Chapter 11
Victoria
It was after ten by the time Victoria parked her car and walked up the walkway to her house.
A light breeze ruffled her hair that had lost all its curl from earlier today and now lay flat past her shoulders.
In her hand, her keys jingled as she walked thinking of the lengthy baby name discussion she, Clinton and Grace had over dinner.
From the house two doors down Yoda, Mrs. Graham’s bichon frise was yipping loudly in front of their open living room window.
She could hear him as if he were dancing around on her steps.
Leo Mack, her next door neighbor had his blinds closed, probably didn’t want to see anything else after he’d seen the car the other night.
She took the six steps leading to her door one at a time, tired from the day’s work and more than ready to get a hot shower and climb into her comfortable bed. But when she looked up at her door, her heart stopped.
A single piece of blue tape held a sheet of paper in place just beneath the peep hole.
She swallowed hard, kick-starting her brain to send a message for her to take a breath.
Her mouth opened and air whooshed out as she closed her eyes.
Opening them again only proved she still had perfect vision as her optometrist had told her just four months ago at her last exam.
When she figured standing and staring was as pointless as the fear rippling up and down her spine she reached forward and pulled the paper from the door.
Be Careful Of The Company You Keep
805 Agosta Luna Boulevard
She read the typed message once more before her eyes fell to the bottom half of the page where a picture had been printed. A picture of her and Ben having lunch at the diner earlier today.
Victoria knew exactly where Agosta Luna was and who lived there. She was down the steps and climbing back into her car before she could think of a reason not to go.
Ben
It had been a long day, made into a long evening by the meeting Ben had with Noah. Trent and Devlin had been able to tap the phones at Ethel Jonas’ house.
“There’s a guy sitting on the house in a black SUV,” Noah told Ben when they sat in his car just outside the city limits.
A defense attorney meeting with a homicide detective wasn’t totally strange, but they didn’t want to bring any unnecessary attention to the side investigation they had going on.
“There’s a shift change around ten p.m. but other than that the SUV doesn’t move. I can’t put cops on the house without an official investigation going on,” Noah said.
“But there is an official investigation regarding these murders in progress,” Ben replied.
“I’m working the Ebony Reece murder, not the Congressman’s,” was Noah’s solid comeback.
Ben had nodded his agreement. “That’s why I gave Trent the go ahead to do whatever was necessary to find Alayna. He’s got a wiretap on the phones in the house and he’s got eyes on that same SUV as well as the house.”
“Cool,” Noah said with a nod. “We need to find her soon. Trial starts next week.”
“And Vega’s getting antsy, that’s why he tried to scare Victoria.”
“I don’t know about that one,” Noah said.
“I do and I don’t like it. So the sooner we get this SOB the better,” he’d said and come home.
Now he was bone tired and a little hungry.
He’d just trudged up the steps and was in his bedroom unbuttoning his shirt when his doorbell rang.
Before he could even curse at whoever was daring to come to his house at this time of night the person was banging on the door as if their life depended on him answering it immediately.
Taking that into consideration he headed down the steps and to the door pulling it open ready to yell.
Then he saw her and all coherent thought fled from his mind.
Bathed in the light that illuminated the alcove leading to his front door he saw her eyes glittering with emotion—exactly what emotion he’d re-visit later.
She stood with one hand planted firmly on her hip, one leg slightly forward.
On said legs were black jeans that looked as if they were made especially for a woman with this figure, long legs and curvy hips.
Her top was intriguing as well, fitting and some shiny feminine material, it hugged her breasts, thin straps at both shoulders tempting him to the point of distraction.
And those shoes—Ben didn’t have sisters, but he did have cousins and they considered themselves well-versed in the area of fashion—fashion divas he’d heard them say.
That’s not to mention that his cousins had married a fashion designer and a supermodel, so he could safely say he knew a thing or two about women’s attire.
And the shoes Victoria was wearing were definitely of the kick-a-guy-in-the-gut-sexy variety.
Hot pink, high heels, peep toe, that’s all that really mattered as he swallowed hard and tried—even harder for composure.
“Victoria,” he managed finally.
“What the hell is this?” she asked and before he could answer, thrust a piece of paper so close to his face he couldn’t begin to read what it said if he really wanted to.
Which, he kind of didn’t. Words on a piece of paper were the farthest thing from his mind as long as she stood in front of him dressed the way she was, and smelling…damn, smelling absolutely enticing the way she did.
“Ah, it looks like a piece of paper,” he said with a slight chuckle.
She made a motion that he could swear was of the attack nature, and he reacted instantly by grabbing both her wrists and pushing them down to her sides.
“Is this some type of joke? If so, it’s not funny!” she yelled.
Ben stepped forward, pulling her so that she was flush against his body and he could look down into eyes that he could now see were filled with rage.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about but I’d be happy to take a look at whatever it is you have in your hand and offer an explanation if I can,” he said, trying for calm even though it was clear she was off in the other direction.
“Oh, I’m sure you can. Let go of me,” she told him, her voice considerably steadier.
He released her, stepped back inside and signaled for her to do the same.
She eyed him, not suspiciously, but definitely warily.
She was afraid to come into his house, even though she’d driven all the way over here.
It was possible she hadn’t thought she’d need to come inside.
Questions could be asked from anywhere. But not with Ben.
He closed the door and when he turned back to her, caught her looking around. She would be interested in how he lived, but she’d never admit it. That would be like somehow admitting that she liked him or was interested in him, two things she’d tried valiantly to hide over the years.
“I found this on my door when I came home. I want you to explain it. Then I want you to stay away from me and away from my case,” she said when she turned abruptly the shield of disinterest back in place.
Ben walked to her, taking the paper she’d thrust forward from her hand. He read it and cringed, first with a cold shiver that moved methodically through his body from head to toe in record time. Then, with rage that desperately craved an outlet and left him momentarily speechless.
“Was there anyone around your house? Any cars you didn’t recognize?”
“No,” she insisted. “And I’m still waiting for you to tell me why I’m receiving this. It’s your address and a picture of us.”
“I can see that,” he mused then moved in, touching her elbow. “Let’s sit down.”
“I don’t want to sit,” she said pulling her arm from his grasp.
“Well, I do.” He actually needed to or he just might go out and try to find Vega himself. Instead, Ben walked through the living room into his den, across the deep cranberry colored carpet to the bar occupying the shortest wall at the back of the room.
He set the note down on the bar, gently, as if it might rip if he balled it up and pitched it into the trash like he wanted. No, he would keep his composure, that’s what he always did. No matter what.
The first drink went down fast, two fingers of whiskey. Hot and potent, stinging his throat and warming his chest. The second, same type, same amount, slightly harder punch.
“It’s Vega isn’t it? He knows we’re talking about him,” she said walking into the room, her legs perfectly balanced on those sky-high heels.
“I don’t like that he’s turned his attention to you. I don’t like it at all.” Those words didn’t accurately depict his rage at this moment, but he was still attempting to hold his shit together for her sake.
She waved a hand. “Then you should’ve thought about that before you suggested lunch in a very public place.”
“He’d already shifted to you. The moment you walked into that courtroom he decided to go after you.” The words were sour in his throat, but that didn’t make them any less true.
“But he’s not coming after me. I mean, a note on my door, tear gas in my window, all just a scare tactic?” she asked. The questions were clearly bravado, because her voice cracked.
Ben rubbed a hand down his face, moreso to break the contact of her intense and yes, fearful gaze, than anything else. He took a deep breath because this was new territory he was about to venture into. New, but inevitable.
Leaving the comfort he’d found at the bar he pulled out one of the chairs to the long glass-topped dining room table he rarely used and sat down. “Come here,” he told her.
She didn’t move.
He wasn’t surprised.
“Come here and I’ll answer all your questions,” he tried again, resisting the urge to snag her by the waist and pull her down onto his lap.
From there he would hold her tight, so tight she might not be able to take a breath, but she would certainly feel him completely covering her.
Sheltering her, protecting her, because that’s exactly what he planned to do.