Unbelievable, Page 3

  “Now what have I gotten myself into,” I muttered, planting my face in my palm.

  Chapter 3

  Lilah

  “You’re very generous, Booker. I can practically redecorate the hospital’s entire east wing for that.” I slid my portfolio in the backseat and closed the door. The photos of Daddy’s office would be shredded when I got back to my apartment. I couldn’t run the risk of Gatto finding them.

  “Cole lives, eats, and breathes this place. I want you to help make it a home away from home for him,” Booker said. “A peaceful retreat, if you will.”

  “I’m surprised you’d trust me with this kind of budget. You don’t even know me. I could turn the room into a three ring circus.” I folded my arms and leaned against my car.

  Booker chuckled. “You forget you come highly recommended by Haley. I’ve known her for a long time. She seldom hands out compliments.” He pulled out his cell phone and handed it to me to read, pointing to a message from Haley.

  “Hot stuff,” I began, glancing up at him.

  “Ignore that. Scroll down a couple lines of message.” He looked away, fidgeting with his keys.

  I continued. “Lilah is very good. Too good. Hire her quick because once word gets out about her amazing talent, her prices will skyrocket. Call me later. I miss you something ba—”

  Booker took the phone from me. “I just wanted you to see her recommendation.” He tucked it back into his pants pocket. “I’d like you to draw me up some sketches, of course. You’re right, I don’t know you. As much as I think a three-ring-circus would be good for Cole, the hospital may not approve.”

  “Point taken. Do you want to meet back here when I bring the plans in for Cole? I want to make sure Cole is comfortable with the design also.” Booker agreed. “So, is there a significant other in his life?”

  He grinned. “Nope. Not for a long time. It’s literally been years since he’s been on a date.”

  “Maybe he’s gay?” I suggested. I found it hard to believe a guy as hot as Cole didn’t have women all over town.

  “Judging from the nervous wreck he was around you, I doubt it.” Booker reached out and shook my hand. “Go easy on him, Lilah. Don’t break his heart. He’s a great guy.”

  I smiled. “Deal.” Booker turned to leave when I remembered why I was in Port Fare in the first place. “Wait. I have a question for you. I’ve some money in savings and I’d like to do a little investing. It seems foolish to let it sit in a bank where it’s not collecting any kind of real interest, know what I mean?” He nodded. “With all the crooked people out there, I’m not sure who I can trust, and since you’re a cop I was wondering if maybe you could suggest someone reliable I could talk to.”

  “You bet. I’ll write you up a list and bring it by Monday,” he said, adding, “In fact, when you’re finished with this job, I’ll show you my investment portfolio if you’d like. You can see what I’ve done. Then you’ll have a better idea of what you may want to do.”

  Bingo. Exactly what I needed. Booker’s private info. Daddy wanted to know who he banked with, what credit cards he used, and he said to do whatever it took to get Gatto’s home security number. Looked like Daddy was about to get his way . . . as usual.

  “Thanks. That’d be very helpful.” I smiled and climbed into my car.

  A funny feeling gnawed at me as I drove to my apartment. Before meeting Booker, I’d prepared myself for the heartless, crooked cop Daddy portrayed, but he didn’t come across that way at all. Quite the opposite. Daddy had lied to me before, many times, in fact. Could he be lying about what had happened here three years ago too?

  Confused, I shook my head and went inside my apartment after parking my car under the shade of a tree. Not used to the thick, humid East Coast air, I wanting to curl up next to my A/C unit for relief. I pulled a wooden chair from the kitchen table over to the window-mount unit and cranked it up to high, letting the cool air blast my damp skin. My cell rang, cutting the joyous moment short. I took a deep breath, and bracing myself, pressed answer on the display screen.

  “I hope you have good news for me, princess,” Daddy spouted through heavy breaths.

  “Hi, Daddy. Great news. I got a job working for Gatto today.” I reluctantly turned the air down to low so I could hear better between the coughing fits that regularly consumed him. He had emphysema. The doctors gave him six weeks to live—that was over three years ago. But the past two months had been horrible. He discovered a clinic in Switzerland that was supposedly working miracles with emphysema patients. It was the only hope he had left.

  “It’s about time,” Daddy growled. “I’ll add the money to your account tomorrow. You need to get a move on, Delilah. I leave for the clinic soon. After my treatment, I’ll come straight to Port Fare to finish the job.”

  “I have the entire summer, right? I can’t force this. They’ll get suspicious. I met Booker today. He’s sharp.” I slipped my shoes off and walked into the bathroom for a hair tie.

  “We’ll do what needs to be done, princess. We’re almost out of money. The clinic is extremely expensive,” he insisted.

  “You promised I’d have ’til September.”

  “We’ll see, Delilah. Start working on the two cops. I need their information, especially Gatto’s home security code.” A coughing fit took over as he sputtered out, “I got to go, princess. You’d better not let me down again.”

  The line went dead. I sat down onto the tub’s edge, nauseous. I knew what was coming when I went to sleep. The nightmares. I hadn’t had them for over three years, but since returning from Mexico they’d been my constant companion. Daddy. He was the trigger—well, now that my sick pervert of a brother Alan was dead. I still struggled to block the memory of Alan and that day.

  I filled the tub with tepid water, slipped a handful of lavender into a cheesecloth sack and settled into the water with it, letting the aroma ease my tension. What a mess I’d allowed my life become. If my mother knew what I agreed to do, she’d roll over in her grave. I slipped below the water and held my breath until my lungs felt ready to burst before popping back up.

  I had to help Daddy. I had no choice. Once his revenge was complete, I’d be free to live my life how I wanted to. “Focus,” I muttered to myself through wet lips. Besides, they stole the money from Daddy in the first place. I was only taking it back.

  **

  Checking the folder one last time, I entered the hospital, excited to see Cole’s reaction to my ideas. I also revisited my plans for helping Daddy. With Prescott and Gatto as Cole’s best friends, it just might be easier to wiggle my way into their lives as Cole’s girlfriend than a mere employee of Gatto’s. Besides, I’d gone without a boyfriend for way too long, and with Cole there was no danger of falling in love. I liked my men wild and slightly crazy, like me. From what little I knew about Cole, those were not the adjectives used to describe him. Sturdy, dependable, boring, maybe—but not wild and crazy.

  It’d be a lie to say the idea didn’t make me a bit nervous. While I was a flirt by nature, it’d been four years since I’d used my “talents.” Four long, painful years.

  And it’s time to jump back in the saddle, girl. Cole was the perfect guy to kick-start my love life again. A simple, uncomplicated summer fling was just what the doctor ordered.

  I took the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator, and went directly to Cole’s office. The door was propped open by a small wedge of wood.

  “Hello,” I said, entering the space.

  “Hello, Lilah. You look nice.” Cole crossed the room in three easy steps. I looked down at my outfit, surprise that he liked it. I had on camouflage green shorts with black tights and a pink t-shirt that read Dancin’ Gangnam Style. I pinched my lips at the quizzical look he gave my footwear: mid-calf, black, army-style boots with multiple silver buckles. Way too hot for June, but oh-so-cute with this outfit.

  “Booker not here, yet?” I pushed my eyeglasses up my nose. The humidity made it impossible to keep
the dumb things in place.

  “He can’t make it. He’s involved in this case that’s consuming his schedule.” Cole hesitated for just a moment before continuing. “He said for me to approve the plans.” I’d almost bet Booker lectured him about keeping an open mind.

  “Good. Then it’s just the two of us. Nice and cozy,” I beamed. Cole’s ears flamed red.

  “W-we can reschedule if you’d like,” he stuttered as I kicked the wedge out and closed the office door behind me.

  “No. It can be difficult with too many minds trying to decide what to do when designing a space. This is perfect.” I strolled causally over to his desk and set the folder down, pulling an ugly mold-green office chair over next to the desk. I glanced over at Cole, who stood stoically next to the door.

  “Come on, Opie. I promise not to bite . . . unless you’re into that kind of thing.” The poor guy’s ears went even redder at my words.

  “Opie?” he asked, his brow pinched together.

  I chuckled. “When my mother first came to this country, she didn’t speak English. My nanny, Birdie, helped her learn by watching a 1960’s sitcom, The Andy Griffith Show. Birdie insisted that it was the only show on TV of any redeeming value.”

  Birdie, I hadn’t seen her in forever . . . I wonder where she disappeared to after—

  Cole interrupted my thoughts. “Was that the one set in South Carolina and the guy was a sheriff?” He relaxed some and stepped over to his desk.

  “Yes. He had a son named Opie. He was the sweetest, most naïve little kid. I had a major crush on Opie when I was a child.” I opened the file and gathered my designs, spreading them across the desk.

  “So you think I’m naïve?”

  “I don’t know about naïve, but you certainly have a sweet, Opie-like quality.” His brows pinched together again. “Cole, it’s a compliment, I promise. The world is running short on goodhearted men.” I squeezed his forearm assuredly, which seemed to convince him I wasn’t mocking him.

  “Do you like?” I waved my hands over the four pages of my design.

  He sat in his dilapidated office chair next to me, picking up the first design, and saying nothing as he studied each one thoroughly.

  He took forever. I wondered if he hated my ideas. Or maybe he was trying to find a nice way to say no? I bit my lip, nervous that he might do just that. Finally, I couldn’t wait any longer. I took off my glasses and set them on the desk. “Well, do you like it?”

  “I—” he looked at me, stopping midsentence.

  “What’s wrong? Do I have something in my teeth?” I ran my tongue over them.

  “No. Sorry,” he said, perplexed. “I like these. You did a great job. The bookshelf placement is perfect. I have some wonderful books I can’t wait to set out. And your drawings, they’re beautiful. You really are quite an artist.” He took a deep breath and added, “But the wall color is too . . .”

  “Bold?” I supplied.

  “Yes. I think it would be better if you went with beige.”

  “This is the faux leather finished I told you about only in brown and black, no burgundy.” I pointed to the back wall in the drawing. “Don’t you like it?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. It’s impressive, but it’s not me. Really, I prefer beige. I’m not comfortable with all this color. I’m kind of a boring guy.”

  “We can change that.” I gazed deeply into his blue eyes. “You have beautiful eyes, Cole. I’ll bet you hear that all the time.” I leaned into him just a little as his ears turned red again.

  “No, not really.”

  “Then the women in Port Fare mustn’t be very bright.” To stoke the fires just a little, I rested a hand on his knee. He jerked ever so slightly. I almost felt bad for making him so nervous. Almost.

  “When can you start?” he asked, shooting out of his chair and rushing to small room’s center.

  “Today. Booker said he would set up an account for me at the paint and office supply stores. I’ll need you to come with me to pick out the furniture, but that will be in a week or so, after I paint. Do you know where I can hire someone to help me move stuff around?” I slipped the drawings back in the folder and walked over next to Cole, standing closer to him than he liked, if his suddenly rigid spine were any indication.

  “I have the next week off, so I’ll help you. The hospital’s thrilled Booker’s paying for this so I’m pretty sure we can have maintenance assist us if we need them.”

  “Great. Since you don’t like my paint color choices, you’ll need to come with me to pick out new colors,” I suggested casually.

  “Lilah, I trust you completely. Just pick out a nice beige.” He folded his arms tightly.

  Although uncomfortable with my nearness, I could see in his eyes he meant it. He did trust me.

  “Thank you, Cole. That means a lot to me.” Birdie was pretty much the only person on the planet who really believed in me. And my mother, when she was alive, of course. My dad, despite the fact that he spoiled me rotten, considered me incompetent.

  “I’ll pick up some boxes while I’m getting the paint and we’ll go through all this stuff, too. You can decide what you want to keep and what you’re willing to part with.” I pointed to the piles of notebooks and papers alongside the wall.

  “As in, get rid of?” Panic crept into his voice.

  “Think of it like ripping off a bandage; it will only hurt for a minute.”

  He only offered a weak grin with an even weaker nod of his head.

  Chapter 4

  While picking out paint alone, because Cole was suddenly too busy to go with me, I called and talked him into a sage green. It would add some color to the room, and it certainly was better than beige. I bought several packing boxes for us to use in de-junking the office and some painting supplies before hurrying back over to the hospital. I loaded my arms with everything we’d need for the day, including five boxes and a gallon of paint for cutting in, along with two paint brushes. As I headed across the parking lot, the packing boxes slipped out of my arms, as did the paint brushes.

  “Do you need some help?” A thin girl wearing denim capris and a pink t-shirt with matching flip-flops walked over and gathered an armful of boxes and the brushes. She truly had the most pathetic hair I’d ever seen.

  “Yes. Thanks. I’m redecorating an office. I guess I should’ve made two trips,” I explained, grabbing everything else. It wasn’t until she smiled that I recognized her. Her high school yearbook picture didn’t do her justice. Tall—well, taller than me since I was only five-foot-two—with pretty blue eyes and a beautiful smile. Maggie Brown. Like Booker, she didn’t appear menacing in the least. I know you can’t judge a book by its cover, except I usually had a sixth sense about those on the shadier side of life. Chalk it up to years of living with my father and the riffraff that he worked with on daily bases. So far I’d felt no unnerving vibes with these people.

  “Are you Lilah?” she asked as we walked inside to the elevators. I nodded and pressed the up arrow. “My name’s Maggie. Cole and I live together.”

  My heart stopped. The girl responsible for killing my brother Alan was Cole’s live-in girlfriend? According to Daddy, she dated one of the cops.

  We stepped into the elevator. Thankfully it was empty because with all my stuff we took the entire space.

  “That sounded wrong,” Maggie said with a short laugh. “He’s staying with my boyfriend Seth and me until we get married in a few weeks.”

  “How exciting.” I juggled my armload of stuff and pressed the number three.

  “Actually, I hope it will be in three weeks. I still don’t have a dress,” she admitted.

  “Why?” And how in the world do you think you’re going to get it in three weeks? Most people had their dress picked out months in advance, unless they eloped like I did and a dress wasn’t an option. Wow. That was another life time ago.

  “We moved the date up at the last minute. Originally, we planned on getting married next summer after I g
raduate college, and then we decided we were tired of waiting.” She shrugged. “Now I need to find a dress ASAP. To tell you the truth, I don’t really care anymore. I’m ready to get married in jeans. I’ve been to the bridal salon twice already and I can’t find the right dress. The lady who runs it is a female Darth Vader.” She shivered dramatically.

  “A female what?” The doors opened. We stepped out elevator and headed to Cole’s office.

  “You know, the bad guy from the Star Wars movies.”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ve never seen the movies but I’ve certainly seen all the memorabilia,” I admitted.

  “You aren’t kidding,” she agreed. “Cole hasn’t seen the movies either. He’d rather read.” Maggie pushed on the office door. It was stuck again. I pressed my back against it as she pushed again. It flew open and we stumbled in, sending the boxes everywhere. Cole jumped up from his desk and helped us gather them.

  “Sorry, Mags. I really need to get that door fixed,” Cole said, setting the boxes up against his desk. “I see you’ve met Lilah.”

  “Yes.” Maggie put her armload of supplies up against the wall.

  “Cole, it looks like a war zone in here. What’s going on?” I asked. The piles of papers and notebooks that lined the walls earlier lay everywhere, along with stacks of what appeared to be random drawings.

  “I’ve been going through my notes, trying to get rid of some of this. I don’t know why I’ve kept all of it,” he said, shaking his head.

  “I brought your lunch, Cole. You forgot it again.” Maggie opened her oversized canvas purse and pulled out a hard plastic container.

  Cole took it with a grin. “Leftovers from last night? I thought Booker ate it all when he stopped by after dinner.”

  “He did, except for this.” She grinned and handed it to him. “I know that chicken Alfredo is one of your favorites so I put some aside for you.”

  “Thanks, Mags. I owe you big.” Cole took the container and set it on his desk. A dangerous move if you asked me. It was about to be lost in a clutter of papers.