Her phone buzzed with an incoming text. ‘It’s Alec again,’ she said. ‘He’s asking me if I’ve gone in yet. I’m telling him no, and why. Hmm,’ she said a few seconds later. ‘He says he’s brought reinforcements and to tell you to drive to the McDonald’s one block north of here.’ She responded, voicing as she typed. ‘My appointment is in ten minutes.’ She chuckled. ‘He says, “This will be worth it. Thorne will be happy. We are in a white van.”’
Thorne immediately pulled away from the salon and began to drive. ‘I like to be happy, but call him. I want to make sure it’s him and that we’re not getting spoofed again.’
Gwyn did as he asked. ‘What’s up, kid?’ she said, putting Alec on speaker when he answered.
‘I’m busy,’ he snapped.
‘We needed to know it was you.’
‘Oh.’ His voice softened. ‘Didn’t think about that. Sorry. It’s me. Gotta go.’
‘There it is,’ Thorne said. ‘The white van. And there’s Ford.’ Taylor’s fiancé sat behind the wheel. The panel behind him slid open, revealing Alec, who waved Gwyn inside.
Thorne lowered the window so that he and Ford could talk. ‘He’s going to wire her,’ Ford explained. ‘We didn’t want you to tell her not to go in, in case we couldn’t get here in time, but traffic wasn’t too bad. Park your SUV and get in the van. We’ll park close enough to the salon that you can storm the place if you need to.’
Thorne breathed easily for the first time since leaving the safety of Gwyn’s bed. ‘Thank you.’
Ford grinned. ‘Thank Clay. This was his idea.’
‘Excuse me,’ Alec protested. ‘It was my idea. I just made Clay think it was his.’
Gwyn smiled at both young men. ‘Whoever had the idea, I thank you two for coming all the way out here.’
Alec was checking the connections as Thorne climbed into the van. ‘You have a tail, you know. Black SUV. Escalade.’
Thorne pulled the van’s door shut. ‘I know. Detective Hector Rivera. He’s a member of Joseph’s joint task force. JD introduced him to us when he dropped us off at Gwyn’s condo this morning.’
Ford glanced in his rear-view mirror. ‘You know you could have come back to Clay’s house,’ he said seriously. ‘They have lots of room.’
‘I know,’ Thorne said. ‘But I can’t help thinking that if I’m not there, they’re safer.’
‘I don’t think that’s true,’ Alec said. ‘I think this Tavilla asshole is going after the people who are important to you. Whether you’re there to see it or not seems immaterial.’
‘You’re probably right,’ Thorne admitted. ‘But I still don’t want to paint targets on their backs any more than I have to. We need to go now. It’s almost five thirty.’ He sat next to Gwyn on the middle seat and Alec moved up front with Ford.
Alec waved his hand. ‘Make it so, Number One.’
Ford snorted. ‘You are such a geek.’
‘And proud to be.’
Gwyn grabbed Thorne’s hand. ‘I’m glad he’s proud to be a geek, because he knew how to wire me up.’
‘Me too.’
They pulled back in front of the salon with a minute to spare. Gwyn grabbed Thorne by the tie and pulled him down for a hard kiss. ‘It’s going to be fine.’
Love you, he wanted to say, but he held it back. ‘Be careful,’ he said instead.
She winked as she got out of the van. ‘Count on it. We have unfinished business.’
He watched her saunter away, then glanced at the two younger men in the front seats. Both stared at him open-mouthed.
‘Wow,’ Ford murmured.
‘That was . . . wow,’ Alec echoed, then he grinned. ‘You’ve been holding out on everyone, Thorne. Just think of how excited the ladies are going to be over this news. I can’t wait to tell them.’
‘Too late,’ Ford said smugly. ‘Just texted Taylor. Everyone will know in about three seconds flat.’
Thorne wanted to be annoyed. He really did. But he was too damn happy. Giddy. Like a damned teenager.
Then Alec waved his hand. ‘Gwyn’s in the salon. I’m recording this, but if we’re quiet, we can hear.’ He connected his phone to the processor he wore behind his ear, then put the phone on speaker so that Ford and Thorne could hear too.
And that fast, Thorne’s giddiness turned to dread. She’d better be careful. They both had too much to lose.
Seventeen
Bethesda, Maryland,
Tuesday 14 June, 5.30 P.M.
Gwyn glanced around the reception area of Angie’s very upscale salon, taking in the displays of expensive cosmetics and hair products, all high-quality stuff. It was good she’d given a fake name, she thought wryly. She had enough cash for the salon service itself, but she would have been tempted to splurge on the makeup, and her credit card clearly said Gwyn Weaver.
Interspersed among the product displays were several framed magazine and newspaper articles, many with Angie’s photo, so at least Gwyn would recognize her on sight. Angie had received ‘Best Of’ awards for the salon and ‘Businesswoman of the Year’ awards from the local chamber of commerce as well as several women’s professional organizations. She’d achieved success and the respect of her community.
Gwyn really hoped that she wasn’t in league with Tavilla. But if she is, I’ll help take her down. No way was this woman going to hurt Thorne. Not again.
‘Amber Kelly,’ she chirped to the woman behind the desk. ‘I have an appointment with Angie.’
The woman smiled wanly. She was young, pale, tall, pencil thin, and dressed all in black. ‘You’re our bride-to-be. Congratulations. Would you like some champagne?’
‘Please,’ Gwyn gushed, bouncing on her toes, which in four-inch heels was harder than it looked. ‘This has just been the perfect day.’
And it had been. She still wore the glow of sex with Thorne, although that last time had seemed like so much more. She’d been more than content to give him pleasure, but he’d wrested control only a few minutes into her efforts, rolling her to her back, sliding into her . . . reverently. She’d held his gaze the entire time, and even though she’d had to crane her head back to do that, it had been worth it.
Worth it, worth it, worth it. Those had been the two words he’d uttered over and over as he’d taken her, each roll of his hips as gentle as a slow wave. Bracing himself on his hands, he’d held his body high over hers, careful with her, like she was fragile and precious.
She’d felt precious. And even though they’d tried positions where she was able to feel his skin with every slide of his flesh into hers, this one seemed far more intimate.
When she’d come, it had been so hard she’d seen white lights twinkling all around her. And when he’d come, it was with a silent intensity that made her shiver all over again.
‘Wow,’ the receptionist murmured. ‘I am so very jealous of you right now.’
Gwyn blinked to find the woman holding out a flute of champagne. She accepted it with a polite but puzzled frown. ‘Why?’
The receptionist’s smile turned sly. ‘You know that scene in When Harry Met Sally where Meg Ryan fakes an orgasm? I have a feeling I just watched the real thing.’
Gwyn laughed, slightly embarrassed, then even more so when she remembered that Thorne, Alec and Ford were listening to every word of her conversation. ‘Guilty as charged,’ she managed, taking a sip of the champagne to cover her discomfiture. ‘Oh my. This is really good.’
‘Only the best for our clients. Come with me. Angie is ready for you.’
Gwyn was directed to a stylist’s chair behind the wall that provided the clients with privacy from those waiting in reception or anyone walking past the big windows looking out onto the street.