What the Lady Wants Read online

  "Big deal. So are mine. We both handled it last night." Mitch frowned. "How the hell did they get Mae's prints?"

  "They took them from her room."

  "And while they were doing that, she skipped?"

  "No, she skipped while they were arresting Carlo. For vandalizing your car."

  Mitch started. "I didn't call in a police report on that yet."

  "Newton did it for you last night. He told the police it was probably Carlo. The Riverbend PD is very enthusiastic about Carlo. That bit with the finger really annoyed them, and then they showed up at Mae's with the warrant and got him as a bonus. They're pretty pleased in general."

  Mitch put his head on the steering wheel. "So now Carlo thinks I turned him in. Great. The last time he thought somebody ratted on him, Armand died. Thank you, Newton."

  "Forget Carlo. Think Mae. As soon as you find her, bring her in."

  "I don't know where—"

  "Don't mess with me on this, Mitch." Nick looked grim. "As soon as you find her, bring her to me, and I will go with her to the police. This fugitive bit is not good. We've got to get her off the street."

  "I don't want her to have an arrest record."

  "I may be able to stall them on that." Nick shifted in his seat. "They've got enough to charge her, but I don't think they're happy about it. They're not dumb, these guys. If I can guarantee she'll stay put, they may release her to me. But she's got to come in. If they find her, they'll arrest her, and all I'll be able to do is mop up."

  "And get her off," Mitch prompted.

  "That, too, but let's hope to hell it never gets to court. Mae's awfully photogenic. She could be the Hard Copy flavor-of-the-month."

  "Oh, hell."

  "Forget that for now. Just find her." Nick started to get out of the car. "Oh, I forgot. What do you want me to do about the eviction?"

  "Find out who's evicting me, for starters. But I have a pretty good idea whose behind it."

  Nick nodded. "Sure. I'll get somebody on it. Wrongful eviction. Financial harassment. I'll make something up. Anything else while I'm at it? Paternity suit? Breach of promise? Prenuptial?''

  "Nah. Mae can have anything I've got."

  Nick grinned. "You and Mae, huh?"

  "You don't sound very surprised."

  "I'm a lawyer. Nothing surprises me."

  Mitch shook his head. "Nothing used to surprise me until I met Mae. Now everything does."

  Nick's expression sobered. "Find her, Mitch."

  Mitch nodded. "That's my plan."

  Mae had walked for an hour before she realized where she was going.

  She stopped and looked at the tree-lined, brick-paved street. Armand's town house was just around the corner.

  Where would the police look for her first? Gio's or Claud's, probably. Work, definitely. Mitch's, maybe.

  And sooner or later, Armand's place. But probably later.

  She turned the corner and walked to Armand's front door, fumbling in her purse for the key so she could unlock the door and get inside as swiftly as possible. But once inside the cool dimness of the hall, she stood trembling, finally reacting to the shock of the police. "They're here for you," Carlo had said, and she'd accepted it at once. Carlo knew about police. If he said they'd come for her, they had.

  And it could only be for one thing. Somebody was finally taking her lie about Armand's death seriously.

  She moved slowly through the archway into the living room, listening to see if anyone else was in the house. It seemed filled with the empty silence that only deserted places have, a desolation born of loss. People had been happy here once, and now it was empty. She could feel the unhappiness in her groin, like a cramp, and she ached for Stormy and what she had lost. Even though Armand had been a jerk, Stormy had still loved him, and in his own way, he'd loved her. And love was a terrible thing to lose.

  She knew that because now she had love to lose. She had Mitch.

  She sank onto the soft amber couch and tried to think.

  She couldn't stay here too long. Sooner or later, they'd come here, if only to look for clues. The temptation to go upstairs and crawl into a bed and never come out again was overwhelming. She could live there forever, going out into the garden at night to see the stars. It would be a sanctuary, and she could stay there alone forever and no one would hurt her.

  Except that someone had to take care of June and Harold, and the police would definitely show up sooner or later, and there were no sanctuaries. There were no safe places in life. That's why you had to keep moving.

  And besides, she didn't want to be alone. She wanted to be with Mitch.

  Think, she told herself, but she didn't know enough to puzzle out what was happening to her. Something had happened to all that money, but she didn't know what. Someone was shooting at her, but she didn't know who. The police wanted her, but she didn't know why. She thought longingly of Mitch, not as a savior because he wasn't the savior type, but as a partner, somebody to share the puzzle with. She wanted to tell him everything and say, "What do you think?" and argue the possibilities with him, go and find out things with him, and just be with him. Not for comfort, not for support, just for the lightness of being with him.

  But he wasn't there, and she was alone, and she had to think of something fast. She let herself fall back against the couch and rest for just a minute. She was so tired from no sleep the night before and the adrenaline rush that morning and the six-mile walk in a daze that thinking became as strenuous as lifting heavy weights. She was so very tired. She closed her eyes, and tried hard to think, and tried very hard not to panic.

  "Oh, thank God, Mitch!" June dragged him through the front door and threw her arms around him. "She's gone, and the police were here!"

  Mitch patted her on the back. "Get a grip, kid. Are you okay?"

  "No." June sniffed. "I don't know where she is. And Harold's eye is swelled shut."

  Mitch blinked at her. "What does Harold's eye have to do with this?"

  "Carlo hit him this morning when Harold tried to stop him from going up to Mae's room." June sniffed again, her expression a hybrid of anger and sorrow. "We're trying to decide what to do."

  "Let me see this eye." Mitch prodded her toward the back of the house. "And then I'll take care of the rest."

  "Oh, good." June's shoulders sagged with relief as she led him toward the kitchen, her usual glide degenerating into more of a totter. "I knew you were going to be good for us when Mae brought you home the first time."

  Us? Up until then, Mitch's plans for commitment had centered on Mae, but June's assumption brought him up to date. Mae meant June and Harold, too. And Bob. He watched June's platinum head bob in front of him as she shoved open the kitchen door, and felt a rush of affection for her. She wasn't particularly deep or intelligent, and God knew, Harold wasn't anybody's grandpa, but they'd loved Mae and brought her up to be the woman he couldn't leave, and he owed them. They were good people.

  Harold looked up as they came in, his eye purple and swelled completely shut, and Mitch felt rage tighten his throat.

  "Carlo needs smacking," he said to Harold.

  "I tried." Harold's face fell into morose pleats. "He's a fast son of a bitch."

  "Then I'll have to hit him from behind." Mitch bent to get a better look at Harold's eye. "How's your head feel?"

  "I'm okay."

  "Stop being a hero." Mitch gently lifted the swollen lid back and checked Harold's pupil. "Headache?"

  "Yeah." Harold's good eye shifted to June. "It's not bad."

  "Dizziness?"

  "No." For the first time since they'd met, Harold looked at Mitch without glaring at him. "It's not a concussion. It's just one hell of a bad black eye."

  "Okay." Mitch straightened. "I have to find Mae. Are you two going to be okay on your own for a while?"

  June swallowed, but Harold said, "Hell, yes."

  "Stay here," Mitch told him. "I have no idea when I'll be back, but if Mae's in a mess and I need to reac