“Could give you a chance to be alone with her,” Trisha taunted. “At the ranch. Just like Kat.”
Zach’s fingers tightened around his Coors and Jason, his mouth set and grim, held up a hand. “Time for a truce, you two. Get ahold of yourself Zach. You know who the enemy is here.”
Yeah, Zach knew. But he didn’t like it. Jason was still suggesting that he convince Adria to leave Portland and go to the ranch with him.
The trouble was, Zach was beginning to agree.
17
From the outside, the Orion Hotel looked the same as it had years ago when Zach, determined to lose his virginity, had crossed the threshold. Inside, things had changed. The main lobby had been remodeled. Glass tables and floral couches were positioned away from the desk and spiky-leaved palms seemed to grow out of the terra-cotta floor.
Ignoring a sense of déjà vu that made his skin crawl, Zach walked straight to the desk where two clerks—a man and a woman in their early twenties—were manning the night shift. “Would you ring Ms. Nash’s room?” Zach asked. “Tell her she has a guest in the lobby.” The two exchanged glances and the woman checked her watch.
“Is she expecting you?”
“No.”
“It’s late—”
“She won’t mind.”
Polished fingernails flew over the keyboard of her computer. “Let me see if she’s asked not to be disturbed…” She studied the monitor, gave a little shrug, and lifted the phone receiver to her ear. “What’s your name?”
“Zachary Danvers.”
“She knows you?”
“Yeah.”
“It’ll be just a minute.”
“I’ll wait in the bar.”
As the telephone jangled for the third time, Adria reached blindly for it and glanced at the clock. Twelve-thirty. She’d been asleep for less than an hour, but the clouds of slumber had been heavy and hard to part. Fumbling for the receiver with one hand, she pushed her bangs out of her eyes with the other. “Hello?”
“Ms. Nash, this is Laurie at the front desk. I’m sorry to disturb you, but you have a visitor. Mr. Danvers is here to see you.”
“Who?”
“Zachary Danvers.”
“Zach?” The fog cleared from her mind as the apologetic clerk conveyed Zach’s message. Her heart skipped a tiny little beat before she realized that he’d been called in by the troops. It was time to circle the Danvers family wagons as Adria had threatened to go to the press. She wondered how he’d try to convince her to take a hike.
She threw on a pair of jeans and a bulky sweater. Unable to control the wild black curls, she clipped a barrette over her hair at the base of her neck and grabbed her purse.
“Ready for round three,” she told herself as she thought of Polidori and Nelson Danvers and the damned dead rat wearing her locket! Suddenly she’d become popular. Too popular. And too many people knew where she lived. It was time to move to cheaper, more private quarters.
She saw Zach the minute she entered the bar. Despite the soft lights and the dark interior, she noticed him at a table in the corner.
His jean-clad legs were stretched out in front of him and he rested on the small of his back. His blue work shirt was pushed high on his forearms and he was watching the door with hawklike eyes that followed her as she made her way to the table.
She’d forgotten how formidable he was: the cruel set of his mouth, the thick black brows, his face—all sharp angles and planes—and eyes that seemed to see through any facade.
Nursing a beer, he didn’t say a word as she approached, didn’t offer the hint of a smile or indicate in any way that he was glad to see her. In fact, he almost scowled as if irritated by the sight of her.
“Do you know what time it is?” she asked, dropping her purse onto the table.
He shrugged. “After midnight.”
“If you’re here to offer me a bribe, forget it.”
“Sit down, Adria,” he suggested. “I heard you’ve been getting some nasty mail.”
“Bad news travels fast.” She settled into a chair.
The waiter came and she started to decline, then decided she could use a drink. Zach’s presence always unnerved her. It was his attitude, she supposed. All male ego and raw sexuality, as if he knew he was attractive to females, the kind of cynical man most women considered a challenge and itched to tame, the kind of man she should stay away from—a lonesome cowboy who was up to no good. “I’ll have a glass of chardonnay, please.”
“Tell me about the letters.”
“Not exactly love notes,” she said and pulled a plastic bag from her purse. She slid it across the table and he read the short messages through the plastic.
“Someone means business.” His mouth was grim, his eyebrows pulled together.
“Someone named Danvers, unless I miss my guess.”
“Nelson said you got a package, too.”
“That I did.” Her wine came and she took a long sip.
“From the same guy?”
“I imagine.”
“What was it?”
Oh, Lord. “A personal gift,” she said, watching his reaction. “A dead rat with—”
“What! Someone sent you a dead rat?” His face drained of color.
“—with a necklace around its throat and body, the very locket and chain that was stolen from my room when I was staying at the Hotel Danvers and this note.” She pointed to one of the plastic encased letters.
“Jesus Christ, Adria, are you kidding?”
“About this? Nope.” She shook her head.
“And you didn’t call the police?”
“Not yet.”
“Where is the damned thing?”
“On ice.”
“What?”
“In the mini fridge in my room.” He looked as if he didn’t believer her. “You want to see it?”
“Damned straight.” His countenance had changed from shock to anger and he slapped some bills onto the table and followed her out of the bar, past the front desk and to the elevators.
“This is friggin’ nuts,” he growled as she unlocked the door to her room, stepped inside, and walked to the minibar.
“You’re telling me.” She opened the refrigerator door and Zach, bending on one knee, looked inside. “Son of a bitch,” he whispered. “Son of a goddamned bitch.” He didn’t touch the bag, but said, “You have to tell the police about this, Adria.” He motioned toward the package. “This isn’t just a simple threat scratched on a note and slipped under the door.”
“I was just waiting.”
“For what? The sicko to come after you? No. There’ll be no waiting.” He crossed to the bed and swept the phone from its cradle. “Either you call or I will. But this has gone far enough!”
“Just hold on a sec. I said I’d call the police and I will, but…but let’s go back downstairs and finish our drinks. Think about this calmly.” She suddenly needed to get out of the room.
“There’s nothing to be calm about. This is serious, Adria.” Using a handkerchief, he pulled the plastic bag with its grisly contents from the refrigerator. “Is this what it came in?” he asked, motioning to the torn manila envelope on the desk.
“Yes.”
“Then let’s put it back.” He started to stuff the rodent carefully back into the packet.
“Wait a minute. What are you doing? We have to save it.”
“I’ve got a friend who works for the police department. A detective. He’ll know what to do with it.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“It’s better than anything you’ve come up with. You don’t want to go to the cops, fine. Let’s handle this discreetly.”
“I’ll have to fill out a report.”
“Yeah. Eventually. But come on, do you really want to spend another night with this guy?” He hitched his chin at the envelope where the rat was now tucked.
“No, I guess not,” she admitted, but she didn’t know if she could trust him.
As if he could read her mind, he said, “Believe me. I’ll talk to my friend ASAP. Come on. I’ll buy you a drink.”
“I don’t like being manipulated.”
“I’m just trying to help.” His gaze held hers for a second too long. “You’ve got to trust someone, Adria. And you’re the one who came looking for me a few days back. Not the other way around.”
That much was true. “Fine,” she said with a quick nod. “Have your friend in the department call me. I would like my necklace back.”