Dare to Love (Maxwell #3)

“Thank you, Oscar,” she said. “And stay out of those poker joints.”


After Oscar and Detective Bensen left, Rayburn walked over to the two-way mirror and knocked on it. Then he said to Dillon and me, “I already questioned Kross and Elizabeth. I suspect if I question you two I’ll get the same responses. And we don’t have anything to hold you on. Besides, we’re after bigger fish at that poker game anyway.” Rayburn looked at Terrance. “You, on the other hand, I do want to question.”

The blood drained from Terrance’s face. “You turned me in?” he asked Lizzie. “I thought you said that if I helped you, you wouldn’t press charges?”

“I said I would consider it, although I already went to the cops in Florida weeks ago. They have my statement.”

“According to Ms. Reardon, you know one of the dealers from that poker game,” Rayburn said. “I don’t have anything to hold you on either, but I do want to hear more about the dealer.”

“Oh,” Terrance muttered.

“But don’t think for a minute that I can’t call down to Florida and talk with one of my brethren. So if I were you, I’d do the right thing.” Detective Rayburn waved his hand toward the door. “Let’s go.”

Terrance shuffled past us.

Lizzie grabbed his arm. “My attorney here in Boston is Robert Davenport at Davenport Law Firm, and you have my number. I hope to hear from you soon.”

Detective Rayburn pinned a look on all of us. “Stay out of illegal poker joints. I don’t want to see any of you in here again.” Then he shook Kross’s hand. “You have my card. Give me a heads up on your next fight. And someone will be by in a moment to escort all of you out.”

When it was just the four of us, I let out a heavy sigh. We weren’t going to jail. My future as a lawyer wasn’t ruined. Most of all, the woman who had my heart in the palm of her hand was safe. It was time for flowers, feathers, and foreplay. Lots of foreplay.





28





Lizzie





I walked into a posh hotel in the Back Bay of Boston to meet Kelton. Large vases of fragrant lilies dotted the lobby tables as I crossed the shiny white floors on my way to the elevators. I inhaled the sweet aroma—a definite upgrade from the cigar smoke at the club the night before.

I stabbed the up arrow for the elevator, thinking of Terrance. I had hoped he’d call. During our conversation in the van, I’d thought I’d rattled a nerve or two, talking about his son and my dad. But maybe I’d read him wrong. Or maybe Detective Rayburn threw him in jail for some reason. Aside from all that, Dillon had confirmed with Duke that all but twenty percent of our money would be returned to us. Apparently, Oscar gave Dillon a heads up on that piece of info. At least I wasn’t out ten thousand dollars, only two.

But I stowed away my problems. For that night, Terrance, money, and everything else didn’t exist. I pressed the button again. Then I checked the text message Kelton had sent me earlier with the room number. Ding. The doors whooshed open. After a couple filed out of the elevator, I hopped in and hit number twenty-five. When the car began its ascent, so did my pulse. Our first date hadn’t gone so well. We’d both been on eggshells. We were still getting to know one another. Only tonight would be on a whole new level.

The churning in my stomach kicked into high gear as I got out of the car. I laughed as I looked in the mirror that hung on the wall right outside the elevator.

“No reason to be scared,” I said out loud. Despite the drizzle of rain I’d trudged through on the way from the “T” to the hotel, the little makeup I had on was intact. My cheeks were pale and my hair draped around me, but my eyes weren’t as red as they had been earlier from lack of sleep. I smiled at my last thought. I probably won’t get much sleep tonight either.

I made my way to room twenty-five twelve, which was two right turns off the elevator. After a long trek down the hallway, I arrived at Kelton’s room. He’d instructed me to meet him at 9:00 p.m. I rapped on the door with a shaky hand and nausea ready to rise. We’d been through our first kiss, first touch, first eye contact, first fight—lots of firsts, but never had we been intimate with each other.

As I wiped my damp hands down my jeans, the door opened with a light click, revealing a shirtless Kelton with his colorful lizard tattoo snaking out of sight into his jeans. I wiped my hands on my legs again and again. The way I was going, I was about to start a fire. Or maybe I was on fire.

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