One of the Good Guys Read online

  “Nothing. I just said it was unusual. Are you always so touchy?”

  “Only with snakes who’ve been spying on me,” she snapped, refusing to look at him.

  “Libby.” His voice softly cajoled.

  She looked up to see him waving his white napkin, which he’d stuck on the prongs of his fork. “Can’t we call a truce, at least for the remainder of the meal? Hostility always gives me indigestion.”

  In spite of her anger, Libby felt herself soften a touch. He looked so ridiculous, waving the makeshift flag in front of his handsome face. “All right, a truce. But just for the remainder of the meal.” She smiled slowly. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for anyone’s discomfort due to indigestion.”

  “Good. Now tell me how you came to be in the pawnshop business.” He replaced the napkin in his lap and smiled at her expectantly.

  “I practically grew up in the pawnshop. It never entered my mind to do anything else.” Her features softened and a smile touched her lips, her earlier anger tempered by thoughts of Vinnie. “My father always told me I was brought into the pawnshop by an angel who pawned me in exchange for a harp of gold.” She laughed softly. “For the longest time I couldn’t figure it out because I always thought gold harps were standard equipment that every angel received upon entering heaven. You know, every angel got wings, a white robe and a harp of gold.”

  “Your father sounds like a very special man,” Tony observed.

  “Oh, he is. My mother died when I was very young. My father raised me. He’s a tough old cougar, very strong and independent.”

  “And I have a feeling his daughter has an independent streak in her, as well,” Tony said, efficiently twirling a bite of spaghetti neatly onto his fork and popping it into his mouth.

  “Something my ex-husband couldn’t accept,” Libby explained. Then, realizing she had provided herself with the opening she’d been looking for, she continued. “Speaking of Bill, I’d like you to do me a favor. When you report back to him or whatever it is you private eyes do, please tell him to stop this harassment of my life. Tell him to stop spying on me.”

  “He doesn’t think of it as spying. From what he told me, he thinks of it more like a guardian angel service he’s providing for you. He’s concerned about the neighborhood where you live, the kind of work you do.”

  “But that’s ridiculous. I don’t need a guardian angel,” Libby scoffed. “All I want is to be left alone to get on with my life.” She pushed away her half-eaten hamburger.

  “He still loves you,” Tony said, as if to explain Bill’s actions to her.

  “He doesn’t love me—he thinks he does, but he doesn’t. He just doesn’t like to lose. He’s sure that I left him for another man, and he won’t be satisfied until he’s proved the fact. That absolves him from failure. Then the breakup isn’t his fault, it’s the ‘other man’s.’” She closed her mouth, realizing she’d said far too much.

  They finished the meal in silence as Libby withdrew into herself, mentally contemplating the problems the vandalized shop held for her. She would have to contact her insurance company about the dishes and vases that had been destroyed. She cringed inwardly at this thought. She’d already paid an exorbitant price for insurance. Another rise in the premiums would really crimp her budget.

  Still, that thought didn’t begin to depress her as much as the task of telling some of her customers that their items had been destroyed. Her customers had entrusted their valuables to her, believing she would hold those items safely until a time when they could come back and claim them. She had betrayed their trust, and it was this knowledge that pained her more than anything.

  “Are you all right?” Tony’s eyes gazed at her sympathetically, making her aware of how sensitive he seemed to be to her moods.

  She nodded. “I was just thinking about the mess at the shop—all the things that were broken. Monetarily speaking, none of the things were worth much, but to my customers many of the items were invaluable.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for the break-in,” Tony said, pushing away his now-empty plate and shaking a cigarette out of the pack.

  “Yes, but I should have had some sort of security system installed…or something—” She broke off helplessly.

  “You’re the victim, remember? Don’t make the mistake of blaming yourself. If you want to lay blame, do it at the doorstep of the person who broke into your shop, but don’t blame yourself.” His voice rang with an authority and conviction she couldn’t ignore, and she nodded at him gratefully.

  “Ready?” he asked, standing up as he lit his cigarette.

  “Ready,” she agreed, also rising. She fumbled in her purse and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. “Lunch is on me,” she said firmly as they approached the cashier.

  “Oh, no. I invited you to lunch,” Tony protested.

  “Please, I want to do this. After all the help you gave me in cleaning up the shop, I feel like I owe you,” she said earnestly.

  “And I’ll just bet you always make sure you aren’t obligated to anyone for anything,” he observed, a touch of amusement making his mustache twitch once again. “Okay.” He relented after a moment. “Lunch is on you. Are you going back to the shop?”

  She shook her head. The morning events had been too unsettling. “No, I think I’ll just go home and make some phone calls to the insurance people.” She looked at him curiously. “So, what are you going to do now that your cover has been blown and you won’t be following me anymore?” she asked as they left the restaurant.

  “The first thing I intend to do is sleep for about twenty-four hours.” He smiled and for the first time she noticed that he looked tired. “Then I’ll wait for the next case to come up.”

  “Will you have to wait long?”

  He shrugged. “As long as it takes. In the meantime, I have several ongoing jobs with large companies as a sort of unofficial security consultant. I come in periodically and check out their security systems, evaluate their effectiveness and make suggestions as to how the systems can be improved.” They stopped walking as they arrived at Libby’s car. “I’ll follow you home,” Tony said.

  “That really isn’t necessary,” she protested stiffly, some of her earlier resentment coming back.

  “But I insist. I always see my subjects home.” He opened her car door, allowing her to slide in behind the steering wheel. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Oh, no, you won’t,” Libby muttered as he slammed her car door. She started the engine and took off, laughing aloud when she caught sight of Tony’s surprised expression as he realized she wasn’t waiting around for him. She turned the steering wheel, pulling into the traffic and ignoring the honk of the irate driver she’d cut off as she’d pulled out.

  There was no rhyme or reason to her actions—he knew where she was going, he knew where she lived. But this little game of beating him there made her feel exceedingly good. She wanted no more investigations of her life. She simply wanted to be left alone.

  She drove as fast as traffic would allow, determined to be inside her apartment before he could catch up to her. She’d be satisfied if she never saw a private eye for the remainder of her life.

  She whirled the steering wheel, rounding the corner that led to her apartment and braking with a squeal of astonishment. There, in her parking space, was the tan Buick. Even from where she sat, she could see the wide grin of amusement that lit Tony’s face.

  She muttered an oath of irritation and pulled her car to the curb. The man was living up to the title of guardian angel, for the only way he could have beaten her here was to have flown.

  “I told you…you’re good, but I’m better.”

  She looked up to see him standing beside her car, a lazy smile on his arrogant face.

  “I don’t find you amusing,” she retorted, making him jump aside as she threw open her car door.

  “Oh, and I was trying so hard,” he said lightly, then added in a more serious tone. “I told you, I always
see my subjects safely home.”

  “But you’ve forgotten. I’m no longer your subject.” Libby walked toward the building, her anger making her steps short and jerky.

  “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong.” He fell into step beside her. “You’re my responsibility until I report back to Bill.”

  “This is absolutely ridiculous.” She turned away from him without waiting for a reply. Ignoring him, she forgot the elevator and stomped up the four flights of stairs that led to her apartment. She fumbled with her keys, flushing as they skittered to the floor. She fumed inwardly as he picked them up and put the correct key in the lock, unlatching the door and swinging it open.

  He bowed gallantly. “Now my job is officially done. The lady is safely home.”

  “Good riddance,” Libby exclaimed, stepping into her apartment. She stifled an outcry as she viewed the chaos that greeted her. “What’s going on?” she cried, unable to comprehend the shambles in her apartment.

  “What?” Tony stepped in, took one look at the mess, then quickly shoved her behind him.

  Libby opened her mouth to complain of his rude treatment, then gasped as she realized a gun had somehow materialized in his hand.

  “Stay behind me,” he commanded in a whisper, taking another step into the ransacked apartment. “Whoever did this may still be in here.”

  Stay behind him? If Libby had the ability, she would have instantly become melded to his backside. “Tony…that’s a gun,” she squeaked inanely, her body pressed tightly against his back.

  “Shh,” he hissed, taking another awkward step forward, shadowed by Libby’s leg, which moved as if joined to his.

  They moved like this throughout the apartment, checking every corner, every closet. As they crept past the dresser mirror in the bedroom, she had an irresistible urge to giggle. They looked like an old-time vaudeville act in a bizarre dance without music. It was the look on Tony’s face that kept her giggle trapped deep within her. Gone was the easy, lazy amusement she’d come to identify with him. His facial features were now tensed with the cold, calculated look of a man accustomed to coping with dangerous situations. His eyes were dark orbs, glittering with detail-consuming observation.

  “It’s okay, there’s nobody here,” he said, lowering the gun that had been leading their way around the small apartment.

  “Are you sure?” she whispered, still clinging to his back like a baby koala bear to its mother.

  “I’m positive,” he answered, then grinned. “Besides, I’m beginning to enjoy this a little too much.”

  Libby blushed hotly and quickly stepped back from him, suddenly aware of how her full breasts had pushed insistently into his firmly muscled back.

  A violent trembling seized her body as she looked at the ruins surrounding her. She wandered around, touching an item here and there, moaning as she saw her cherished possessions broken, torn apart, destroyed. The entire apartment had been thoroughly gone over, nothing left untouched. She turned tortured eyes to Tony. “Why?” she breathed softly. “What in the hell is going on?”

  He shrugged, having no answers. Unable to control her spasmodic trembling, she stumbled to the sofa, her breaths coming in shallow, quick gasps. She was numb, stricken by the fact that she’d been violated not once, but twice in the same day.

  She watched dully as Tony wandered around the apartment. She followed his gaze, noting the way the television had been gutted, the chair cushions slashed. In the kitchen, the drawers had been pulled out and emptied onto the floor. The cabinet doors hung open, their interiors showing signs of riffling.

  “It looks like somebody was searching for something,” Tony said.

  “But what? I don’t have anything of value.” She felt a hysterical giggle bubble to her lips. “Some of the furniture might be valuable to an antique collector, but nothing was taken…at least nothing I can see.”

  “Hmm,” Tony murmured thoughtfully. He disappeared into the kitchen and returned a moment later carrying a tall glass of cold water. He held it out to her.

  She took the glass from him, her throat scratchy and sore from the ache of suppressed tears.

  “We need to talk,” he said, his eyes searching her face thoughtfully.

  She merely nodded, wondering what there was to talk about. She certainly had no answers for the craziness of the day.

  “I think it’s fairly obvious that the break-in at the pawnshop and this one are somehow connected.” He began to pace in front of her. “It seems curious to me that nothing was stolen from the shop. It’s filled with televisions, stereos, VCRs and such, yet the only thing you could find missing was your daily ledger.”

  “But the police seemed to think that the thieves must have been interrupted before they could take anything. Or that it was kids and the ledger was taken by mistake or thrown away.”

  “I can’t buy either of those explanations, especially now. It’s too much of a coincidence that both your pawnshop and this apartment have been broken into.” He stopped pacing and looked at her once again, his dark gaze so piercing, he seemed to be trying to see into her very soul. “What could they have been looking for?”

  “How should I know?” she asked. “I told you before, I don’t have anything of real value. Certainly nothing worth all this trouble.”

  “Somebody apparently thinks you do.”

  “That’s their problem,” she retorted tiredly.

  “For the moment, it seems to be your problem,” he returned. “That pawnshop of yours… You haven’t borrowed any money from anyone lately…you don’t happen to have any high-finance backers or anything like that?”

  For a moment she stared at him incredulously. “Are you asking me if I have a connection to organized crime? Don’t be ridiculous.” She eyed him with a sudden misgiving. “How do I know you don’t have something to do with this? My life was very quiet and manageable until you began following me.” Her gaze narrowed suspiciously.

  “I guess we’ll just have to trust each other,” he finally said with staid calmness.

  “Guess so,” she quietly agreed after a long moment, too tired to sustain her suspicions and realizing Tony’s involvement in this mess made no more sense than her own involvement.

  As exhausted as she was, she roused herself from the couch, unable to stand the disorder around her for another moment.

  “We should call the police and report this,” Tony said, picking up a Navajo blanket from the floor.

  “No. I don’t want them here,” she protested, pointing to where the blanket had been hanging on the wall. “I don’t want anyone else pawing through my things, poking into my life.” She shrugged. “Besides, what could they do? Ask me a million questions, then tell me it was the work of bored kids or dope addicts.” She was aware that her voice sounded as hollow as she felt. She returned to the cleanup work, not even protesting as he began to work alongside her.

  “I guess I’m going to owe you another meal,” she said, trying to smile in spite of her chilled fatigue.

  He smiled at her, a touch of humor back in his ebony eyes. “I have a feeling that before this is all over, you’re going to owe me a hell of a lot more than just a meal.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Despite Libby’s protests, Tony insisted the police be called and a report filed. The officers arrived, looked around, made their report, then left.

  Libby and Tony worked on the cleanup long after total darkness had fallen outside. They spoke very little, but the silence between them was a companionable one.

  Twilight made an appearance, taking an instant dislike to Tony. The big tomcat crawled out from his hiding place beneath the couch, hissed and spat and spent the rest of the evening sitting on his hook rug staring unblinkingly at Tony.

  Libby’s anger deepened as they worked, and she realized that many of her things could not be repaired, but would have to be replaced. The television set was destroyed, as were the stereo and any other mechanical items she owned. The chair and sofa would have to be r
e-covered as deep rents had been slashed into them. The mattress on her bed would also have to be replaced. It had been cut and much of the filling had been pulled out.

  Again and again Libby asked herself what kind of animals had been in her apartment. What could they have possibly been searching for with such vicious intensity? She was nearly overcome with exhaustion and bewilderment when she and Tony finally collapsed on the sofa, the worst of the mess straightened up.

  “Thanks for all your help. It would have taken me all night to clean by myself.” She wrinkled her brow thoughtfully. “It’s just too bad we didn’t find any clues to help solve this mystery.” She looked at her watch and gasped. It was after ten o’clock. She pulled herself off the sofa. “Why don’t you just sit tight and relax for a few minutes and I’ll fix us a pot of coffee? I’d say we earned it.”

  Tony nodded wearily.

  “The coffee will just take a minute,” Libby called from the kitchen. She opened her refrigerator, wishing she’d bought some sort of cake or something suitable to serve with coffee. The only thing she had plenty of was cans of Twilight’s stinky cat food, and somehow that didn’t seem the proper thing to serve as a snack. She leaned against the counter tiredly, waiting impatiently for the dark brew to finish dripping through the filter.

  In the living room, Tony settled back on the sofa. God, he was exhausted. He’d spent a miserable night in the cramped confines of his car, and the last thing he’d expected from the day was to be handed a mystery.

  The search that had taken place both at the pawnshop and here had been total and complete, nothing left untouched. What was being sought? And was Libby as innocent in all this mess as she professed to be? It was a question his tired brain couldn’t answer. Still, innocent or not, there was something about her that challenged him, stimulated him. His back still burned from the feeling of her soft breasts pressed tightly against him.

  He’d been acutely aware of her as they’d worked together to clean up the apartment. The rooms had smelled of her, a feminine scent that conjured up visions of perfumed breasts, soft thighs and evocative heat. Dangerous thoughts, he cautioned himself, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand, wishing she’d hurry up and get the coffee out here so he could drink a cup and get the hell home.