sharpness from his tone.

  “I won’t give you the keys.”

  He stormed around her and headed for the living room, where he knew she’d left her purse. She dogged his steps down the hall.

  “And if you take them from me, I’ll follow you. I’ll—”

  “You don’t have another car.” He snatched up her purse and turned it over, spilling everything out on the hardwood floor.

  “I’ll . . . I have Zeke’s card. I’ll call him.”

  Chase grabbed the keys and glared up at her. “You’re going to tell him I’m going to my apartment? You want me dead?”

  “No. I’ll tell him I know something. He’ll come here and then . . . then he . . . he won’t be at your place waiting on you.”

  Chase stared at her. “So he’ll kill you instead. Was that on Charlie’s Angels, too?”

  Her eyes took on a glint of blue steel. She was serious. The damn woman was serious. She would call Zeke. Put herself in danger. She cared that much about him that she’d put herself in harm’s way.

  She gave her shoulders a little shrug, squaring them off as if preparing for battle. “Are you going to take me or not?”

  Chase kicked her purse across the room. “Lacy, don’t do this.”

  She settled both her hands on her small hips. “You did it. You got me mixed up in this and now it’s too late.”

  • • •

  Zeke’s eyes burned right along with his stomach as he walked down the hospital hall. Mrs. Stokes and her two boys stepped around a corner and appeared right in front of him. The acid gusher in his gut spewed into high gear.

  “Say hello to Mr. Duncan,” Mrs. Stokes told the boys. “Tell him how much you appreciate all he’s done for us by staying at the hospital. Getting help to your daddy so fast.”

  The boys looked up at him and said their thanks in small voices. Then Mrs. Stokes reached out and touched Zeke’s arm. Oddly, Zeke realized how long it had been since another human had touched him. Purposely touched him. He’d paid a few whores to screw him, but this wasn’t sex, this was one human touching another. Kindness he didn’t deserve. Emotion, like electricity, raced up his arm.

  “The nurse told me you’ve called at least a dozen times a day. I just want you to know how much it means.”

  Zeke managed to nod, even though he felt a part of him was frozen inside. And he realized that part had been frozen for a long time. Since his wife left, since the judge had given custody of his kids to his wife. Since he’d watch
ed another man walk into his home, mow his lawn, and take his son to father/son day at school.

  “I’m . . . glad to . . .” He felt sick to his stomach. The hope had returned to her eyes again and it hit him so hard he couldn’t breathe. Hadn’t the doctor warned them last night that things didn’t look good? But the woman still hoped. Was she a masochist, or had someone actually given her good news?

  “How is he?” He forced the words out.

  She smiled. “Better. He even came to for a second. It was short, but he looked right at me.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

  Acid welled up in Zeke’s gut. “Well, I . . . I should go.” His hurried escape across the hospital floor rang in his ears.

  • • •

  Lacy walked into the trailer that served as Kathy’s florist shop. The bell on the door jingled.

  Kathy looked up from arranging a vase of yellow roses and frowned. “What’s wrong? Lose my plumber’s phone number?”

  “Do you really believe I had sex with him?”

  Kathy clipped off a rose leaf. “No. But Sue’s pretty sure you slept with her cop.”

  “Well, I didn’t.” Lacy leaned against the counter.

  Kathy pulled out a rose and snipped its stem. “Then you had sex with Peter?”

  Lacy rolled her eyes at the question. “No.”

  “Then whom were you having sex with?” Kathy leaned on the counter.

  “Maybe I didn’t have sex with anyone.”

  Kathy pointed her scissors at Lacy. “You had your robe on inside out. And you’re a terrible liar.”

  Lacy sighed and decided to give up lying altogether. “Okay, I was having sex, but not with the plumber, not with Jason Dodd, and not with Peter.”

  Kathy’s eyebrow arched upward. “You had the FedEx guy hidden in the bedroom?”

  “No!”

  “The vet?” Kathy asked.

  “No!” Lacy said. “Look. I promise you I’ll spill my guts later. Right now I need a favor.”

  “What favor?” Kathy slid the rose back into the vase.

  “I need to borrow the White Elephant and . . . and one of your delivery uniforms and a large vase of flowers.”

  Kathy cocked her head to one side and stared at her. “And this is because . . .”

  “I can’t tell you.” Lacy took a step closer to the counter. “Please, Kathy. Just trust me on this. I’ll only be a couple of hours, and I’ll leave my keys so if you need to make any deliveries, you can use my car.”

  Kathy made a face. “Why do you—”

  “Please?” Lacy dropped her keys on the counter. “No questions. It’s top secret. I can’t discuss it now. Just do it.”

  Kathy’s nose wrinkled. “When did you go James Bond on me?” She tossed her long red braid over her shoulder and sighed. “Fine. But the White Elephant comes back in mint condition. Not a scratch on it. I just had it painted and my logo airbrushed on it. Cost me almost two thousand dollars.”

  “Mint condition. Got it.” Lacy smiled and ran around the counter and gave her friend a hug.

  Kathy shook her head. “Something tells me I’m going to regret this.”

  • • •

  Something told Chase he was going to regret this. Seriously regret it. Damn. If Lacy got hurt, he’d never forgive himself. But the woman wasn’t lying; he’d seen it in her blue eyes. If he didn’t bring her with him, she would call Zeke. Freaking nuts—she was loony! Lacy had truly lost touch with reality. He’d fallen in love with a lunatic.

  He had to admit, though, her idea of getting the floral delivery truck and pretending to deliver flowers to his condo building had merit. Maybe when this was over he’d start watching reruns of Charlie’s Angels.

  When Lacy walked out of the florist shop wearing a pair of coveralls and a hat, and carrying a large vase of yellow roses, his heart dropped and his fear kicked in all over again. He’d rather die or rot in prison before she got hurt. Damn, why wouldn’t she listen to him?

  “Let’s go.” She opened the driver side door and dangled a pair of keys in front of him.

  He got out and stared at her over the top of her car. “Lacy? Please stay here. I’ll take the truck and flowers and I’ll do it, okay? If something happens to—”

  “No.” She slammed the door closed with her hip.

  “You’re not being reasonable. Damn it!” Chase’s gut knotted as he moved to walk beside her.

  She handed him the vase and unlocked the truck door.

  “Let me drive,” he said.

  “No.” She pulled the keys close to her chest. “If something happens to the White Elephant, Kathy will grind me up and use me for fertilizer.”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass about this truck.” He crawled in the passenger side. “It’s you I’m worried about.” He slammed the door. “This isn’t a damn episode of Charlie’s Angels,” he repeated.

  She turned her head, her expression unconcerned. “Where do you live?” she asked, and started the engine. Suddenly her mouth dropped open. “I can’t believe I’m sleeping with a man and I don’t even know where he lives.”

  • • •

  Zeke drove to his apartment feeling numb inside. He sat in the car staring at nothing. Hope leaked out of him like air out of a day-old balloon. He pulled his gun out, laid it on his lap and eyed it. Then slowly he picked it up and pointed the barrel at his temple.

  His hands started to shake and he called himself a fucking coward. He could take other lives. He could kill, but he was too weak to take his own life. To end his misery. Damn it! He deserved to die.

  He pushed the gun into his mouth, tasted the cold metal against the back of his throat. His stomach heaved and he threw his gun down on the floorboard. Wiping his mouth, he slung his head back against the headrest, biting his lip until he tasted blood.

  The fury building in his chest clawed at the self-pity that had bedded down there for the last few hours: This was Kelly’s fault. He reached for his keys and started the car. He’d find Dodd and beat the truth out of him. If Kelly was alive, Dodd would tell him or he’d die.

  Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he dialed. “Where’s he at right now?” he asked when Bruno answered.

  Bruno hesitated. “He just went inside Kelly’s condo again.”

  “Fine. I’ll be right there.” He hit the off button and slung the phone to the floorboards with his gun.

  Maybe Kelly and Stokes weren’t the only ones who’d be joining Zeke in Hell. Jason Dodd could come, too.

  Chapter Twenty-six