Heartbreaker (Buchanan-Renard 1)

“But you’ll make him leave, won’t you?” she pleaded. “He won’t listen to me, but he will listen to you.”

“Yeah? Since when?”

“You’ve got to make him leave when we do. If he doesn’t go, then I don’t go. Tell him that. Then maybe he’ll stop arguing.”

“Calm down,” he said when he saw the stricken look in her eyes. “Noah promised me he’d get him out of here one way or another. He may have to coldcock him and drag him out,” he added. “But hitting a priest isn’t gonna faze him. Noah gave me his word, so you can relax. Trust him.”

“Is anyone hungry?” Joe asked hopefully. As if on cue, his stomach growled.

“I guess you are,” Nick remarked.

“I’m starving. Feinberg was supposed to figure out a way to bring in some groceries, sneaking in through the back lot behind your house, but man oh man, those two old ladies next door are always looking out their windows. He hasn’t been able to get past them. They should be working for the FBI.”

“They don’t know you’re still here, or they would have said something to me or Nick.”

“I haven’t left the house since I came in,” Joe explained. “Those old ladies went out that afternoon, and I’m assuming they think I left while they were gone. I’ve been real careful about the lights at night,” he added.

“Couldn’t Feinberg bring the groceries from the other side of the house?” she asked.

“He couldn’t get to a door that way, and it was too much of a risk to try to hand them through the window.”

Laurant let the water out of the sink, dried her hands, and then began to look through the refrigerator for something for Joe to eat.

“You find anything in there? I sure couldn’t. I just ate the last of your cold cuts, and all that’s left is cereal,” Joe said.

“So the cupboards are pretty bare, huh?” Nick asked.

Laurant closed the refrigerator. “I’ll go to the grocery store tomorrow,” she promised.

“I was hoping you’d offer. I’ve got a list made up . . . if you don’t mind.”

“If you’re really starving, we could go out and get you something,” Nick offered.

Laurant shook her head. “Everything’s closed this time of night.”

“It’s not even ten o’clock. Nothing’s open?” Nick asked.

“Sorry. All the stores close at six.”

“I honest to God don’t know how she handles living here,” he told Joe. He straddled the chair across the table from the agent and added, “There’s not even a bagel shop within fifty miles. I’m right, aren’t I, Laurant?”

She’d just finished searching through her pantry and closed the door, empty-handed. “Yes, you’re right, but I get along just fine without fresh bagels.”

“I don’t suppose there’s a Krispy Kreme donut shop in town,” Joe lamented.

“No, there isn’t,” she said.

Laurant opened the freezer on the bottom of the refrigerator and began to search through the frozen vegetables.

“Did you find something in there?” Joe asked eagerly.

“Some frozen broccoli.”

“I’ll pass.”

The kettle started whistling, and Nick reached for a cup and saucer. “You want any of this, Joe?”

“I’d rather have iced tea.”

“We aren’t here to serve you, buddy. If you want it, fix it.”

Nick made Laurant sit down and served her a cup of the tea.

“Neither one of you should criticize the town until you’ve been here at least a week. You have to get into the swing of things first. The pace is different,” she said.

“No kidding,” Nick drawled.

She ignored the sarcasm. “Once you learn how to slow down, you’ll like it.”

“I doubt that.”

She was getting angry. “You should keep an open mind. Besides, if I want a bagel, I buy a package at the store and defrost them.”

“But those aren’t fresh,” he complained. “Everyone eats bagels, Laurant. They’re a national staple. What do all those college kids do? Bagels are healthy, damn it. Kids know that.”

“Oh, stop whining. You’re acting like one of those Americans who would come all the way to Paris and insist on eating at McDonald’s.”

“I wasn’t whining.”

“Yes you were.”

“Whatever happened to the sweet sister I met in Kansas City?”

“I left her there,” Laurant answered.

Joe got up from the table, grabbed the box of Rice Krispies from the cabinet, got the skim milk out of the refrigerator, and then reached for a tablespoon and the biggest bowl he could find. “This Brenner guy increased his offer by twenty percent to buy the woman’s bakery, huh?”

Laurant gave him a surprised look.

“I listened to your messages,” he stated. “And it sounded to me like Margaret’s close to folding. The deal could be too good to pass up, especially if she’s as old as she sounded over the phone.”

“She isn’t that old, but you’re right. The money would be her retirement.”

“You’re trying to save the town, aren’t you?” Joe asked.

She shook her head. “No, I’m only trying to save the town square. I don’t understand why people think progress means tearing down beautiful old buildings to put up slick new ones. It doesn’t make any sense to me. The town will be fine with or without the square, but the charm . . . the history . . . that will be lost.”

Nick watched her stir the tea. She’d been doing that for the last couple of minutes, but she hadn’t taken a drink yet. She sat motionless, staring pensively at the swirling liquid in the cup. The sound of the spoon clinking against Joe’s empty bowl eventually drew her attention.

Laurant noticed that he glanced at his wrist as he carried the dish to the sink.

“Joe, why do you keep looking at your watch?” she asked.

“ ’Cause I’ve got it wired,” he answered. “If the red light goes off on the panel I’ve hooked up in the guest room, it will trigger the alarm on my watch.”

Thunder cracked close by, and it began to rain. Joe was thrilled by the sound. “Mother Nature’s going to help us out tonight. Let’s just hope the storm’s a bad one.”

“You want a bad storm?”

“I sure do,” he answered. “Because Nick wants to disable the camera after you two have put on your little performance for our unsub. I’m gonna make the lights flicker a couple of times, and then I’m gonna turn everything off. I’ll hit the main switch,” he explained. “When the lights come back on, the camera won’t.”

“I figured you wouldn’t be able to sleep with the camera watching you,” Nick said.

“No, I wouldn’t. Thank you,” she said, relieved.

“The camera’s plugged into an outlet up in the attic,” Joe told her. “We’re hoping he’ll come inside to turn it back on, thinking that the breaker just needs to be reset.”

She nodded. “And you’ll be waiting for him.”

She propped her elbow on the table, rested her chin in the palm of her hand, and stared at the back window with its blinds closed. Was he out there now, watching and waiting for his opportunity? How would he come at her? While she was sleeping? Or would he wait until she was outside and try to grab her then?

Rain began to pelt the windows.

“You guys ready to go upstairs?” Joe asked. “The storm could slow down any time, and I want to take advantage of this opportunity while it lasts. I’ll go down to the basement and mess with the circuits. You two wait here until after I’ve turned the lights off and flipped them back on. Then you go upstairs and do your thing. I’ll give you five minutes and then I’ll turn everything off again. Nick, you dismantle the camera and when you’ve done that, shout down to me, and I’ll turn the lights back on.”

“Got it,” he agreed.

“There’s a flashlight on the hallway chest,” he said. “So you’ll be able to see what you’re doing.

” Joe pushed the chair back and stood. “Okay, just sit tight until the lights come back on. I’m going to keep flickering them every couple of seconds. I’ll yell when you can go up.”

He hurried around the corner into the back hall and down the basement steps. Nick stood in the doorway, waiting.

“You didn’t drink any of your tea. I figured out why you made it.”

She glanced up at him. “What’s there to figure out?”

The lights flickered twice, then went completely out. It was suddenly pitch black in the kitchen.

“Don’t get spooked.” His voice was a soothing whisper in the darkness.

“I won’t,” she assured him.

A flash of lightning lit the room for the briefest of seconds, and Laurant half expected to see a face looming in the gray light. She was getting spooked, sitting in that tiny room where he had made himself at home. God, how she wished she could jump in the car and run away. Why oh why had she come back?

Nick’s voice eased her budding panic. “Making tea is how you cope, isn’t it?”

She turned in his direction and tried to see him in the darkness. “What did you say?”

“When you get stressed, you stop everything you’re doing and make yourself a cup of hot tea. You did that a couple of times in Kansas City while we were at the rectory. You never drink it though, do you?”

Before she could answer, the lights came back on and Joe shouted, “Let’s do it.”

Nick took Laurant’s hand and gently pulled her from the chair. He didn’t let go of her as they went through the house and up the stairs. With each step she took toward the bedroom, her heartbeat escalated until it felt like it was slamming against her rib cage. The linen closet door was open, but she couldn’t see the camera.

Nick paused with his hand on the doorknob. “This has to look real. You understand what I mean? We want to provoke him, remember? That means we’ve got to get hot and heavy in there, and you’ve got to act like you’re enjoying it.”

“You’re going to have to act like you’re enjoying it too,” she pointed out. Lord, she was suddenly so nervous her voice cracked.

“Nah, I’m not going to have any trouble at all. I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you for a long time. Ready?”

“Just try to keep up with me.”

He wanted a seductress, and by God, that’s what he was going to get. She was determined to give the performance of a lifetime. They had the same goal in mind, to make the madman so jealous he would forget caution and come after her. They hoped his fury would drive him to do something careless. It was too late for second thoughts.

“Hey,” Nick whispered. “Smile.” He grinned as he added, “Maybe we ought to practice a little first. How long has it been since you’ve been tossed in the hay and mauled.”

“A couple of days,” she lied. “How about you?”

“Longer than that. Any surprises inside?”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. The usual stuff all young ladies keep at their disposal. Chains and whips on the walls. The standard equipment handed down from mother to daughter.”

She kept a straight face. “What kind of girls have you been hanging out with?”

“Good girls,” he assured her. “Real good girls.”

Laurant knew that Nick was trying to get her to laugh so she wouldn’t have stage fright.

As she pushed past him, she said, “Sorry, no surprises inside. Every girl has mirrors on her ceiling, doesn’t she?”

He was laughing when she opened the door. She went in first, flipped on the lights, and headed for the bed.

It turned out to be easier than she’d expected. She simply pretended she was modeling again. In her mind, the bed was the end of the runway, and it was her job to get there using every part of her body. She moved with easy grace, her hips swaying to the music she could hear in her mind, a pouty look on her face.

Nick watched from the doorway, stunned by the swift change in Laurant. She tossed her long thick curls provocatively over her shoulder as she glanced back at him with a sultry come-and-get-me look. When she reached the foot of the double bed, she turned and beckoned him forward with the crook of her finger. He had to remind himself that it was all an act. If eyes could smolder with passion, hers could burn down the house.

He walked toward his temptress, but she wasn’t quite finished shocking the hell out of him. As he reached for her, she shook her head, took a step back away from him and then slowly began to unbutton her blouse. She never took her gaze off him, staring directly into his eyes, waiting, teasing, beckoning.

He let her unbutton the blouse, but when she started to take it off and he saw the hint of her lacy bra and the soft swell of her breasts, he roughly pulled her into his arms, acting impatient and eager now. His hand moved to the back of her neck. He wound her hair around his fist as his other hand pressed against her spine, bringing her up close against him. Tilting her head back, he leaned down and kissed her long and hard.

The touch was electric. Her mouth was so soft, pliable, willing—damn, could she kiss. Her lips parted without prodding, and it was then that Nick gave in to his curiosity and desire. His tongue thrust inside to taste the sweet interior of her mouth. She stiffened in response, but only for a second or two, and then her arms found their way around his neck, and she was pressing against him, clinging to him as she matched his fervor.

The kiss went on forever. His mind knew it was all a performance for the camera, but his body didn’t care about that distinction. He reacted like any other man would in the arms of a beautiful woman.

He dragged his mouth away from hers and began to nibble on her earlobe. “Slow down,” he whispered, panting.

“No,” she whispered back. Then she tugged on his hair, pulling his head back so that she could kiss him on the mouth again. When her tongue touched his, he growled low in his throat.

She smiled with smug satisfaction against his lips and then kissed him passionately again, thoroughly getting into the role of aggressor now, but Nick wasn’t going to let her outdo him. He unsnapped her jeans and his hands moved to her spine and slipped inside the fabric. Cupping her backside, he jerked her up against his hard arousal. Shocked, her eyes opened, and she tried to pull back. He wouldn’t let her. His mouth took absolute possession, and within seconds her eyes were closed again, and she was pressing against his hard, warm chest. Pelvis to pelvis, the fit perfect, she rubbed against him. The way he stroked and caressed her with his hands and his tongue made her forget that she was supposed to be acting. She gripped his shoulders to keep from collapsing and kissed him back with honest longing.

From the darkened living room across town, the Peeping Tom watched. His roar of rage echoed through the house. Shaking, he picked up a lamp, ripped it from the socket, and hurled it at the stucco wall.

Retribution was at hand.

CHAPTER 21

She had trouble looking Nick in the eye the following morning. As soon as the lights had gone out the night before, Nick had abruptly pulled away from her and had gone into the hallway to dismantle the camera. She was thankful for the darkness then because she knew she looked dazed and disoriented. She had trouble getting her legs to work. She’d wanted to hide in the bathroom until she regained her wits, but that had been out of the question. She fell back on the bed instead and stayed there until her heartbeat slowed down and she could draw a proper breath.

Nick and Joe came into her darkened room and told her to get some rest. They would take turns staying awake. She didn’t know if Nick slept or if he got any rest at all. The only thing she remembered was the exhaustion that overtook her.

She woke up at daybreak and dressed in her jogging clothes, a snug-fitting, blue-and-white-striped spandex top that didn’t quite cover her belly button, blue spandex shorts, socks, and her comfortable but worn-looking white Reeboks. After securing her hair into a ponytail, she went into the bedroom to begin her stretching exercises.

Ni

ck came into the bedroom as she was coming out of the bathroom. He took one look at her outfit, and his heart skipped a beat. Every curve of her body was evident. “Jeez, Laurant, does your brother know you wear stuff like that?”

She began her waist bends and didn’t look at him when she answered, “There’s nothing wrong with my clothes. I’m not going to church. I’m going running.”

“Maybe you ought to put a big T-shirt over . . .”

“Over what?”

“Your chest.”

The shirt wasn’t going to cover her amazing long legs. He was having trouble taking his eyes off them. “And long pants,” he muttered. “This is a small town. You’re going to shock folks.”

“No I won’t,” she assured him. “They’re used to seeing me run.”

He didn’t like it, not one little bit, but who was he to complain? If she wanted to dress like a . . . runner . . . ah, hell, what was the matter with him? He had no business telling her what to wear. Even if they were in a relationship—which they weren’t, he quickly qualified—he still wouldn’t have the right to tell her how to dress.

Nick had already put on his running clothes, a faded navy blue T-shirt, gym shorts, white socks, and his battered, used-to-be-white running shoes. While she stretched her legs, he slipped his gun into the holster at his hip and pulled the T-shirt down to cover it. Then he picked up a small earpiece and tucked it in his right ear. Moving in front of the mirror above her dresser, he pinned a circular disc to his neck band just above his clavicle.

She was retying one of her shoelaces when she asked, “What’s the pin for?”

“It’s a microphone,” he answered. “So no dirty talking today. Wesson will hear whatever I say, and just for the record, Jules, I still think this is a badass idea.”

The voice inside his ear spoke back. “Duly noted, Agent Buchanan, and it’s sir to you, not Jules.”

Nick mouthed the word “jackass” to himself and then turned to Laurant, “You ready?”

“Yes,” she answered, and for the first time since he’d come into the bedroom, she looked into his eyes.