Deadly Promises (Tracers #2.5)(11)

“If you fixed her light, how come it’s dark in there?”

CeCe opened and closed the mudroom door to the garage. Then she flicked on the fluorescent lights, which shined brightly.

“This is great,” she cooed, wishing she’d taken some acting lessons in school. “Thanks, Jeremy.”

Jeremy turned to her as she emerged from the garage. “I already moved your statue base to my garage. Got a friend who owns a body shop. He’ll fix the crack in the fiberglass.”

She did not want to owe him any more favors. Not if it meant treating him so poorly every time her brother showed up. “That’s nice of you to offer, but—”

“I’m leaving Tuesday morning on a business project that’ll take a while, but I’ll have the base returned to you before the end of the week.” Jeremy nodded at Vinny with, “Nice meeting you,” then walked to his house.

Not a swish in that butt.

“He didn’t get fresh, did he?” Vinny stared hard at the house next door.

“Him?” CeCe forced a laugh. “He comes up with fresh ideas, like the other day when he helped me arrange my new flower bed.” Jeremy hadn’t even known the flowers were pansies or had a clue about planting them. But he’d smiled the whole time like he enjoyed himself.

Where was Jeremy going Tuesday morning? And for how long? A “business project” sounded like one of those long trips the landlady had mentioned.

“I dunno,” Vinny muttered, unconvinced. Just as she’d figured, he started doubting if Jeremy was gay the minute he met him.

“You’re the one who told me he’d be a good neighbor,” she reminded her brother.

“He don’t look too swishy to me.”

“How would you know? You’ve never been around gay men.”

“You got that right.”

“Well, the ones I know from Jeremy’s gym are all buff and very nice. Professionals who treat me with great respect…”

“Okay, fine, whatever. I don’t need a lecture on being PC.” He finally turned his attention back to her. “I got to leave tomorrow morning early for a meeting in D.C., but I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

She had to bite her lip to keep from cheering. One night, and a day, without a Doberman chaperone. Taking a breath to calm her excitement, CeCe said, “Sounds important.”

“Family business.”

She tried not to frown and hoped “family business” wasn’t something not quite kosher going on. But she really didn’t want to know what.

“You be okay tomorrow?” he asked.

Her heart thudded in her chest. “Sure,” she said as calmly as she could to keep from piquing his interest. She’d have tonight with Jeremy. She’d be more than okay.

Vinny sent another sharp look at Jeremy’s house but must have decided he posed no immediate threat to her.

She smiled. He had no idea the threat she posed for Jeremy the minute Vinny drove away. But that gave her just one night if Jeremy was going somewhere this week. Crud.

“Let’s go get some dinner, sis.”

What? CeCe let out a strained breath. Her libido was screaming, but if she passed on dinner without a good excuse he’d get suspicious. “I’d love to. Let me grab some shoes and I’ll be right out.”

She ran into her house, digging around for a phone book. What if Jeremy’s number wasn’t listed? Her cell phone rang. When she answered, it was Jeremy.

“Where’d you get my cell phone number?” she asked.

“You wrote the flower order I picked up for you last week on a business card with your number.”

She slapped her head. What a dunce. “I’m sorry, but I can’t make dinner. My brother asked me to eat with him to discuss something.” Liar, liar, life on fire. Would Jeremy ask her to come over later for a nightcap? That’s what always happened in the movies.

The silence that followed squeezed her heart.

“That’s fine.” Jeremy didn’t sound like it was fine. “I’ll make sure Blade gets your fiberglass base back by the end of the week. Bye.”

“Bye.” The phone clicked in her ear.

She couldn’t believe she’d blown her chance.

SAM THE MAN shivered in spite of the muggy air still heating Atlanta at midnight. Every move he made hurt. Busted skin under his puffy eyes and cuts crisscrossing his chest still oozed blood. Threatening his balls had forced his hand.

He wasn’t a f*cking CIA agent for crying out loud.

If he hadn’t been double-crossed he’d have delivered the goods without even getting his shoes dirty. The fool that screwed him was dead for sure. Only person Starface had ever kept around for more than a year had been Dorvan and even he was dispensable if the bone crusher screwed up.

Sam didn’t give two shits about any of them. He hoped stalling just a little longer would give him one last shot at getting out of this alive. The FBI had to be in this area, searching for him. Had they scoured the area and given up, thinking he was gone for good?

“Where’d you put it?” Dorvan led the hike through Marietta Square where little stirred in the park area of the square just after midnight.

“Told you. In the goddamn statue.” Sam squinted into the dark, peeking everywhere Dorvan’s light stroked the terrain. But no hint of the FBI’s presence registered with him. Come on guys, be here. He’d run out of options and finally agreed to show Starface exactly where he left the memory card before Dorvan got to try a new way to make him talk. Perspiration pebbled across his lip. Sam’s new black shirt stuck to his skin where blood had soaked through and dried.