Brenda Novak - The Perfect Murder

That meant she needed to continue working with him, enlist his help, regardless of how she felt about the way he’d handled the situation in Ione. “So you’ll call me? You’ll let me know if you arrange a meeting with Boss?” she asked.

Sebastian leaned forward until she could see his face. “I’ll think about it.”

She didn’t like his attitude. “I shared my information with you.”

“Your information turned out to be a bust.”

“Not a complete bust,” she argued. “You got directions to that Indian casino.”

“Which might mean nothing more than an enjoyable night of craps.”

She adjusted her purse. The gun inside made it unusually heavy. “What about my kidnap victims? Surely you’re not so consumed with revenge that you don’t care what happens to them.”

He scowled. “That isn’t it at all.”

“Then what is?”

“I don’t see how bringing you along will help save them.”

His arrogance irritated her. “Oh, really? Who backed you up in Ione, even though you had no business doing what you did?”

The barest hint of a smile curved his lips. “I wish I could’ve caught that on tape.”

Jane stiffened. “What?”

“You, trying not to get your shoes muddy while hurrying toward me with that gun.”

She hadn’t realized he’d paid enough attention to notice. “Little good it did me,” she grumbled. “My shoes are ruined.”

He sobered. “Could’ve been worse.”

“I think that was my argument.” Besides, it was easy for him to say. He was obviously used to having money. No one she knew rented a Lexus. At least, no one she knew these days. “Point is, I could’ve stayed warm and dry in the car,” she said. “So will you cooperate with me or not?”

Wearing a scowl, he stared off into the distance.

“Sebastian?”

His gaze moved her way, and he studied her as if seeing her for the first time. She might’ve been flattered, except there was a calculating air to the appraisal that told her he wasn’t necessarily admiring her figure. “Maybe there’d be some benefit to having you involved.”

“Meaning…”

“Maybe you could provide a woman’s perspective.”

“Considering I am a woman, that shouldn’t be too difficult,” she said dryly.

Another flash of his pearly whites told her he understood why she was a little piqued. “Good. Mary works until four. Then she does homework with her kids and takes them to various sports practices. Most nights she doesn’t get on the computer until eight. I need to stick with the same pattern as much as possible, so I’ll sign on with her screen name about that time. If you want to be part of this, come to my motel room at seven-thirty.”

Kate would be home then, but Jane knew she could take her daughter to her in-laws’ for the night. Kate would be excited about staying with Grandma and Grandpa. When Oliver was in jail, she stayed there often, but now Jane rarely allowed it on a school night. “Where’s your motel?”

“The Raleigh Pete, off Cal Expo. Room 213.”

That wasn’t far from her Howe Avenue condo. “I’ll be there.” She started to shut the door, but he spoke again.

“If I gave you fifty dollars, is there any chance you’d bring dinner?”

Jane wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. “What?”

“I hardly ever get a home-cooked meal,” he admitted, as if that was reason enough to make her agree.

Austin, an intern from Del Campo High School who was working at TLS in order to get credit for a sociology class, had just parked in the lot. Jane said hello and waited for him to go inside before responding. Then she said, “You want me to make you dinner?”

“I’ll pay for it, like I said. Is some pot roast or meat loaf too much to ask?”

“How do you know I can cook?”

“You’ve got a kitchen, don’t you?” He pulled out his wallet and handed her a fifty-dollar bill. “I’ve been on the road since forever. Anything’s got to be better than what I’ve been eating.”

As Jane accepted the money, she couldn’t help feeling some measure of sympathy. Maybe Sebastian wasn’t the humblest person she’d ever met. But he’d been traveling a long time and no one knew the impact of violence like she did. “I’ve got to cook for Kate, anyway,” she said.

“Kate?”

“My daughter.”

“I didn’t realize you had a child. How old is she?”

“Twelve.”

“What will you do with her?”

“She’ll go to her grandparents’ for the night.”

His gaze fell to the tattoo on her hand. “What happened to you, Jane?”

Survivor. That word had reminded her of who she was during the difficult months when she’d fought to recover from being attacked by her own husband. Skye had been with her when she’d visited Express Yourself Ink. They’d both gotten the same tattoo. Skye’s was on her shoulder blade, which she usually kept covered, but Jane had needed hers in plain sight.

“Maybe we’ll talk about it later,” she said and closed the door.

The room smelled like clean male. So many of Jane’s memories of Oliver were negative that she’d forgotten this more appealing aspect of the opposite sex. Afraid she’d never experience that scent again, at least not in such an intimate setting, she paused to appreciate it before the aroma of the food she carried in her picnic basket could overpower it.

“Come on in.” Sebastian was standing at the door, wearing faded jeans and a burnt orange long-sleeved thermal shirt.

A second later, that male scent was gone, replaced by the sausage in her homemade lasagna and the garlic butter on the bread.

“That smells good,” he said, taking the basket from her as she passed him.

She smiled-she’d just been thinking the same thing but about a completely different scent.

Moving into the room, she purposely turned her attention to the furnishings, which were beige and green and fairly standard, so she wouldn’t be tempted to stare. If she’d thought Sebastian was handsome before, he looked even better without his coat. That shirt fit his upper body like a second skin, revealing the contour of every muscle-and there were plenty of muscles to admire.

Even at his best, Oliver had never been built like that. Jane had been attracted by his sweetness, his harmlessness, his earnestness, his intelligence. And the fact that she’d felt safe with him…

“Is something funny?” Sebastian asked.

Sobering, she shook her head. “No, I was just…remembering.”

He’d been about to dive into the hamper, but at this he paused. “Remembering what?”

“What it was like,” she said.

“To…”

“Be innocent.”

He gave her an odd look. “In what way?”

She shrugged. “In every way, I guess.” She could never go back, never be the person she’d been before. That made her sad. But trusting the one man who was supposed to love her above all else had nearly gotten her killed. Wasn’t it better to be wise than innocent?

Her eyes swept over the bed. Experience, at least the kind of experience she’d endured, changed everything, even the simplest of life’s pleasures…

The stillness in the room told her Sebastian wasn’t digging into the food as she’d expected. She turned to find him watching her, his expression tinged with surprise and curiosity.

“Is there a Mr. Burke?” he asked.

The tone of his voice told her he knew she’d been thinking about sex, knew she was hungry in a way that had nothing to do with food. But, regardless of the promise inherent in such a perfect body, there was nothing he could do to satisfy her. She wouldn’t let him, or anyone else. She couldn’t. She was incapable of lowering her guard to the degree making love would require, especially with a stranger.