Twin Peril Page 3

  “Ah, okay.” She was surprised he cared enough to respect her need for privacy. She couldn’t remember the last guy who’d put her needs before his own.

  She told herself not to place too much emphasis on Jonah’s kindness. For all she knew, he was simply biding his time before he slipped handcuffs on her and hauled her off to jail.

  If he tried that, he’d learn firsthand what it meant to be a black belt in Tae Kwon Do.

  * * *

  Jonah grabbed his laptop and his duffel bag from the backseat of his car. He caught Mallory eyeing his duffel with longing. Luckily he had plenty of cash—there would be time to pick up a few things for her later.

  They went into their rooms. Jonah dropped his duffel bag on the bed and then crossed over to unlock the connecting door on his side of the two rooms. He was surprised to find that Mallory had already opened her side, too. He hovered in the doorway, not wanting to encroach on her personal space. The faint scent of juniper greeted him, as if Mallory had stashed a few Christmas trees inside. “I—uh—thought we’d head over to the diner for breakfast before we get some sleep.”

  “Sure.” Her smile was weary. “But if you could stop at the front desk to get me a toothbrush, I’d appreciate it.”

  “No problem.” He grabbed his computer and followed her outside.

  She glanced at the computer in surprise. “Do you really think the café has Wi-Fi?”

  “According to the desk clerk they do.” He’d made sure there was an internet connection in the rooms, too. “Figured I’d do some research on your former boyfriend over breakfast.”

  Mallory didn’t say anything in response, but followed him inside the café. He chose a booth in the back. But when he booted up the computer, Mallory slid in beside him.

  “What are you doing?” he asked in alarm, trying to ignore her juniper scent.

  “I’m not just going to sit there and watch you work,” Mallory said in exasperation. “I can help.”

  He wished he’d brought more than one computer, to keep Mallory on the opposite side of the booth where she belonged. Yet he could hardly blame her for wanting to help. When the waitress came over with a pot of coffee, he stopped her from filling his cup. “Just orange juice for me, please.”

  “Me, too,” Mallory chimed in.

  While they waited for their order, he began to search for recent information about Anthony Caruso.

  “Do you know what we’re looking for?” Mallory asked.

  “A needle in a haystack,” he muttered. His computer skills were decent, but attempting to breach the security of a state senator’s home computer probably wasn’t smart, especially on a public network, so he refrained. Thinking clearly wasn’t easy with Mallory glued to his side. He hadn’t been this distracted by a woman in a long time.

  And he shouldn’t be now, while he was in the middle of a case.

  They took a break from the computer search when their food arrived, and thankfully Mallory went back to her side of the booth. Neither of them said much as they ate. His original plan was to stay at the café and work while Mallory went back to the room to get some sleep. But exhaustion was already weighing him down.

  Once they’d finished breakfast, Mallory again abandoned her side of the booth to slide in beside him.

  “Why don’t you cross-reference Caruso’s name with Jefferson’s?” she suggested.

  He typed in the two names, and the first item to come up was a newspaper article regarding a charity event that had been held a week ago, down at the Pfister Hotel in Milwaukee. When a color photo bloomed on the screen, he heard Mallory gasp softly.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. And then he noticed the slender woman in a deep blue gown standing off to the side. The photographer had only caught her back, but the woman’s short, curly blond hair matched Mallory’s. He glanced over at her as he lightly tapped the computer screen. “This is you, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. I attended the event with Anthony—he’s in the photo, too, right here, but you can’t see him very well.” Her face had gone pale as she stared at the photo.

  “Did you remember something from that night?” he pressed, watching her carefully. “Maybe another conversation you overheard?”

  “Anthony was angry when this guy came by to take our pictures. In fact, at the time I thought he was completely overreacting when he had stomped over to the photographer, demanding the photo be erased from his digital camera. Of course the camera guy had refused, and Hugh Jefferson had come over to calm down Anthony. Anthony and Jefferson went off to talk, and the next thing I knew, the entire incident was glossed over. When I asked Anthony about it later, he told me not to worry about it, because Jefferson convinced the cameraman not to list his name.”

  He frowned and glanced back at the photograph he’d enlarged on the screen. “Strikes me as odd that the senator didn’t want his picture taken. Normally politicians love to be splashed all over the media.”

  She nodded slowly. “Yeah, I thought it was odd, too. In fact, up until that point, I hadn’t heard Anthony raise his voice to anyone. I think that was partially why I listened to his phone conversation the next night. He was always so smoothly charming.”

  He swiveled in his seat to stare at her. “Are you telling me this charity event was the night before you overheard him trying to cover up Councilman Schaefer’s murder?”

  “Yes. The benefit was on Thursday night, and I overheard the conversation the next day. We’d originally made plans to have lunch, but then Anthony backed out, saying something important at work had come up. Next thing I knew, he was talking about covering up a murder.”

  His gut clenched when he realized how lucky she’d been to get away from Caruso’s thug not just once, but twice. He was thankful Mallory had managed to get away, or the outcome of Wasserman’s attack could have been very different.

  God was definitely watching over her. Watching over both of them.

  And this time, he wouldn’t mess up like he had the night his partner had died.

  Please, God, give me the strength and the knowledge to keep Mallory safe.

  He stared at the surprisingly clear photograph. It was easy to recognize Senator Caruso now that she’d pointed him out. But why would the guy go to a public charity event only to become upset when he was photographed? None of this made any sense.

  Had something else happened that night? Something significant enough to put Caruso on edge? Something that may have sent the entire house of cards that Jefferson built tumbling to the ground?

  His blood ran cold.

  What if Mallory had become a target not just because she’d overheard Caruso’s patio conversation, but because she saw or heard something with even more significance? Something so damaging, Caruso had no choice but to silence her forever?

  THREE

  Mallory rubbed the back of her neck. Holding her head at an awkward angle in order to read Jonah’s computer screen was giving her a neck ache to match her headache.

  They were crazy to think they might find something on the internet that would lead them to incriminating evidence against Anthony Caruso. She eased away from Jonah and reached for her orange juice.

  She was too exhausted to do any more surfing and Jonah must have been, too, since he shut down the computer and pulled out his wallet to pay the bill.

  “I have some cash, too, if you need some,” she offered.

  He scowled, apparently chauvinistic enough to dislike the idea of a woman paying her own way. “I’m fine. Let’s go. We both need a couple hours of sleep.”

  She followed him out of the café and across the street to their motel rooms. He opened the door, checking to make sure the room was safe before he stood back and allowed her to go inside.

  “Keep the connecting door unlocked, okay? Just in case.”

  Just in case what? She suppressed a shiver. “There’s no way the ski-mask guy could have followed us, right?”

  “No. But we can’t afford to let down our guard,
<
br />   either. Just humor me, okay?”

  She hesitated and then nodded. “Okay.”

  Jonah stared at her for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but then he turned and disappeared inside his room. She partially closed the connecting door on her side, before testing out the running water in the

  bathroom—which was pure bliss—and then climbing into bed. She fell asleep the instant her head hit the pillow.

  Mallory had no idea how long she slept, but much like the night before, a strange sound dragged her awake. She stayed perfectly still, straining to listen.

  She heard it again. A muffled sound coming from Jonah’s room. She climbed from her bed, pulled on her grungy clothes and pushed open the connecting door.

  Jonah was talking in his sleep, thrashing on the bed, obviously in the throes of a nightmare. She crossed over to shake his shoulder. “Jonah, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”

  Almost instantly, he shot upward and grabbed his gun. She shrank away, holding out her hand to calm him down. “It’s me, Jonah. Mallory. I was only trying to wake you up from your nightmare.”

  He slowly lowered his weapon, letting out his breath in a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I— You took me by surprise.”

  He avoided her gaze. A faint sheen of sweat covered his face and dampened the hair at his temples. Definitely a nightmare. “Jonah, who’s Drew? You were muttering something about Drew.”

  His expression closed, and she sensed that whatever the source of his nightmare, he wasn’t inclined to talk about it. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

  “No need to apologize.” She noticed with surprise that the Gideon Bible was lying open on his bedside table. Had Jonah actually been reading the Bible? The only person she knew who’d ever read the Bible on a regular basis was Alyssa.

  He must have noticed her gaze because he flashed a lopsided smile. “Renewing my faith helps me relax, especially in times of stress. You might want to give it a try.”

  She frowned and shook her head. “No thanks. Not after everything I’ve been through.”

  He frowned, but didn’t look surprised by her attitude. “I’m sure you have your reasons for not believing, Mallory, but have you ever considered how God might help shoulder your burden rather than add to it?”

  She wished there was a tactful way to change the subject. “You have no idea what I’ve been through. Having Anthony Caruso attempt to kill me isn’t the worst I’ve suffered.” She told herself to shut up before she found herself blubbering about her past.

  The last thing she wanted or needed was Jonah’s sympathy.

  “You’re right, Mallory. I don’t know everything you’ve suffered. But I do know about my own experience.” There was a long pause before he continued. “Drew was my partner. He was a few years older than me, and he taught me everything I needed to know about being a cop.”

  The stark agony in his eyes made her wish she’d never asked about his nightmare. She knew, only too well, how reliving the past only made it harder to forget.

  “One day, we caught this kid running drugs. He was young, barely eleven, and I wanted the guy who was pulling the strings on this kid. Drew wanted to haul him in, but I convinced him to try it my way first. The kid was so young, and he looked up at me with big eyes, telling me he’d show us where he was supposed to take the money. I believed him. Drew tried to talk me out of it, but I insisted. The kid led us right into a trap.”

  She gasped, the scene so vivid she felt as if she was right there with him.

  “And when the shooting started, I instinctively protected the kid who’d betrayed us, leaving my partner open. He died as a result of my actions.” Jonah’s expression was grim as he faced her. “So while I don’t know what you’ve been through, Mallory, I do know that God can help carry a heavy burden.”

  A long silence stretched between them, and she had no idea what to say. But she realized that Jonah’s past was just as difficult to live with as hers.

  Jonah reached out to touch the Bible. “Without faith, I would never have made it through the worst time of my life.”

  She gave a helpless shrug. “I guess I just don’t understand how believing in God helps.”

  “It’s hard to explain,” he admitted. “But I can tell you that God doesn’t abandon us when we need Him. He’s there for us, always.”

  She didn’t believe God was there for her. Not back when she was seventeen, or when Caruso’s thug tried to kill her.

  Unless God had sent Jonah to save her?

  No, she didn’t really believe that, and this wasn’t the time or place to argue with Jonah over religion.

  “Maybe at some point, you’ll give it a try,” Jonah said. “However, right now, we need to think of some way to get evidence against Caruso.”

  She was glad he let the subject drop. “I went back over the night of the fundraiser, and there is one other thing I remember. Although I’m not sure it means much.”

  He leaned forward. “What is it?”

  “There was a brief disagreement between Jefferson and Caruso. I didn’t really pay much attention then, but looking back, it was right about the time Jefferson took a phone call. I think the news may have been about Schaefer.”

  “Can you remember exactly what was said? By

  either Jefferson or Caruso?”

  “Caruso said something like, ‘I wouldn’t have to worry if you weren’t such an amateur.’” She wished she’d heard what they were saying. “At the time, I assumed they were talking about investments, but now I’m thinking the conversation may have referred to having Schaefer stabbed and being forced to attribute the stabbing to gang activity.”

  “You could be right. Nice detective work, Mallory.”

  She blushed and shrugged off the compliment. No doubt Jonah was simply trying to stay on her good side. “So now what? Where do we go from here?”

  He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Good question. Give me some time to pull myself together, and I’ll try to come up with a plan.”

  “As long as your plan doesn’t involve me turning myself in to the D.A.,” she murmured as she turned away. No matter how good of a detective Jonah was, he couldn’t possibly find proof she couldn’t even be sure existed. And they couldn’t stay on the run forever—they both had jobs, careers to get back to.

  A wave of hopelessness washed over her. For a fleeting moment, she surprised herself and considered trying to pray. Except she didn’t know how and didn’t really think God would listen to someone like her even if she did.

  She was better off relying only on herself—the way she’d always done.

  * * *

  Jonah examined his incision as well as he could in the mirror above the sink in the bathroom. It looked worse than he’d anticipated. He applied some antibacterial ointment before slapping a new gauze dressing over the area where he’d popped two stitches. At least the wound had stopped bleeding. He was glad Alyssa had forced him to bring first-aid supplies, although she’d no doubt be upset that he’d opened the wound. Belatedly remembering his antibiotics, he popped one, hoping the pills would be strong enough to ward off infection.

  For a moment he stared grimly at his reflection in the mirror. What he really needed to do was call his boss and ask for someone else to watch over Mallory. Not only was he still recuperating from his stab wound and subsequent surgery, he also was too close to making the same mistake he had in the past—letting his emotions get in the way of his job.

  He couldn’t cross the line and begin caring about Mallory. He never should have accepted her help in finding evidence against Caruso. She wasn’t a cop. What he needed to do was to convince his boss to put her up in some sort of safe house. A place where able-bodied cops could watch over her instead of a wounded warrior like him.

  As he dressed, his cell phone rang. He picked up his phone to see who’d called.

  He was expecting his boss, but it was Gage. Knowing Mallory would be thrilled to hear from her sister, he crossed over to gently
tap on the door between their rooms. “Mallory? It’s Gage. Do you want to talk?”

  “Yes!” She eagerly took the phone. “Alyssa?” Her face lit up with joy, and he turned away to give her some privacy. “What happened?”

  Jonah knew Alyssa would fill Mallory in on everything, in much greater detail than he had. He went back into his room and waited. When she was done, he’d call his boss.

  Mallory didn’t return for a good fifteen minutes, but when she handed him the phone, she was smiling. “Alyssa’s fine. She told me everything and then offered to blow off her surgery to come up here. I convinced her to stay put and take care of herself. Thankfully, for the first time ever, Gage agreed with me.”

  “I’m glad.” He took the phone and punched in his boss’s number.

  “Who are you calling?” she asked.

  “My boss. Lieutenant Michael Finley.”

  Her jaw dropped open in shock. “Your boss? I thought you said Alyssa sent you. I didn’t realize you were reporting everything to your boss.” She’d trusted Jonah with her life and didn’t appreciate how he’d held back important information.

  “I’m keeping Finley updated. He knows the plan is to find the top guy involved in Jefferson’s money-

  laundering scheme. Jefferson used way too much cash, and we were also able to trace his funds for the condo project to a Swiss bank account. I need to let Finley know we suspect Caruso.”

  The expression on her face indicated she wasn’t happy with that news. “I thought you said there was a warrant out for my arrest.”

  “There is, but I think I can convince Finley you’re being framed for Wasserman’s murder. And I think he’ll agree to put you up in a safe house.”

  “A safe house?” She glared at him with dismay. “Why would I want to do that? I’d rather stay with you.”

  He hardened his heart against the hurt reflected in her eyes. But he refused to let his emotions sway his decision. Putting Mallory in a safe house was the right thing to do. “Because you need to be safe, no matter what.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Her blue eyes narrowed with suspicion. “And what about you?”