Chapter NINE
LEAH SET THE wine in her floorboard for fear the bottle would break before she got it to its rightful owner. Why did he have to buy such an expensive bottle? She knew it tasted expensive. Or at least better than stuff she’d had lately, but forty-two dollars? Maybe she’d get an extra neutering in this week to pay for it.
She’d slipped behind the wheel when her cell rang.
It was her office. Had Luis called? “Hey,” she answered.
“Hey,” Evelyn said. “You got a strange call.”
“Luis?”
“No,” Evelyn said.
Rafael? Leah dropped her head on the steering wheel and fought back a moan. “What kind of strange call?” If Rafael didn’t stop calling, she was going to have to tell Evelyn and Sara everything. She’d probably have to explain that she’d lied about her dad being killed shortly after Luis was born.
Not that it was completely a lie. The man was dead, only it didn’t happen until she was eighteen. Not that she’d cried or anything. When she’d seen his picture in the obituaries, she’d been emotionally baffled—unsure what she should feel. Especially after she read the two little paragraphs naming all the loved ones he’d left behind.
It’s official. Leah had come running into her aunt’s house that night. Luis and I don’t even exist.
“It was your neighbor,” Evelyn said, drawing Leah away from the past.
“Who?” Surely he wouldn’t be calling her. Had she even told him where she worked?
“An Austin Brookshire.”
She must have told him. “What did he want?”
“He said…” Evelyn paused. “He said someone broke into your apartment.”
“Crap,” she eked out.
“That’s what he said.”
“Damn you, Rafael,” she muttered under her breath.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She remembered finding Snowball those years ago, and instant panic filled her chest. “Are my cats okay?”
“He didn’t mention the cats.”
“Did he leave a number?” Leah’s heart raced.
“Yup.”
Leah dug in her purse for a pen. She pulled one out along with a small pad. Holding phone to ear with her shoulder, she said, “Give it to me.”
Leah jotted down the number. “Thanks. Bye.”
She dialed, praying and hoping with everything she had that her cats were okay. Unfortunately, she knew what Rafael was capable of.
Austin had removed the bugs. He didn’t see any other option. He’d also hidden the assailant’s gun in his apartment, and as soon as he was done with Leah, he’d call Dallas about having it checked.
Now, while waiting for Leah to call him back, or to show up—he didn’t know which she’d do—he pressed two fingers to his swollen eye and went into her bathroom mirror to check out the damage. He looked like shit.
He’d gotten in a couple of good licks on the attacker and could only hope the bozo looked worse than he did.
His cell rang. He didn’t recognize the number. Leah?
“Hello?”
“Austin?” She said his name. She had one of those lyrical voices.
“Leah?”
“Yeah. What happened?”
He’d worked on his story. “I saw your door open, I knocked and called your name, and this guy, I’m guessing he was there to rob your place, came at me. I tried to stop him, but he got away.”
“My cats?” Her voice sounded strained. “Are they okay?”
He looked at the bedroom door, which he’d shut when he noticed all four of them were in there. “They’re fine.”
“What did the guy look like?” she asked.
“I didn’t get a good look at him.” He spouted out a lie. “It happened so fast.”
“Was he Hispanic?” she asked.
No, but were you expecting him to be? Did she think her half brother had done this? While the guy hadn’t been DeLuna, he could still be behind it. But why?
“He could have been. I’m not sure.”
“How big was he?” she asked. “Smaller than you? Thin?”
Austin weighed her words. Smaller, thinner, and Hispanic. A perfect description of DeLuna.
“Bigger than me,” he said, thinking about having to explain how he got a black eye. “I didn’t call the police, I thought you…”
“No,” she said quickly.
He’d been prepared to try to talk her out of calling the police. Nothing was taken. No harm done. The cops probably wouldn’t even come out. His black eye was going to be the only thing hard to make light of.
“Did he take anything?” she asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Then there’s no reason to call the cops.”
“I guess not.” He was getting what he wanted, but it was too easy.
“Did he break in my door?” she asked.
“No. He must have picked the lock.” Or I forgot to lock it after I picked it. “You should get a new lock. The locks on these apartment doors are a joke.”
“Yeah.” She paused. “Is the place ransacked?”
He walked out of the bathroom, stepped over the broken lamp, and headed into the kitchen, where the bozo had emptied out the drawers. If the guy hadn’t been robbing the place, what had he been looking for? “A little.”
“Okay, I’m going to see if they can do without me the rest of the afternoon at the clinic and I’ll head that way.”
“You sure you don’t want to call the police?” If she was, he could replace the bugs.
“Positive.”
“Okay.” His suspicions grew. “I’ll see you when you get here.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Thanks.”
“No thanks needed.” He continued to look at the contents spilled out of the kitchen drawer. The line had gone silent when he realized something was missing. Squatting down, he rummaged through the items. Her little black book wasn’t there. And it had been in the drawer.
Why would someone want that?
The same reason he’d looked at it. To find someone, but who? Was someone else looking for DeLuna?
Roberto was finishing up for the day when his cell rang. Hoping it was Brad, he snatched his phone from his jeans. He’d tried to call him back but hadn’t gotten an answer. The fact that he cared about the big bruiser wasn’t good. Caring about anyone associated with DeLuna could be detrimental to his cause. Caring about anyone could be detrimental. When you cared about someone and they were yanked out of your life, it just hurt too damn much.
“Hello?” he answered.
No one said a word. “Hello?” he repeated.
The click of the call being disconnected sounded ominous. Was Brad in trouble? Roberto cut his phone off and then checked the number.
It wasn’t the same number as before. Had Brad ditched one cell and gotten another? He hit redial and listened to the phone ring. And ring. It went to voice mail.
“I’m sorry, the person at this number is not available. At the beep leave a message.”
He hung up.
“Hey, Rivera,” someone called out.
It was Patrick, another of Cruz’s main guys.
“Yeah?”
“Cruz called to make sure you dropped by the office when you leave.”
“Got it,” Roberto said. But he didn’t get it. And he liked it even less. Something bad was about to happen. He felt it in his bones.
“I just got off the phone with Nance,” Austin said. “He’s agreed to drive up here and bring the gun back. I was hoping you could get Tony or Rick to run a check for us.”
“What gun?” Dallas’s voice bellowed from the phone.
“The guy had a gun.” As soon as Austin had spoken to Leah, he replaced the bugs and called Nance, the nineteen-year-old college kid who worked at Dallas’s wife’s art gallery and who did odd jobs for them. Then he’d called Dallas and Tyler to fill them in.
“You didn’t say anything about a gun,” Dallas snapped. “Were shots fired?”
“It was unloaded.” Austin glanced at his watch. Leah could be walking through the door any minute.
“What kind of criminal carries an unloaded gun?” Dallas asked.
“A stupid one.” Austin answered. And a big one. He touched the knot on his head.
“Wait a minute.” Tyler spoke up, letting Austin know they were on speaker again. “Do you think this guy’s connected to DeLuna?”
“I don’t know,” Austin said. “That’s what I’m hoping to find out. I’m hoping we’ve got some prints. But my gut says he’s involved.”
“Why?” Tyler asked.
“Because I’m pretty sure he took one thing.” And Leah’s not wanting to call the police was suspicious as hell. For some reason he hadn’t told them about that.
“What?”
“Her little black address book.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Tyler said.
“I know,” Austin said.
Tyler spoke up. “I started snooping around Roberto’s past. I might have stumbled onto something.”
“What?” Austin asked.
“I don’t want to say until I make sure I’m right.”
“Just spill it,” Austin said.
“Not until I know for sure,” Tyler said.
“He won’t tell me, either,” Dallas said.
Austin heard the ding of the elevator opening. “Gotta go. But Tyler, I want to pick your brain about Leah Reece tonight.”
“What?” Tyler asked. “You didn’t do your research before you left.”
“Don’t make me kiss your ass. Because then I’ll want to kick your ass.” Austin clenched his fist and realized his eye wasn’t the only thing swollen. Footsteps echoed outside the front door. “Later.”