Jo Leigh - Coming Soon / Hidden Gems

“Are you swamped?” she asked.

“No.”

“Really? You have some time?” She looked past him, to the big barricades holding back the pedestrians, the off-duty beat cops making an extra dime. Past them were trailers and equipment and a bunch of crew people scurrying to and fro as if they were doing something important.

“I’m all yours,” he said.

She flushed enough for him to catch it on her cheeks. “Great. Where can we go that’s private?”

He thought about taking her down to the office he’d been given, but he wanted her away from Hush. If he could have, he’d take her far away, say, the Cloisters or at least Central Park. Then it hit him. “Come with me.”

She walked along beside him, and the urge to take her hand was strong. Really strong. But he was on the clock and so was she. Hadn’t he just lectured himself about this very thing?

“Where are we going?”

“I think I have somewhere nice and quiet and private,” he said. “I have to check, though.”

They walked past the barricade into the heart of the location. It wasn’t difficult to find the AD. She was standing in the middle of the street, papers in one hand, a walkie-talkie in the other.

He touched Mia’s arm. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

She nodded as she stared at all the equipment and chairs and the thrum of activity.

The business w to work out, at least for the next hour. He didn’t want anyoneith the AD took only a few minutes. Then he was back at Mia’s side. “Come on,” he said, pleased that things were going from the film company or Hush knowing he was using Mia as his go-between.

He led her to the garage, to the row of trailers and motor homes. When he got to the fourth huge motor home, the only one without a name plate, he opened the door and waited for Mia to climb the four steps.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“It’s what movie stars use instead of port-a-potties.”

She whistled as she got a load of the five-star accommodations. It wasn’t exactly like Danny Austen’s, but it was close.

“This is like a suite at the hotel,” she said, running her hand over the top of the white leather armchair. “Are you sure it’s okay that we’re here?”

“No one’s using this one, at least for today. I checked.”

She looked at him with a hint of wicked in her big dark eyes. “So no one’s gonna come knocking?”

He shook his head.

Mia approached him slowly, her fingertips trailing over the table. “I’ve got a whole hour until I have to get back to work.”

She was tiny next to him. His hands could fit around her waist. The top of her head didn’t even come up to his chin and she smelled like a soft, sweet flower. But the look in her eyes was bold as brass.

Wanting her swamped him, made him lift his hand to pull her close. To kiss her would ease the ache that had been there since they’d met. It would let him sleep again. But in his dreams, he hadn’t stopped at a kiss.

Bax forced himself to take a step back. To make it really clear that this was business and nothing more. It didn’t matter that she wanted it. That he wanted it.

Man, his job sucked.

6

OKAY, SO SHE’D MISJUDGED the situation. It happened. No big deal, right?

Turning away from Bax, who’d done everything but send up a flare to let her know that he wasn’t interested in anything beyond a work relationship, she gathered her pride and her wits about her as she sat in the chair next to the table. No chance of him getting close from this position. “Sheila Geiger came to the hotel this morning. She had some interesting things to say.”

Bax nodded as his gaze moved from her to the couch back to her then to the other single chair across from the table. That’s where he chose to sit. “You talked to her yourself?”

“Yes. In the bar. She was early and I took her to get some tea.”

“She didn’t seem like the tea type to me.”

“Yes, well, sometimes our initial impressions aren’t all that accurate, are they.”

“Point taken.”

She hadn’t meant to get snarky with him. Using her most practiced smile, she leaned in, making sure her body language was friendly, open. Not in the least sexual. “Anyway, she’s pretty sure that Danny Austen killed her husband.”

Bax blinked at her as if something didn’t compute. He’d already said he thought Sheila wasn’t unhappy that her husband was dead, and Sheila had admitted she’d told him about her suspicions, so why was this revelation troubling him? Then it occurred to her. She was grinning at him as if she’d just told him he’d won a stuffed bunny. She ditched the big smile and eased back about ten degrees. “She also said that she thinks it’s because Gerry knew that Danny bats for both teams.”

“Shit,” Bax said.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just that I think it’s true.”

“That Danny killed Geiger?”

“No. That Danny is bisexual.”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly take Sheila Geiger’s word as gospel.”

He shook his head. “Actually, I’m pretty sure that Austen hit on me this morning.”

“What?”

“I was thinking maybe I got it wrong, but now that two sources have confirmed it—”

“He hit on you? How?”

“It’s not important. What else did—”

“Oh, no. Come on. I’m not going to tell anyone. What did he say?”

Bax looked flustered. He scratched his head, making little tufts of dark hair stand up, and he didn’t meet her eyes. “I had a headache. He offered to help me with it.”

“Holy crap.”

“I said no.”

She laughed. “I wasn’t suggesting that you didn’t. I’ve just always thought, you know, Danny Austen. He’s legendary.”

“But is he a killer?”

“I haven’t finished about Sheila.”

He leaned forward, looking pleased that they were talking once more about murder.

“She said she had pictures.”

“From that night?”

“Don’t know. I asked, but then someone came in. She never answered me.”

“Did she give you any specifics about the pictures?”

“She implied they were of Danny and someone else. A man. She said they would prove that he was the killer.”

“Unless they show him with the murder weapon, or actually killing Geiger, I doubt that. But they sure could point to motive.”

“If she’s telling the truth.”

“You didn’t believe her?”

She hadn’t wanted to tell him this, not after being such a snot with that comment, but she had to. “She was drunk.”

“When?”

“This morning. When she got to the hotel. It’s crazy, too, because she was going to lunch with Piper and Trace.”

“Trace is the attorney, right?”

“Yes. Piper’s husband.”

“Sheila knew that. Knew she was meeting with counsel.”

“Maybe not. I don’t know. Even so, it seems like awfully poor judgment.”

He leaned back again. “The alcohol must be a considerable problem, then. She has a lot on the line. A lot to lose.”

“Or she’s really devastated by the loss of her husband.”

Bax shook his head even as he said, “I suppose so.”

“You don’t believe her?”

“I’d have to see the evidence for myself.”

“Can’t you get a search warrant? Get all the cameras from their house?”

“I don’t know. We’ll have to see if a judge will get on board. But there’s no guarantee, even if we swept the house, that the pictures would be there.”

Mia stood up, anxious now to leave this very private and inviting motor home. But she couldn’t go just yet. Not until she knew for sure.

She remembered a lesson her mother had taught her long ago—don’t ask a question if you’re not prepared to hear the answer. But she was prepared. Better to get things out on the table. Deal with what was, not what she wished could be. “Bax?”