Unauthorised Passion/Intimate Knowledge Page 12

  He cleared his throat. “Yes, I was just about to ask you—”

  No sooner had she opened the door, than the phone started to ring again.

  “Maybe you should get that,” he muttered.

  She glanced reluctantly inside the suite. “They’ll call back.”

  Who was she trying to evade? Jack wondered. Owen Fleming?

  He wanted to believe that, he realized. He wanted to believe that she’d really meant it when she said her involvement with Fleming was over. And Jack didn’t want to hold the indiscretion against her because, frankly, he hadn’t exactly been Mr. Innocent himself.

  Still, in spite of his attraction to her—and he was attracted to her, no denying that—he couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed that a woman who seemed so perfect in every other way could let herself be used by a creep like Fleming.

  And what makes you any better? his conscience demanded. Wasn’t he using her, too?

  It was a question he didn’t want to dwell on.

  “Could be important,” he said. “I don’t think they’re going to give up until you answer.”

  “Oh, all right.” She walked across the room and snatched up the phone. “Hello? Hello?” Just as quickly, she hung it back up and glanced at him. “Must have been a wrong number.” But Jack thought he detected a flicker of fear in her eyes.

  He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “What’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That phone call shook you up,” he said. “You want to tell me why?”

  “It’s just…” She hesitated. “I’ve been getting some hang ups lately. It’s a little unnerving after what happened the other night.”

  He moved closer. “What are you talking about?”

  She lifted her shoulders dismissively, but a trace of fear still glimmered in her eyes. “I received…a threatening phone call.”

  Jack tensed. “Threatening how?”

  “Nothing really overt. It was probably nothing—”

  “When was this?”

  “Right after I saw you at Metro the other night.” She seemed reluctant to talk about it. Or maybe she just didn’t want him to see how scared she really was.

  She sighed. “Look, it was probably nothing…just someone’s idea of a prank. I wouldn’t even have given it much thought except…well…” She glanced away. “Something else happened. Besides the incident at the restaurant, I mean.”

  Jack frowned. “Maybe you’d better start at the beginning and tell me everything.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I think I should. Like I said, it was probably nothing, but with everything that happened today…” She wrapped her arms around her middle. “After I left Metro that night, I came back to the hotel, and as I was heading up here to my room, the power went off. I got stuck in the elevator for a few minutes, and I heard this noise…like maybe someone was on top of the elevator and they were…I don’t know…going to come down through that little door in the ceiling and…whatever…” She trailed away on a shudder. “Anyway, the electricity was only off for a few minutes, and afterward I came straight up to my suite. That’s when I got the phone call.”

  “What did the caller say?”

  “‘Did I scare you?’ I had the impression he was referring to the elevator incident.”

  Jack’s frowned deepened. “Did you recognize the voice?”

  She shook her head.

  “But you know that it was a man?”

  “No, not really. Whoever it was used one of those electronic gadgets to disguise his voice. Or her voice. When I asked who it was, the caller said ‘Open the door and find out.’ And then someone knocked on my door.”

  “What did you do?”

  She lifted her chin. “Well, I didn’t open the door if that’s what you’re thinking. I’ve got more sense than that. But I did go over and look out the peephole. I didn’t see anyone at first, but then someone knocked again a minute or two later. When I looked out that time, I saw Lyle Lester.”

  Jack’s gaze sharpened. “Lester? What’d he want?”

  “He said that the night clerk had seen me get on the elevator right before the electricity went off, and he wanted to make sure I was okay. And I guess that makes sense except…I don’t understand how the night clerk could have seen me. She wasn’t at the front desk when I came in. No one was.”

  “So what do you think happened?”

  “I don’t know. The thought has crossed my mind that maybe Lyle is the one who saw me. Maybe he turned the power off to scare me, then followed me up here and made that call on a cell phone from the hallway. I know it sounds crazy.” She bit her lip. “But there’s just something about him that gives me the creeps. I noticed it when I first saw him in the alley the other night.”

  “What night was that?”

  “The night that poor woman was murdered in Montrose.”

  Lyle Lester had been in the alley? On the night of the murder? They were entering dangerous territory here. Jack had also been in the alley that night. And he’d come face-to-face with Celeste.

  The conversation had suddenly gotten very dicey because Jack needed to find out about Lyle Lester without having Celeste recall certain other details about that night.

  “Are you sure it was the same night?”

  She nodded. “Oh, yes. I remember it distinctly because I couldn’t get what happened to that poor woman off my mind. And I kept hearing all those sirens. That’s why I went out to the balcony. I was already on edge, and then I saw a strange man standing in the alley staring up at me. I thought at first he might be the murderer. I even imagined…don’t laugh…I even thought for a minute he could be Casanova.”

  Jack wasn’t laughing. “Why did you think that?”

  “I’d just heard a criminal psychologist on television talk about those murders last summer. And she mentioned a police detective she’d worked with who still believes Casanova is out there somewhere.”

  Jack’s heart skipped a beat. “What police detective?”

  She shrugged. “Someone who worked on the case. Anyway, when I saw a man in the alley, I let my imagination run away with me. But then Lyle told me later that I’d seen him.”

  Jack relaxed a little. “What was he doing out there?”

  “He said some of the kitchen staff had seen a homeless person going through the Dumpsters, and he’d gone outside to check it out for himself. And I suppose that’s entirely possible because earlier I’d seen someone out there, too. The creep even kicked poor Mr. Bogart.”

  “Kicked him?” Jack blurted in outrage. “I did no such thing!”

  Chapter Ten

  Cassie stared at him in confusion. “What?”

  “What?” Jack repeated.

  “I said some creep kicked Mr. Bogart and you said ‘I did no such thing.’ What did you mean by that?” she demanded.

  “You must have misunderstood me. What I said was, ‘Who would do such a thing?’Who would kick a poor, defenseless little dog like Mr. Bogart?”

  Cassie said doubtfully, “But that’s not what you said—”

  “I can tell you one thing,” Jack cut in. “If I ever get my hands on that sorry SOB, he’ll think twice before he kicks another animal.”

  The conviction in his voice stunned Cassie. “Wow,” she said in awe. “You really feel passionate about that, don’t you?” He certainly seemed to have a special affinity for animals. Cassie thought again about the way Mr. Bogart had reacted to him, and she decided that had to say something about the man’s character.

  “I just don’t like seeing anyone or anything mistreated.” His blue gaze met hers. “I guess it brings out my protective instincts.”

  This side of Jack Fury was definitely bringing out something in Cassie. When he looked at her that way, she wanted to fling caution—and her clothes—to the wind.

  She imagined the two of them naked and entwined on her bed, Jack all protective and her all submissive.

  “Go on.”


  Cassie tried to clear her brain. “I figured the guy I saw was just some weirdo or pervert or something, but Lyle said he was probably Old Joe.”

  “Who’s Old Joe?”

  “A homeless guy who goes through the Dumpsters now and then. Supposedly, he’s harmless, but after what he did to Mr. Bogart and then to Mrs. Ambrose-Pritchard, I’m not so sure.”

  Jack shook his head. “Now I’m really confused. How does Mrs. Ambrose-Pritchard figure into this?”

  “She was attacked in the alley later that same night.”

  Jack’s brows shot up. “Attacked? By this Old Joe person?”

  “We don’t know for sure. She didn’t get a good look at him, but whoever it was shoved her down and hurt her ankle so badly that Lyle had to carry her back to her suite.”

  “Lester was the one who found her?”

  “No, I did when I took Mr. Bogart out for another walk. Lyle was just sort of there lurking in the shadows. He nearly scared us half to death.”

  “What reason did he give for being in the alley that time?”

  “Still looking for Old Joe, I guess.” She paused, her brow furrowed in thought. “Another interesting thing about that whole night was Mrs. Ambrose-Pritchard’s reaction to Lyle. She seems to detest him.”

  “Any idea why?”

  “No, and I didn’t ask. After she told me about Margo Fleming’s connection to the Gambinis, I just wanted to come back here and—”

  “Wait a minute. Mrs. Ambrose-Pritchard is the one who told you about the Gambinis?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  Jack ran a hand through his blond hair. “I don’t know. There’s just something about all this that sounds a little fishy to me.”

  “Fishy, how?”

  “You say Mrs. Ambrose-Pritchard hurt her ankle so badly she couldn’t walk back to her room. An injury like that can take days or even weeks to heal. But I didn’t notice a limp earlier when she got on the elevator.”

  Come to think of it, Cassie hadn’t, either. “But…why would she pretend to be hurt if she wasn’t?”

  “A lawsuit, maybe?” Jack shrugged. “Who knows? I’d say one thing is certain, though. Someone is trying to do a real number on you. Maybe all they want is to frighten you, but it’s clear to me that you’re the target of someone’s animosity.”

  “The jewel thief?” Cassie suggested. “Maybe he’s behind all this—”

  “Forget about the jewel thief,” Jack said flatly.

  “Why?”

  “The phone call, the boat, the trashed beach house. That’s not the work of a professional. That’s personal.”

  Cassie shivered at his tone, at the dark glimmer in his eyes, and then, as if on cue, the phone rang again, startling her. Her gaze darted to the phone, then back to Jack. “Should I get that?”

  He nodded, then quickly followed her to the phone. When he’d positioned himself beside her, he motioned for her to pick it up. As Cassie lifted the receiver, he put his ear next to hers so that he could listen in. His proximity caused Cassie’s pulse to leap.

  “Hello?” she breathed.

  “Miss Fortune? This is Sergeant Vargas. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’ve been trying to track down Jack. He’s not answering his cell phone. Do you happen to know where I can reach him?”

  “He’s right here, Sergeant,” she said in relief. She handed the receiver to Jack. As he lifted it to his ear, she backed away. The moment their physical contact ended, she could breathe again. Funny how that worked.

  “What have you got?” Jack listened for a moment, then scribbled something on a notepad. “No, never heard of it. Well, that’s interesting…”

  He talked for several more minutes, and by the time he finally hung up, Cassie was on pins and needles. “What did he say?”

  “The Jaguar is registered to a company here in Houston called the Sheridan Group. It’s a research and development outfit founded by the family of Ethan Gold’s late wife, Alaina.”

  Gold’s late wife? Cassie hadn’t even known he’d been married. That was another tidbit her cousin had neglected to tell her. But to be fair, perhaps Celeste hadn’t known that Cassie would get caught up in all this intrigue.

  Then again, maybe she had…

  “At the time of his wife’s death, Gold inherited his wife’s stock and a seat on the board of directors, along with substantial properties here in Houston, the beach house in Galveston, a cabin in Colorado, and a condo in Hawaii.” Jack gave Cassie a look she couldn’t quite define before walking over to the window to glance out. “The really interesting part of all this is that Alaina Gold died seven years ago. She was shot during a home invasion. No one was ever arrested for her murder.”

  “My God,” Cassie whispered.

  Jack turned back to face her, his expression grim. “Vargas tracked down the detective who headed up the investigation. He’s retired now, but he remembered the case very well. He said that Gold was at the top of their suspect list, but they didn’t have enough evidence to make an arrest.”

  Cassie’s heart beat so hard she felt breathless. She knew Jack was leading up to something, but she didn’t know what.

  He studied her for a moment. “You were still in Houston seven years ago, weren’t you? You and Gold were close back then. You even lived together for a while. Was that before or after his wife died?”

  Cassie gasped. He couldn’t think—“You’re not suggesting that my…that I had something to do with his wife’s death, are you?”

  Jack shrugged. “I’m not suggesting anything. But at the very least, Gold’s past casts a suspicious light on his character. And it gives us reason to believe he may have a violent history.”

  “You think Ethan is the one responsible for blowing up his own boat?” Cassie asked incredulously. “For ransacking his own beach house? Why would he do that?”

  Jack shrugged again. “Maybe he thinks you know something about his wife’s death. Maybe he’s afraid you’ll somehow implicate him.”

  “After seven years?”

  “I’m only guessing, of course. When you talked to him last, did he give you any indication that he might be getting paranoid?”

  “Not…that I recall.” It was Cassie who turned away this time to wrestle with her own conscience. Now was the time to come clean with Jack. To tell him she couldn’t answer his questions because she wasn’t Celeste. Now was the time to make sure that she covered her own butt in all this.

  So…why didn’t she? Why didn’t she tell Jack the truth and let him walk out that door? “If he really wanted to kill me, why would he use his own boat?” she wondered aloud. “He’d have to know that would make him a prime suspect. Again. Why would he take such a chance?”

  “That’s a good question.” Jack started across the room toward the door. “Let’s go see if he has a good answer.”

  “Right now?” Cassie asked in alarm.

  “No time like the present.” Pausing at the door, Jack glanced back. “Are you coming?”

  He didn’t have to ask her twice.

  IN SPITE OF THE yuppie invasion of the eighties, West University remained a charming and sophisticated enclave with its tree-lined streets and Cape Cod Revival-style architecture. The neighborhood’s proximity to the Museum District, the Medical Center and Rice University made it one of the most desirable locations in the city, which was why many of the original homes had been torn down in the past twenty years to make room for modern-day replicas. But the new blended so seamlessly with the old that the impact on the area was barely perceptible.

  As they drove along the quaint streets, Cassie tried to appreciate the neighborhood’s beauty, but her mind kept racing. Who was out to get Celeste? Or at the very least, who wanted to scare the living daylights out of her? And more important, what was her cousin’s part in all this? Had she deliberately set Cassie up?

  She didn’t want to believe her cousin capable of such a betrayal, but they hadn’t been close in years. She had no idea how much Celeste might h
ave changed, and self-preservation could be a powerful motivation.

  Cassie now found herself caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place. If she told Jack the truth, their relationship would be over before it had even started, and worse, she might even face jail time.

  She had no idea if she’d done anything illegal. She’d used Celeste’s name and her credit card, not to mention taking Ethan Gold’s boat out under false pretenses. For all Cassie knew, she could be held liable for the damages. She could even be charged with fraud and God only knew what other crimes. If the police arrested her she might have to remain behind bars for days or even weeks before her cousin finally came forward to clear her.

  What if she didn’t come forward? Cassie thought suddenly. If Celeste knew her life was in danger, she might let Cassie linger in jail indefinitely.

  On the other hand, if Cassie didn’t come clean soon, she could end up dead.

  Between the two options, those orange jumpsuits were looking better and better.

  Still, there just might be another way out if she could buy herself some time. Celeste couldn’t stay in hiding forever. She’d have to surface sooner or later.

  “This is it.” Jack slowed the car.

  Cassie stared at the darkened house as they drove past. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s home.”

  “Or maybe that’s what he wants people to think.” Jack drove to the end of the block and pulled to the curb. Turning off the ignition, he reached for the door handle.

  “What are you doing?” Cassie asked in alarm.

  “I figured I’d have a look around.”

  Her gaze widened. “You’re not going to break into his house, are you?”

  “No, of course not. But there’re other ways of finding information.”

  “Like going through his trash?”

  Jack’s head whipped around. “What do you mean?”

  Cassie shrugged. “I saw it in a movie once. A cop found evidence to put away a killer by going through his trash. Yikes. I’d hate to think of someone doing that to me, but then, I’m not a killer. And I suppose in police work the end justifies the means, doesn’t it?”

  Jack stared at her for a moment longer, then glanced away. “Sometimes.” He got out of the car. “Lock the doors behind me. I won’t be long.”