Page 78 of Hold a Candle

“Stop that,” she hissed, the red creeping up her face as she glanced furtively around to see who might be watching. Her panties were getting damp and she couldn’t help the desire that was rising already from her stinging cheek.

His eyebrows went due north and that evil grinchy grin lifted his lips. “Taunt me in public at yer own peril, firebrand.”

“We need to talk—about a lot of things.” Her blood pressure slowly returned to normal as he slid his arm around her waist and steered her towards his car.

“We can talk over dinner. I’ve made reservations at The Castle Kitchen.”

“That is a pricey place for having to eat off trenchers with yer fingers,” Pauley purred, as he opened her car door. “I’ll need to go home and change. I did bring a dress with me to yer place that I think will work.”

Jamie nodded, his eyes gleaming. “Aye, me too.”

Neither one noticed the black sedan with the tinted windows that slid past them on the other side of the parking lot, they were too engrossed with each other.

***

BRODIE STARED UP ATthe ceiling of the hospital room, trying to bring his eyes into focus. He’d been in enough of them to recognize the plain white tiles, not to mention the nagging ache in his shoulder. They were keeping him drugged up since his surgery Saturday night, and giving him very little information. There was something nagging at the edge of his consciousness, but he couldn’t place just what it was.

Mica had been in his room early Sunday morning when he’d drifted awake saying something about Florence trying to kill him. Had Florence shot him in the warehouse? He couldn’t see why she would, she was helping him with information. Sort of like a CI in uniform as unorthodox as that might sound. And it enabled him to keep an eye on her at the same time. Besides, the dark hooded figure he’d seen didn’t look like her shape.

Suddenly, Quinn’s face loomed above his, the frown on his craggy features not boding well for receiving good news.

“Are ye awake enough to answer some questions?” Quinn snapped.

“If they stop shooting me up with knockout meds,” Brodie rasped in return, his voice barely a whisper. As his eyes focused for a longer distance, he looked around the room. “Where is Florence?”

Quinns eyes narrowed. “Why would ye be looking for Florence?”

Brodie squinted, his tongue clinging to the roof of his mouth. “Can I have some water? “I’m dryer than a popcorn fart.”

Quinn picked up a plastic cup on the bedside that had been filled with ice chips. “Here, ye can have one of these ice chips. Just don’t swallow the bloody thing, let it melt on yer tongue,” he instructed impatiently.

He dropped one of the ice chips into Brodie’s open mouth and Brodie clamped down on it gratefully, swishing it around with his tongue. Then he glanced back up at the tall man standing beside his bed. He’d never much liked Quinn, he always seemed to go for the side of the underdog. He wasn’t the letter of the law boss that Brodie preferred, he ruled more with his emotions. That made him soft as far as he was concerned. One of those constables who was more concerned with criminals’ rights than meting out the justice they really deserved. He grimaced.

“Florence was supposed to be meeting me at the warehouse,” he finally replied to Quinn’s original question. “She said she had some information for me.”

Quinn stiffened and his eyes blazed. “Why would Florence be included in yer drug bust? Is that what got her killed?” he accused.

Shock and bewilderment raced through Brodie. “Killed? Florence is dead?” His eyes practically bugged out on stalks. “How? Do ye know who killed her?”

“I was hoping ye might have some answers.”

“Just tell me what happened,” Brodie growled. “Tell me everything ye know.”

When he finished, Brodie spat out, “That was no heart attack. Florence was silenced because I was getting too close.”

Quinn leaned in eagerly. “Too close to who? What do ye know, Brodie?”

Brodie studied him as he thought. If Kelpie had wanted him dead, he’d be dead by now, he was sure of it. Brodie couldn’t prove it, but he’d been highly suspicious of Florence all along. She was smart, capable, and willing to do what needed to be done, but she was also an ace at disguising her emotions. She would have made a topnotch card shark. It also made her hard to read. Had he misread her?

Juice had been a player he didn’t know about, but he should have, he realized. Stupid booze-guzzling Juice hadn’t been a suspect, but it seemed it had all been an act. Florence had been forced to be Juice’s partner when Quinn had hired him, and she hated having a partner. That should have been a clue to him, but he’d missed it. He’d been too engrossed in having Florence keep an eye on Eva and report back to him.

Coupled with his undercover work and everything Quinn had just told him, Brodie was reasonably sure that Florence and Eva were actually partners. Both could be “Kelpie”, and Eva had decided to silence Florence after what happened in Kelly Woods. It all made perfect sense.

One thing was for sure though, shooting his mouth off to Quinn would be a huge mistake. He had some things to check out before he said anything to anyone if he valued his life. Still, he needed to give Quinn something.

“Find the truck,” he said finally. Then he motioned to Quinn as if he wanted to write something down. No way was he giving him any verbal information while he lay helpless in this hospital bed. Bugs could be planted in all sorts of places.

“That’s it?” Quinn asked in disbelief, playing along with Brodie and handing him a pen and a small piece of paper from a notebook pad. “The truck has completely disappeared.”

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