Hero for Hire Read online

  It had been Baba’s only request, along with frequent visits from Terry and Nina, which they’d done until Terry’s arrest. Since then Nina had stayed away as well, afraid to put a connection between the woman and Terry’s disappearance.

  As she climbed the stairs, she glanced at the hillside and the extensive gardens the older woman had so lovingly planted over the years. Normally the place was alive with color and growth, but the flowers were dry now, starting to wilt. Very odd, as Baba’s garden was a source of pride and joy. Hurrying her steps, Nina wondered if Baba had fallen ill, and if so, why she hadn’t said so two nights ago.

  At the top of the stairs, she stopped short, heart in her throat.

  The door was ajar.

  Just as Nina’s own had been the day before. A coincidence, she tried to tell herself. But as she knocked, the door swung open, revealing more terror.

  No destruction, as there’d been at Nina’s condo, but worse.

  On the tile foyer lay the huddled, far too still form of Baba.

  * * *

  IT TOOK RICK an hour to get the librarian to help him. She was as short as she was round and ancient, and she spoke very little English.

  Another hour was spent cooling his heels while she went painstakingly through the archives to find the requested microfiche. Just when he was about to blow his lid, his patience long gone, she reappeared.

  “We close for lunch in twenty minutes,” she said in Portuguese.

  “I’m going to need at least an hour—”

  With a sweet, uncomprehending smile, she walked away.

  “Wait!” He tried to translate into Portuguese, but she kept walking. Swearing colorfully in both Portuguese and English, he took several dirty looks from the people milling around. Rick gave them the look right back and got to work. Apparently he didn’t have time to mess around.

  Ten minutes whipped by while he digested all the information he could. Everything about the sailing accident seemed suspicious to him. First, there’d been warnings of an approaching storm. Second, Terry was not a boat person. By all accounts, she’d rather lie on the beach and tan her body than get on a sailboat, much less work one.

  Alone, no less.

  None of it made any sense, and as he finished reading all the articles and accounts, he switched to the photos given.

  And hit the jackpot.

  It was a picture of the investigation. They’d pulled the wrecked sailboat in. It lay on its side on the sand, and several authority figures had been photographed milling around taking notes and measurements.

  Behind them, and behind the police line, was a small crowd, all unidentified, all watching.

  Front row and center was a woman who looked haggard and full of fear. She had corkscrew auburn curls, and was the woman in the yearbook picture with Terry, the best friend from school. The woman most likely to sail around the world for the rest of her life.

  A master sailor, in other words.

  Not someone who would let her friend die in a sailing accident.

  Damn, Rick wished he’d gone through Nina’s bag and taken that yearbook, but she hadn’t wanted to give it to him and he’d let it go, not willing to resort to stealing it.

  He hated when his conscience got in the way of his work, and it wouldn’t happen again.

  Why had there been no mention of Terry having a friend with her that day?

  “We are closing for lunch.”

  His friend the librarian again. “Yeah.”

  “Now, senhor.”

  “I just need a few more—”

  “Now.”

  Since she was still smiling at him so sweetly, he smiled back, his most charming smile. “I just need—Hey!” He stood up when she ripped out the microfiche, grabbed the box with the others in it and walked away from him. “I wasn’t finished!”

  She simply sent him another sweet smile over her shoulder.

  Fine. He was finished. At least here. He had to hook back up with Nina and get that yearbook, whether she liked it or not. He’d find Terry through the friend. Case over.

  No more Monteverde sisters.

  And if something deep inside protested, if he wondered if he could really walk away from Nina, he ignored it.

  * * *

  SHE WASN’T at work as she’d promised. Rick stood in front of the huge reception desk of All That Glitters, watching the woman consult the logbook from that morning.

  She shook her head. “No, she never arrived.”

  Rick was overcome with dread. He knew damn well she’d arrived, he’d dropped her off himself. “She never came in?”

  “No, senhor.”

  He’d watched her walk into the damn building himself, which meant one of two things. Either she’d somehow gotten by the receptionist...or she’d fooled him.

  She’d fooled him.

  Damn her. Didn’t she know anything could happen to her without his protection? And where the hell had she gone? What had been so riveting, so dire, so important that she’d had to trick him into thinking she was going to work, and then sneak out?

  Something to do with Terry.

  She’d held back on him, he’d known that, but he’d looked into her deep, melting eyes and fallen for the warmth and affection he’d seen swimming there.

  What an idiot.

  And so was she, because like it or not, she’d attracted some attention. Whether it was the person who had supposedly framed her sister or some new threat, he had no idea, but it scared him that she would put herself in danger.

  Or maybe there was no danger at all.

  Maybe she was the bad guy.

  No. He couldn’t be that far off the mark, not with Nina.

  But she’s fooled you so far, pal, hasn’t she?

  He wanted to think there could be any number of reasons why she’d go to such lengths to make him believe she was going to work, then not go at all.

  But none of them pointed to anything innocent.

  How had a little slip of a woman gotten the better of an ex-Navy SEAL and federal marshal for God’s sake? He was definitely losing his touch.

  And his cool.

  It was happening just as it had before, with Mary Jo. He was letting his emotions in on this roller-coaster ride. A big mistake.

  It wouldn’t happen again.

  Back on his motorcycle, he took the crowded streets as fast as he dared, making his way to Nina’s condo.

  The place was closed up tighter than a drum.

  No Nina.

  He knocked, then pounded on the door, but it didn’t change anything.

  Nina was gone.

  Frantic, he turned back to his bike, wondering where the hell she’d gone, where the hell he’d go looking for her, when he heard her car.

  She pulled up, turned off the engine and leaned her head on the steering wheel.

  “Where have you been?” he demanded, stalking over to where she still sat, unmoving.

  When she lifted her head, her face was paler than a ghost, her pupils round as saucers. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

  Blood coated the front of her blouse.

  CHAPTER TEN

  BABA WAS DEAD. Not just dead, but murdered, in cold blood.

  Nina was too numb for hysterics. Too numb for tears. Too numb for much of anything, which made it a miracle she’d managed to drive herself home.

  She’d done so on auto-pilot, hardly even registering her hands directing her car into her complex, then parking in front of her condo.

  The horror of Baba’s murder kept flashing through her mind, threatening her shock-induced state of calm.

  For the first time in her life she didn’t inhale deeply of the ocean breeze or take a good long look out at the gorgeous Atlantic.

  But as she caught a glimpse of her front door, and the police tape still blocking the entrance, everything came rushing back, and it proved too much, abruptly shattering the blessed numbness.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head, then lowering her forehead to t