Drawn in Blood (Burbank and Parker 2)

“Yes. Stop these men from hurting other women. It will make me very happy. Meili, too—happiness and peace.”

“I’ll do everything in my power to make that happen,” Sloane vowed, rising to her feet. “You have my word. And when I see you again to return this photo, I’ll tell you all about what I’ve done, and you’ll know you helped protect others.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Leo was a wreck.

It had been almost a week since Derek had caught him hastily reassembling Sloane’s FBI file. And while he’d perceived no overt changes in either Sloane’s or Derek’s behavior toward him, he knew the incident hadn’t been ignored or forgotten.

If Derek hadn’t been suspicious before, he sure as hell was now. Thanks to his own carelessness, Leo was probably right up there at the top of Special Agent Parker’s suspect list.

What had possessed him to go through Sloane’s file? What he was looking for wouldn’t be in there, even if the FBI had compiled full dossiers on each of them. He was a stupid, blind fool, searching for answers that didn’t exist.

Even so, if the FBI suspected them of anything more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time and keeping quiet about it out of fear…he had to know what that something was, and how deeply and personally each of them was involved.

The tinkle of a bell and the sound of a door shutting at the front of his studio nearly made him leap in the air. His head snapped around in that direction.

He sagged with relief when he saw Phil walking toward him—until he saw the panicky look on Phil’s face. Then, the relief vanished.

“What’s wrong?” Leo demanded. “Did Derek Parker contact you?”

“Derek Parker?” Phil stared blankly at him, oblivious to everything except his own stark fear. “Why would he contact me?” Awareness penetrated his agitated state. “Are you still obsessing over that stupid file he saw you putting back together? What could he think—that you’re clumsy? You are. That you’re nosy? You’re that, too.”

“Or he could think I was searching for incriminating evidence that could land our asses in jail.”

Phil gave an impatient wave of his hand. “You’ve been watching too many spy movies. The FBI is finished with us. Besides, if that file contained anything that pointed in our direction, do you think Sloane would have been stupid enough to leave it in plain sight when she knew you’d be alone in the cottage?” Shifting nervously, Phil wiped beads of perspiration off his forehead. “Leave it alone, Leo. There’s enough going on without you inventing more.”

“Obviously.” Leo turned his attention to his friend. “You look like death warmed over. Is your bookie on your back again?”

“He’s not just on my back.” Phil drew a shaky breath. “He’s threatening me. He says he has friends who could hurt me if I don’t pay him by next week.”

“Why is he pushing so hard? I just loaned you ten thousand dollars to give him. That should be more than enough of a down payment to calm him down.”

Silence.

“Wasn’t it?” Leo asked.

“No.” Phil was sweating again. “That was a drop in the bucket. You have no idea how much I owe him.”

“Well, I’m about to. Give me the grand total.”

More silence.

“Phil?” Leo prompted.

“A hundred and twenty-five.”

“Thousand?” Leo gasped. “You owe that Albanian crook a hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars?” He slapped his hands on his desk. “Are you out of your mind? None of us has that kind of money lying around. Not even Wallace—not anymore. Plus, you, better than anyone, knows that a withdrawal of that size would have the FBI in our faces in a minute.”

Phil sank down on a chair, lowering his head into his hands. “Leo, I don’t think he’s bluffing. He said his boss is a big shot in an organized-crime group. God knows what they’d do to me. And if you think a huge bank withdrawal would put the FBI on high alert, imagine how they’d react to my being worked over by the Albanian mob.”

“Fine. Okay. I hear you.” Leo’s mind was racing, searching for solutions. “Let me talk to Wallace. He’s going to a bunch of cocktail parties with Cindy Liu. I’ll be there, too. So will a crowd of rich guests. Maybe if Wallace and I put our heads together, we can come up with something.”

Phil’s head came up, and a flicker of hope lit his eyes. “When are you going to these parties?”

“They started last week. I’ve got a half dozen more this week and next. Stall your bookie. I’ll come up with something.” Leo sighed. “I always do.”

“Thanks. I can’t tell you how—”