Jill Shalvis - Serving Up Trouble

If only he could figure out how to put it into words.

By break time, Angie decided Josephine was right. It was time to go for it, in all aspects of her life. One thing at a time, of course, and first up…her fears.

With her tips and check in her purse, she headed to the bank. Once there, she wasted a good five minutes on the sidewalk, staring at the building. She told herself she was sweating from the walk, from the sun. Not from fear.

I’m not afraid of anything anymore.

Anything but Sam not wanting her love, that is. But she’d done the best she could there, and looking back on it, how she’d fallen so unexpectedly for him, how she’d been open and honest with her feelings, she knew she couldn’t have done anything differently. Wouldn’t have done anything differently.

Life was to be lived.

With that, she lifted her chin and walked straight through the doors of the bank, straight toward the teller smiling at her, the teller who thank fully wasn’t the same woman who couldn’t open her drawer during the holdup.

Angie deposited her money without mishap and, with a relieved breath, walked back through the bank with a genuine smile on her face.

“Angie.”

The sun was coming in the doors in such a way that the light sort of haloed the person in front of her. But she didn’t need light to recognize Tony-tall, dark and handsome as ever in his expensive suit, chic sun glasses and smooth smile.

“Angie. You look-” he ran his gaze down her uniform and held there “-the same.”

“Do I?” She grinned, because suddenly it seemed very funny. “I’m not.”

“I’ve called you.”

And she hadn’t returned the calls. Petty, maybe, but it was her own little way of keeping the power. “I’ve been busy. I’ve gone back to school.”

He removed his sun glasses. “I didn’t know. That’s fantastic. You’ll be out of that dead-end waitressing job in no time.” His eyes became warmer. “Why don’t you call me when you’re finished? I’ll hook you up with a job in the district.”

“I’m not going to be an attorney, Tony.”

His eyes registered surprise. “You’re…not?”

She kept smiling and shook her head. “I’m going to be an art history teacher with a serious painting hobby.”

“A…teacher?” He cocked his head, considering, then nodded. “Well, that’s good, too. I approve.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“That’s nice. But I don’t need your approval.” Gently, because after all, at one time she had cared for this man, she set her fingers to his chin to close his mouth.

Then she waved and walked around him, out of the bank, and onward to the rest of her life.

Sam and Luke finally got a break when they located John’s roommate…John Manning. They found him serving burritos to high-school kids on lunch break.

“Welcome to Burrito Palace,” the short, chunky twenty-year-old said to Sam and Luke. “We have lots of specials going. What can I get for you today?”

Sam flashed him his badge. The punk paled and crossed himself.

“God isn’t going to help you today, John,” Luke said easily. “I’ll take three tacos though, and-” He caught Sam’s hard stare and sighed. “Never mind. Tell your boss you’re taking a break. A long one.”

They took him to the station, offered him a deal. They’d be lenient on him if he helped them. Turned out, the kid really was just a disgruntled friend, and not involved in the credit-theft ring. His father provided his college funds, plus he realized a life of crime wouldn’t help his hopeful law career.

But he did recognize the picture of their suspect, who was apparently also a very ex -friend, and the son of the ringleaders. Tommy some thing or another. John gave them an address, and Luke and Sam got into Luke’s car.

Following the directions John had given them for Tommy, Sam knew a deepening dread he couldn’t explain. And it wouldn’t go away.

“This feels very wrong,” Luke said, suddenly and ominously echoing his worries.

“Yeah.”

“I wish I knew why.”

“Me too.” Despite his best intentions to the contrary, Sam kept thinking of Angie. It was strange. He’d come to the conclusion he needed to try to tell her how he felt, so why couldn’t he get over the feeling he’d be too late?

She loved him. She hadn’t let her fears rule her. She’d just come right out and told him.

So why hadn’t he told her?

Because he’d let his past color it. He’d told himself, over and over, no woman could or would ever love him as he was, and he’d come to believe it.

But he’d been wrong, and was still trying to get used to that.

They came to the end of John’s directions. Both of them looked out the window at the typical Southern California suburbia in front of them. Ranch-style house, in a row of other similar ranch-style homes, all built in the 1970s. Nice yards, most with bikes in the driveway, or other various kid toys. SUVs and flowered yards abounded.

“Middle-town, U.S.A.,” Luke said, watching a man mow the lawn. “Only things missing are the two-point-four kids playing in the yard.”

“Yeah.” Sam reached for his radio. “But hell if I can figure out what’s bugging me.” He radioed dispatch to run the place and then they got out of the car.

No one was home.

The man mowing the lawn turned out to be the landlord, who, after looking over their badges let them in.

The kitchen was small, cozy and very clean. On the wall was a portrait of a smiling kid…their suspect.

“Tommy?” Luke asked.

“Apparently.” Sam moved on down the hallway, past a few bedrooms that looked orderly and tidy, to a closed door.

“What are you looking for, some thing obvious like…?” Luke broke off with a long whistle. “Like that, I suppose.”

The room was a gold mine, lined with shelves filled with bins of mail. All stolen mail, if myriad ad dresses and names on the obvious bills and statements meant anything.

Another dead giveaway was the state-of-the-art computer equipment along one wall, including special laminating tools of the trade for ID theft.

“Definitely hit the lottery,” Luke agreed. “Now let’s get out of here and get our search warrant and come back all legal-like, shall we?”

They were halfway back to the station when Luke looked at him casually and said, “You have lipstick on the corner of your mouth. Looks like a very pretty shade of berry.”

Sam licked his lip and tasted Angie. “You might have told me that two hours ago.”

Luke just grinned. “And ruin your illusion that I have no idea what’s going on between you two?”

“You don’t have any idea what’s going on.”

“No, you don’t. Me, now I have a pretty good idea.”

Before Sam could respond to that, his cell phone rang.

“Uh…Mr. O’Brien?” said a hesitant voice. “This is John Manning.” The sounds of Burrito Palace came over the line. “Like, I remembered Tommy’s last name. It’s Wilson. Tommy Wilson.”

At the same moment, dispatch radioed them with the information on the house they’d just been in.

The renters? Ellie and George Wilson.

Tommy’s parents. But that was the least of their problems. Sam’s head snapped up as it all clicked into place. “Ellie and George Wilson… God. They’re the couple that runs the book store next to the café where Angie works.”

Luke shook his head. “Does Angie know them?”

“She says they’re friends-” He swore again, more viciously now. “Drive, Luke. Drive.”

Luke had already hit the gas pedal. “Driving.”

“Faster.” He shoved his fingers through his hair. “I can’t believe it. Ellie and George are running the identity-theft ring.”