Текст книги "Wicked for You"

Автор книги: Shayla Black

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

“You fucking bastard,” she growled.

Axel stepped toward her, his face imploring. “Take a deep breath. Think rationally. It’s not what you’re imagining, princess.”

“Of course it’s not. It never is.”

“Seriously. She crawled on me less than two seconds before you came around the corner. I didn’t touch her. I had nothing to do with it.”

“Stop! Just stop.” She threw up a hand to ward him off, icy betrayal chilling her bloodstream that otherwise sizzled with fury and scorn. “Don’t come near me. And don’t you dare touch me.”

“I guess she’s sensitive?” Patrice muttered. “I had no idea . . .”

“Shut up,” Mystery snarled. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by this little quickie fling but somehow I am. Two can play that game.”

Without warning, she turned and collided with Heath’s substantial body, then wrapped her arms around his neck and slanted her lips over his. He stiffened in shock—then began devouring her lips with his own like a starving man needing sustenance.

Mystery pulled away, dazed and out of breath. She didn’t feel vindicated or even happily spiteful. Instead, everything she’d done felt terribly wrong. She didn’t want Heath, and it wasn’t fair to use him to make Axel angry or lead him on. But she was so damn angry . . .

“Are you fucking serious?” Axel demanded. “That’s really how you’re going to play this?”

No. She wasn’t. No matter how she felt about Axel, she couldn’t be unfair to Heath. He’d done nothing but be a faithful protector and friend for six years.

She backed away and sent her bodyguard an apologetic glance. His dark eyes held hurt and censure that promised a long discussion later. A blade of shame struck her deep.

Curling her arms around herself, Mystery turned to Axel again to find him tucking in his shirt and righting his pants. The sight infuriated and hurt her all over again. New tears stung her eyes like acid.

“I believed you were different,” she sobbed, wishing she could hold it back. “I believed it when you told me you were just friends with Sweet Pea. I let myself trust you. I fell in love with you. I’m such an idiot.”

Mystery stumbled away. She had to get out of here, away from him, before she broke down and succumbed to the urge to ask if there was any way she’d mistaken what she’d seen and whether Patrice really had been the aggressor, taking Axel by surprise.

But it was time to accept that no man was perfect, even the one who had once saved her life and starred as the hero of all her fantasies. At the end of the day, he was just a man, like her father, who was a fabulous director, friend, coworker, and dad. But he couldn’t be perfect at everything, and he happened to be a lousy mate. Axel had so many amazing qualities, she could have put up with some faults. Why did his have to be that he was a cheating asshole?

The question ripped her insides apart, and all she kept seeing in her mind was the waitress’s lips against his, her hands at his zipper.

“Let’s go.” Heath shot Axel a look of disbelief and disgust, then wrapped his arm around her.

Her aunt stood stock-still, looking too shocked to even breathe. “Oh, my . . . You poor girl.”

Mystery let the two of them tuck her between them and lead her away from the darkened hallway and the terrible nightmare unfolding.

“Don’t you leave, Mystery.” Axel came after her, his heavy footfalls resounding on the old flooring. “Don’t you walk out on me before we’ve talked.”

More tears stabbed her eyes. She covered her face in her hands. Yes, she’d promised they would talk things out from now on. He’d spanked her for leaving once before . . . then made love to her so masterfully. No, he’d fucked her body and her head all at once, and she didn’t owe him a damn thing.

Why would he bother cheating? Did he simply have a wandering eye? Did he get a thrill out of indulging in a little something on the side? Or had he viewed her as nothing more than a path to fame or a meal ticket? Maybe she’d never been remotely relevant to him at all.

The thought only made her sob more. And when Heath shoved her toward the exit, pausing only long enough to throw some bills on the table for their meal, Mystery didn’t fight him.

“If you do this, you know how I’ll take it,” Axel shouted after her.

Yes, if she walked out on him now, they would be done forever. He’d warned her. But what did they have to save? If he couldn’t love just her, then they had absolutely nothing.

Heath pushed the door open and gave her a nudge. She resisted for a moment, then turned to look at Axel one last time. He looked big, agitated, so damn masculine. And blurry. More tears spilled and scalded her cheeks.

Maybe they’d always been doomed. If everything happened for a reason, maybe this had transpired because she’d needed to see the real him to grow up, move on. Maybe she’d witnessed this so she could finally fall out of love with him.

“Go to hell!” she shouted.

Then she ran out the door, tumbled into the car, and refused to look back.

Chapter Seventeen

THAT motherfucker, Heath Powell, drove Mystery away before Axel could say more than a handful of words to her. He heard the last of the spinning tires and watched the black car disappear down the street. His guts fell somewhere around his toes and his heart broke open wide.

Why the fuck was he just now grasping the fact that he’d fallen completely in love with Mystery Mullins? Not that his stupid ass realization did him any good now.

Hell, she’d blindsided him. One minute the sex had been so hot she’d nearly melted him, but his need for more than her body had been something new. Axel hadn’t known how to interpret it. He’d never felt anything like that. So he’d avoided labeling it.

Wasn’t that biting him in the ass now? Maybe if he’d realized his feelings sooner, he could have simply told her he loved her and they could have avoided this stupid misunderstanding at the café. Instead, she’d seen him “cheating” and overreacted. But Axel kind of understood because when he’d seen her kiss Heath, he’d felt some weird red haze jack up his temper. Then she’d threatened to leave, and he’d totally overreacted, too.

So rather than holding her close, he got to watch Mystery skid out of the parking lot with the man she’d locked lips with behind the wheel. Axel tried to imagine spending his life without her. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to.

So what now? Chase after her like a damn puppy? Axel sighed at the picture that painted. But wasn’t that better than spending the rest of his life with his insides crushed and feeling as if he were missing the other half of his soul?

Put like that, the dog scenario sounded way better.

But would that be the end of it? Would she run out on him yet again because she wasn’t capable of the death-do-us-part, forever sort of love? He didn’t want to be gloom and doom, but for the third time in twenty-fours, she’d left him cold. How was he supposed to get over that?

Axel stood with his hands on his hips, gaping at the street, though the town car was long gone from view. He had no ride back to his rental at the farm. He’d have to find one, then wait for Mystery and her aunt to return so he could talk some sense into her. He’d figure out why he’d suddenly felt a pressing need to pee yet again and apologize for not taking the waitress’s overtures seriously until it was too late. If that didn’t work, if Mystery wouldn’t talk to him . . . he’d have to figure out what fucking tactic to take next, because he couldn’t give up. That only led to the bottom of a bottle and decades of misery.

“What just happened?” a woman asked behind him.

He turned to find Patrice looking brutally confused and grabbed her arm. “You tell me. Why the hell did you climb all over me uninvited?”

Grimacing, she yanked her arm free and removed the elastic band securing her blond tresses in a ponytail. “I was hired to. I’m an actress. Someone contacted my agent and paid my travel expenses out to this one-pony town to pull a practical joke on you.”

Axel heard her words—and she might as well have been speaking a foreign language. “What?”

“Yeah. I’m from L.A. My agent just told me that someone important wanted me to play a joke on one of his friends. I got your picture and some instructions . . .” She shrugged. “I’m so sorry. I really had no idea it would screw up everything between you and your girlfriend.”

Who the hell would do that? And why? Axel’s thoughts raced. Someone wanted him separated from Mystery and had figured out that she’d stomp away if she believed he couldn’t keep his pants zipped. He could only see two possible motives: Either someone didn’t like his relationship with Mystery—Heath came to mind—or someone dangerous wanted her to be minus a protector who would lay down his life to save hers.

“How much?” he demanded.

“What?”

“Money. How much were you paid to do this?”

“Ten grand, plus travel expenses,” she admitted. “I feel terrible. I really am sorry.”

Too late for that. “Call your agent and ask him who hired you.”

“I asked before I took the gig. He wouldn’t tell me, but I needed the money to make rent. The only condition was anonymity. Sal told me that whoever hired me swore you’d know who it was.”

So Heath was toying with him . . . or the killer was. Axel did some quick mental math. Could Heath come up with ten grand plus travel expenses in less than twenty-four hours? Since Joaquin had already given him the guy’s bank balance before Patrice had been hired, Axel knew the answer was no. Heath had investments, but none he could get his hands on right away.

Since he didn’t think Heath wanted to kill Mystery, this stunt probably had nothing to do with her love life and everything to do with the reason for her mother’s murder. That made Heath the last line of Mystery’s defense against the psycho hunting her.

Axel groaned. Yeah, he’d said that he wouldn’t come after Mystery if she left him again. But he couldn’t stay away. The circumstances had been extenuating, and someone had set them up to fail. He intended to make sure they didn’t succeed, especially if her life was on the line.

“Shit,” Axel cursed, feeling behind the eight ball. He had to talk to Heath, ensure the Brit knew something was up and the killer was likely planning to make his move.

Who wanted Mystery dead? Who, among her friends or family, had the money and connections to hire this actress at the last minute? Gail Leedy had chosen the restaurant, which cast suspicion on her, but the woman didn’t have any money to hire someone. Axel had seen her bank balance, too. After selling off the land around her farm for a pittance to a neighbor about ten years ago, she’d lived on it and her salary from the medical clinic, saving a modest amount in an IRA. She donated more money to religious organizations each month than to the upkeep of her own home. And why would the pious older woman want her niece dead?

Axel sighed. He didn’t have time for a fucking puzzle. He had to get to Mystery pronto, but he had no car and didn’t know the name of her attorney’s office.

Beside him, Patrice—if that was even her name—hovered, looking utterly contrite.

He turned to her. “Did you meet the café’s manager or owner before you started this farce?”

“A waitress.” She nodded quickly, as if finally glad she could be of assistance. “I’m actually taking Betty’s shift today. She’s waiting in the employee break room to take over again.”

“Ask her to come out here. I need to talk to her. Tell her it’s a matter of life and death.” At least Axel suspected it was.

“S-sure.” Patrice darted off.

Yanking his phone from his belt, Axel scrolled through his contacts until he found Heath’s number. It rang once . . . twice . . . a third time—then rolled to voice mail.

He swore as the last of the Brit’s clipped greeting played. “Mystery is in danger. I have a bad feeling that once she gets her hands on whatever her mother left for her, all hell will break loose. Call me as soon as you get this. If I can figure out where you’re going, I’ll head in that direction.”

Axel ended the call, then someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to find Patrice standing there with a salty older woman whose hair was a very unlikely shade of red. She was sixty-five if she was a day. She chomped on a piece of gum, looking at him as if she’d seen and done it all and now it bored her terribly.

“Betty?” he asked her.

“That’s me. What you need?” She smiled. “Back in my day, I would have done just about anything to help a hunk like you.”

Nice, but they didn’t have time for memory lane now. He cleared his throat. “My girlfriend has gone to an attorney’s office to deal with the last provisions of a will. I’m told the office is about three miles east of here. Any idea whose office I should be looking for?”

She nodded as if he’d asked an easy question. “Sure. You want Press and Osborne. I’ll give you the address, but you head down the main drag . . .”

Axel took note as the woman gave him directions, committing cross streets and the name of the building in which the offices were located to memory.

“Thank you. Can either of you give me a ride there or tell me where to find a taxi?”

“I gotta start my shift. Dinner rush starts here about five, and we’re still a mess from lunch.” She sent Patrice an accusing stare.

The blonde held up her hands, stare incredulous. “I’m an actress, not a waitress.”

“And a slob, too. You can get out as soon as you pay me the two hundred dollars for giving you my shift.”

Patrice rolled her eyes and extracted a wad of bills from a pocket in her little skirt. She shoved a handful of bills into Betty’s palm. “If I never come here again, I’ll be thrilled.”

Ditto for him, Axel thought.

“You got a car?” he asked the actress.

“No. I have a shuttle coming to my hotel at five to take me to the airport. The hotel is only a few blocks, so I walked.”

Frustration crawled over Axel like a million stinging ants. “Can either of you tell me how to find a fucking taxi in this town before my girlfriend dies?”

At that, Betty scrambled to attention. “Yeah. Should I call the police?”

For a crime that hadn’t actually happened yet? The cops wouldn’t do a damn bit of good until it was too late. “I can do that. Just get me a taxi.”

As Betty darted away to do his bidding, Axel stabbed at the screen of his phone again. He only knew one person who had money to burn, contacts in Hollywood, and secrets to keep. He intended to get the son of a bitch on the phone now.

Finally, he pressed the button to engage the call.

“Hello?” Marshall Mullins answered almost instantly.

“I’ll skip the ‘how-the-fuck-could-you’ speech and get right to asking where she is.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, your plan to send me an actress to play the role of waitress slash nympho worked damn well, and now Mystery is convinced I’m a cheating scum.” Like you. “She’s run off with Heath and her aunt and left me behind at some craptastic diner while the secrets you’ve been holding in are breathing down her neck. But I guess you planned it like that.”

“Why would I do that?” he asked incredulously. “I’ve wanted you to stay with my daughter since the danger started. You and Heath are the only two I trust with her safety.”

“The taxi will be here in a few,” Betty whispered in his other ear. “Good luck.”

When Axel turned to nod at her, he noticed that the jaded woman’s face had softened. “Thanks.”

He stepped outside to await his ride and turned his focus on Mullins again. “Did you have anything to do with your wife’s murder? Did you pay someone to off her? Who’s going to rub Mystery out here in Kansas? You’ll have an even better alibi this time, by the way, being over a thousand miles away. Smart thinking.”

“You’re way the hell out of line, Dillon,” Mullins roared. “I didn’t kill Julia. I didn’t have her killed, either. I would never harm a hair on Mystery’s head. Why else would I send her to the States with protection if I wanted her dead?”

“You tell me. You’re keeping a shitload of secrets, and it’s putting her in danger. So you start talking and tell me whatever you’ve kept quiet. If you don’t and something terrible happens to the woman I love, so help me, I will hunt you down. One day when you least expect it, you will find me beside you in an alley and I’ll have even less mercy for you than you did for your wife and daughter. You have no idea how painful I’ll make your death or how much I’ll relish it.”

“Whoa!” Mullins choked. “What’s happened? Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

“I don’t have time. If you’re serious about keeping Mystery safe, prove it by telling me what the fuck you’re hiding from her and the rest of the world.”

Her father sighed. “Let me see if I can get ahold of Heath and have him skip this appointment with the attorney and take her to a safe location.”

“I tried to call him already. No answer.”

“Frankly, I don’t think you’re his favorite person, so he may not answer you. Hang on.”

“All right, but if you double-cross me . . . I’ve warned you.”

The director let out a rough breath. “You did. I swear, my only concern is Mystery’s safety. I’ll be right back with you.”

Axel squirmed in his seat. Damn it, he needed to pee again, and he had no idea why. He didn’t have time to deal with this shit.

The minute seemed to take ten years before Mullins clicked back over and let out a panicked groan. “Heath isn’t answering me, either. You think something is wrong?”

Axel could almost guarantee it was. “Tell me whose secret you’re keeping or what you’re protecting. It may help me save her life. Because I can’t think of any other way to help her right now.”

Mullins gave him a shaky sigh. “All right, but I kept this to myself purely for Mystery’s protection. I never wanted anything to touch her, and I never dreamed that it could become her worst nightmare. What I’m about to say can never leak out to the public. And it can’t ever reach her ears.”

“Go ahead. I’m listening . . .”

*   *   *

IN the passenger’s seat, Mystery curled her knees against her chest, heels clinging to the corner of the seat, and lowered her head. She didn’t want anyone to see her cry. Her aunt would only tell her to rely on God. Maybe that would be a comfort to the woman, but Mystery couldn’t manage spiritual just now. And she had no right to ask Heath for anything after she’d tried to use him to make Axel feel as wretched as she did.

What had she been thinking? Nothing, clearly. She’d let emotion take over like an idiot. Normally, she’d scoff at people who couldn’t keep their crap together. In fact, Mystery couldn’t remember a time since that spat with Axel at the hotel in the ghost town when she’d been worked up enough to lose all sense of logic. But now . . . she knew how being completely shocked and emotional screwed with her head.

She’d lashed out at Axel for hurting her, and it definitely hadn’t been her proudest moment. In fact, she’d really like to forget it, go back to the wee hours of the morning when she’d been cozied up with Axel in bed, feeling so loved and secure. She knew that unleashing her temper, as she’d done after Axel’s rejection in Cerro Gordo, solved nothing. She also knew how much running out would hurt Axel. But she’d done it anyway. Now she had to face that fact, like life, head-on.

“I’m sorry, Heath.”

He nodded slowly, then glanced into the rearview mirror at her aunt in the backseat. “Where to?”

“Drive down this road about two miles. Three blocks up, take a left. It’s the second building on your right.”

“Very good,” he said to her aunt as they stopped at a light. He stared straight ahead, as if he refused to look at Mystery.

She winced. She’d hurt his feelings. Somehow, she had to make amends.

“Kissing you in that situation was wrong and unfair,” she whispered. “If I could take it back, I—”

“But you can’t,” he cut in softly. “And you would never have kissed me voluntarily if you hadn’t been trying to hurt Axel.”

Mystery wanted to say something that would soothe Heath, but he wasn’t wrong, and lying would only make matters worse. “I’m sorry.”

“This trip has made me realize that I’ve been an idiot. When your father first hired me, you were a lovely girl, and I was a grieving widower. I didn’t see you as a woman. But as I got to know you, I enjoyed your company, your wit and smile, the way you slowly came out of your shell. I liked that you needed me, confided in me, persuaded me to emerge from my self-imposed exile. I didn’t realize until I saw you with Axel how completely I’d fallen in love with you. I’ve been blind all this time. Now I can’t unsee what’s in my heart.”

Mystery peered over at him, eyes willing and wishing she could comfort him, even as she acknowledged that she was the problem. And that made her feel awful. “I care for you. I really do.”

“But today proved that I’ll never be more than a substitute for you. Even if you never see Axel again, you love him. I could probably take advantage of your vulnerability and coax you into some sort of relationship for a few days, a few weeks, maybe even forever. But you’ll never truly be mine, and I must break away from this unhealthy connection and start living again.”

A bolt of shock struck her square in the chest. “What are you saying?”

“As soon as I have you back safely in London and delivered to your father, I’ll be resigning. If he’s interested in hiring another bodyguard for you, I can recommend several who would be excellent. But I cannot stay.”

She didn’t deserve to indulge in a pity party, but she couldn’t seem to not make herself the guest of honor. How had she managed to screw up everything so catastrophically so quickly? How did she pull herself out of it?

Suck it up, cupcake. Tomorrow, she could be on her way back to the UK. She’d sort through whatever her mom had left her, along with the mess she’d made of her life, and figure out what to do next. Right now, she just had to get through this meeting.

Mystery sniffled and rifled in the glove box for some tissues, using them to dab her eyes. “I understand. I never meant to hurt you.”

He answered with a manly grunt and focused unwaveringly on the road ahead. Finally, they reached the attorney’s office and parked. After checking her face—her eyes were a puffy nightmare, but at least she hadn’t been wearing mascara—Mystery dug some lipstick out of her purse and applied it.

“Are you all right?” her aunt asked, clucking like a mother hen.

“I’ll be fine. What floor?” Mystery asked more to change the subject than because she really cared.

“Fourth.” Aunt Gail smiled and patted her hand.

As Heath exited the car, he looked around cautiously, taking note of the street, passersby, other cars, any open windows. Mystery knew the drill. He went through the rundown in his head anytime they were in public.

“Do you still have the key I gave you?”

Mystery nodded at her aunt. “In my purse. I’m ready.”

“Are you?” Heath asked.

No, but she’d run out of time. She’d dragged her feet in claiming her mother’s belongings at eighteen, telling herself that her friends and future were more important than a bunch of her mom’s junk from the past. The truth was, she hadn’t really wanted to sift through the contents and have to deal with the aftermath of what she found. Then she’d moved to London, so the excuses had been easy. When would she ever get to Emporia, Kansas, again, right? But in order to pursue what she’d been feeling for Axel, she’d had to give her father a plausible excuse, and retrieving her mother’s effects had slipped off her tongue. Now that her relationship with Axel was in shambles, Mystery wished she could snuggle in front of the fire in her flat back home with her laptop, her characters, and a glass of wine, far away from the uncertainty and danger.

“Sure,” she murmured.

In front of the elevator a sign affixed to a dangling red chain hanging between two stanchions read OUT OF ORDER. Aunt Gail groaned as they made their way up the stairs, huffing and puffing hard by the third flight. En route, they passed a dentist’s office, a tutoring facility, and quite a few suites under refurbishment.

When they reached the fourth floor, Heath opened the door and peeked out. Once he deemed the empty space safe, he waved them out of the stairwell.

Mystery stepped through, checking the open landing with faux trees and nondescript dark-wood and beige chairs. The short pile carpeting in an uninspiring shade of oatmeal and the wall sconces with brass accents looked tired and out of date.

Whatever. She just wanted this over with. She was concerned that whoever had left the threatening picture in her hotel room in Dallas would be lying in wait for her here. Mystery would love to believe that, somehow, she’d lost the psycho’s trail and could just search her mother’s belongings in peace, but a tingling at the back of her neck told her otherwise. And after all the drama of the day, she absolutely didn’t need more.

Inside the office’s faux frosted-glass double doors, a fortysomething receptionist looked up from her gossip magazine, barely concealing irritation at the interruption, and buzzed Mr. Osborne. Two minutes later, she ushered them to the back, past a coffee station, a dark office, then to the end of the hall. The placard on the door read NELSON OSBORNE.

A man pushing sixty rose to his average height, wearing his gray suit well as he stood and greeted them with a jaunty wave. The movement didn’t ruffle his artificially dark hair, sprayed into place just so.

“Come on in.” He stuck out his hand. “Welcome. I’m Nelson.”

“Hi. I’m Julia Mullins’s daughter, Mystery.” They shook hands, then she turned to the others. “This is my mother’s sister, Gail Leedy.”

“I think we met years ago,” Osborne said.

“I believe so,” her aunt said placidly, then scooted to the far side of the desk to take one of the two guest chairs.

“And this is my . . . friend Heath.” Mystery hesitated to admit he was a bodyguard. To some, it sounded either paranoid or pretentious. And if Osborne or anyone in his office was somehow in on the plot to kill her, she didn’t want to tip off the fact that she’d come armed with protection.

But Heath gave himself away when he nodded sharply, cased the office, then took up sentry by the door. So inconspicuous . . . Mystery sighed.

Osborne sat again. “You look so much like your mother. It’s uncanny. She was a beautiful woman, too. I was so sorry to hear about her sudden and terrible passing.”

Mystery really didn’t want to rehash it now. She felt as if she’d reached the drama quotient lately, and she’d grieve her mother’s death again on its anniversary next Tuesday. “Thank you. As you know, I’ve come for her effects.”

He nodded. “We’ll have a few papers to sign, but let’s claim your mother’s belongings, then you can acknowledge receipt and whatnot. You have your key?”

“I do.” She nodded, wondering where Mom’s safe-deposit box was located. This office didn’t look like a secure facility, and she couldn’t imagine where the attorney would keep such things properly locked up.

“We’ll be heading to the bank across the street. I’ve given them a copy of your mother’s death certificate and prepared the other necessary paperwork. Your aunt, as executor of her will, provided testament that you are now the exclusive box holder and, therefore, the only person who can open it. As long as you have a photo ID, we should sail through the process.” Osborne rose from his seat.

Mystery followed suit. While keeping her mother’s possessions at the bank made more sense, she wished Osborne could have simply had them waiting for her. Legally, she knew that wasn’t possible, but she was anxious to have this behind her and return safely to the farm so she could lick her wounds in private. And she had to admit that she hoped she’d see Axel if he came back for his duffel and rental car. No idea what she’d say to him. She didn’t know how to reconcile so many red flags that pointed to him being a cheater with the hero she’d first fallen for. Had she gotten it all wrong today? Even if she had, she didn’t think he’d tolerate the fact that she’d told him off and walked out.

“I’ll follow you over there,” Mystery murmured.

“Very good.” Osborne stepped around his desk and sent a wary glance Heath’s way. “Whenever you’re ready . . .”

Aunt Gail fidgeted in her seat. “Goodness, I’d rather not have to walk up and down the stairs again. Your elevator is out of order, and I’m afraid I’m not recovered from the last hike. May I stay here?”

Osborne looked around his fastidious office. Not a single sheet of paper cluttered his massive mahogany desk. He ensured all his filing cabinets were locked and closed his laptop, which likely needed a password to access. “Of course. Forgive me, but I’m required to be cautious with other people’s sensitive legal issues.”

“Of course.” Gail smiled in relief. “May I help myself to coffee?”

“Please do.”

Mystery followed Osborne out the door, down the stairs, and to the bank. It was a sterile environment that tried to look friendly, with posters of people supposedly happy about taking out loans. Or maybe she was just feeling cynical right now because she was miserable thinking about Axel, not to mention worried that someone would try to kill her.

Within moments, a female bank employee in gray pants and a blue sweater had given her a form to sign and checked her ID. Everyone followed the woman with the flowing brown curls into the room with the safe-deposit boxes, passing row after row of the drawers in different sizes. Toward the back, the bank’s officer produced her key. Mystery fished the other from her purse. Together, they opened the dual locks and withdrew the box from its slot to place it on the lone table in the adjacent room.

“I’ll leave you to look through the contents. When you’re done, let me know.” The young woman gave her a bland smile, did a double take as she discreetly checked out Heath, then melted away.

Osborne stepped back. “Would you prefer for me to stay or go?”

“I think I’d like to do this alone,” she murmured, both because it was true and because she wasn’t sure she could trust him. “Thanks for understanding.”

“Of course.” He turned away and headed out of the vault.