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“In case someone tries to get you in the middle of the night,” he said, and grinned. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to go.”
Like she could sleep knowing he was in the next room, she thought after brushing her teeth, washing her face and applying a light night cream—her usual routine which she was determined to keep no matter how many killers were after her.
She had thought about changing into her longest nightshirt in the bathroom but since she and Landry would be leaving sometime in the middle of the night, she dressed in her darkest-colored jeans and shirt to be ready. Safer that way for everyone.
The living room light was out when she came from the bathroom. She couldn’t see Landry on the couch but she knew he was there. Just as she knew his eyes were on her.
She slipped between the covers and turned out the light, pitching the apartment into darkness. He’d indicated that he didn’t make love to virgins, and he was convinced she was one. She should have felt safe. But she feared it wasn’t Landry Jones’s willpower she had to worry about.
When she closed her eyes, she saw him grinning down at her as his lips moved closer and closer until he was kissing her again.
* * *
LANDRY HEARD her moan in her sleep and tiptoed to the bedroom door. A shaft of moonlight cut through a crack in the curtains and fell over the rounded curves beneath the thin sheet.
Watching her sleep, he had a hard time getting enough breath. The woman had no idea just how irresistible she was. Or how much danger she was in. She was determined that she could take care of herself. He shook his head at that foolish notion.
So far he hadn’t seen T or Worm. He figured they could be underground until all this blew over since both had been made when they’d killed the two police officers at the safe house and let Willa St. Clair get away.
Suddenly he felt as if someone had knocked the air out of him. He stumbled from her bedroom doorway, the words echoing in his head.
Let her get away.
He swore. Of course that’s what Freddy D. had ordered T and Worm to do. Let her get away so she could lead them to the disk. Freddy D. was too smart to use muscle like T and Worm to go after Willa St. Clair. He’d put someone with more finesse on her if he really wanted to catch her.
Someone like Landry himself.
He stepped to the window. Odell’s light was on in his apartment. The poolside area where they’d had the barbecue was empty, bottles and glasses still on the tables, but no sign of Henri. Or Blossom.
Was it possible he was being played? His heart beat a little faster. Was it the only reason he was still alive? Still free?
He felt like a puppet. Someone was pulling his strings. He thought about Zeke trying to kill him at the gallery. It hadn’t made any sense. It still didn’t. Unless he and Zeke had both been set up that night. If Zeke thought Landry was the dirty cop, thought he was lying about having the painting and the disk, thought maybe he’d turned and was either taking the disk to Freddy D. or sell
ing it to Freddy D.’s enemies.
Closing the blind, Landry went back to the couch, his mind whirling. The disk would be worth a small fortune if sold to the right people. If Zeke thought that Landry really had turned….
Landry knew he’d rather believe that than believe his friend had been the dirty cop.
The front door and the windows were all locked. He was a light sleeper. He’d hear anyone who tried to enter the apartment. He told himself that Willa was safe.
Lying down on the couch, he closed his eyes, trying to slow down his thoughts. Simon had gotten the disk from a reliable source. It would have valuable information about Freddy D.’s organization. But it would also have a list of who worked for him—including any cops.
Landry had to find that disk. Not just to prove his own innocence but to prove Zeke’s. Zeke and Simon couldn’t have died for nothing. If there was a dirty cop in Freddy’s D.’s organization, it couldn’t have been Zeke.
Music started to play overhead. He could hear the soft scuff of feet. Someone was dancing. The old woman. Alma Garcia. She’d said something else that Landry hadn’t told Willa, something that had shaken him.
She’d asked him if he’d come back to kill her.
He must have slept some. The music was no longer playing. Nor could he hear anyone dancing. Getting up, he checked outside. It was still dark, the moon high.
No lights shone in Odell’s apartment. Opening the door, Landry glanced below the balcony. Nor were any lights burning in Henri’s or Blossom’s apartments.
Not that one or all them might not be wide-awake. Would Freddy D. trust just one person with going after Willa and the disk? Even if that one person was Landry Jones? Landry didn’t think so. If he were Freddy D., he would have sent a backup.
He stepped back into the apartment, quietly closing the door, and tiptoed into Willa’s room, aware that Henri’s and Blossom’s smaller apartments were just below and the floor creaked.
“Ready?” he whispered next to Willa’s ear. She smelled heavenly. His lips brushed her skin. Soft.
