Eye of the Abductor (4 page)

His mother smiled. “Well, if she’s
playing games, I’d say pull back. Let her think you’ve lost interest. If she’s
interested, she’ll make the next move.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Your
grandmother is serious about changing her will. She wants to do it before the
cancer immobilizes her. She will cut you out of it, if you’re not married.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I should tell you to wait and
find the love of your life, but you can't afford to,” his mother added.
“There’s too much money at stake.”

“I don’t give a damn about her
money.”

His father dropped the paper. “You
should. We’re not talking about peanuts here. A million dollars is a lot to
turn your nose up at.”

“I don’t want to marry someone
just for money.”

“Make her a deal. After you
receive your inheritance, give her enough to make it worth her while, then
divorce her,” his dad said. “Don’t piss a chance like this away. With that
money you’d be set for early retirement.”

Brance shrugged. “I’ll think about
it.”

Though he knew he wouldn’t. Gramie
could take her damn money and line her coffin with it. He was a man of few
needs, and he had everything he wanted—his jeep, big screen plasma television,
and a few beers in the fridge. Besides when he finally took wedding vows with a
woman, it’d be for keeps.

“Don’t you know any nice girls?”
his mother asked.

“Only the one who returned my
roses.”

***

Saturday evening, Brance picked up
Linda, a woman who worked at Bartlett City Hall. He’d met her at a friend’s
cookout where he'd been pushed into the date.

At Ramono’s Italian Restaurant,
they were escorted to a corner booth. A fire flickered in a stone fireplace located
near the front. He studied the menu to avoid talking to Linda.

“Hi, I’m Allison, and I’ll be your
server.”

Brance’s breath left him as he
glanced up from the menu. “Hi, stranger. You’ve been making yourself scarce.”

“Like I said, I have a busy
schedule."

"Crazy, but I've missed your
music."

"I try to finish my exercising
before you get home."

Allison wore black pants, a long
sleeve white shirt, and an apron like the other servers. She’d pulled her hair
in a ponytail, revealing her slender neck.

For a moment, Brance imagined what
it’d be like to kiss her neck. Then he realized he was staring and turned his
attention back to Linda. “Allison lives below me.”

His date glanced away from the
menu only long enough to give Allison the once over. “I’m ready to order.”

“I could use a little more time,”
he said.

“I can bring your drinks. What
will you have?”

“Sweet tea,” Linda replied. “Light
on the ice.”

Allison flashed those green eyes
at him. “And you?”

“Coffee, black.”

In a matter of minutes, she
returned with their drinks and placed them on the table.

“I asked for lemon,” Linda
snapped.

Brance glanced up from the menu.
“No, you didn’t.”

"I'm sorry." Allison
intervened. “I’ll bring some out.”

“I think we’re ready to order.”
Brance waited for Linda to go first.

“I’ll have the shrimp pasta and a
Caesar salad.”

"I want a Caesar salad also
and give me the spaghetti and meatballs." Brance closed the menu and
handed it to Allison.

With efficiency, she returned with
two bowls of salad, bread, and a side dish of lemons. “Anything else I can get
you?”

Linda held up the glass. “This is
too much ice. I asked for just a little.”

Allison took the glass and
returned with a new glass of tea. “Is this better?”

Linda appeared annoyed. “Is there
any ice in it?”

“A little, as you requested.”

“Take it back and bring me water.
No ice.”

Allison left with the glass, her
face unreadable.

Brance zoned in on the silly boots
she’d worn before and grinned. After she’d given Linda the water, she waited on
other tables.

Keeping his eyes off of Allison
required a conscious effort. Anytime she came in the area, his gaze zoomed in
on her like a heat-seeking missile. He liked the way she moved, graceful yet
sexy.

After finishing off the salad, he
found little to talk about with Linda. He didn't like her. Bottom line, they
didn’t click. She had the personality of a pit bull. No way in hell, he’d take
her home. Sleeping with her could cause frostbite.

He glanced at his watch. “Our food
should be here soon.”

“She’s too busy to check on it.
She might be your neighbor, but she’s a terrible waitress.”

“I think she's pretty good
juggling all these customers.”

Before anymore was said, a man
came out with their food. Minutes later, Allison checked with them. “Is everything
all right with your order?”

“Everything’s great,” Brance
replied, trying to prevent Linda from answering.

“I’ll refill your drinks.”

“Before you do that, would you
return this to the kitchen? The pasta is too dry. It needs a little more
sauce.”

“I’d be glad to.” Allison scurried
away with the plate.

Five minutes later, she walked
toward their table carrying the plate of pasta. Her face appeared tight and
stressed as she set it before Linda. “See if this is better. If it isn’t, I’ll
be glad to bring you something else.”

After Allison left, Linda ate a
few bites, placed her fork down, and stared at it suspiciously as if waiting
for something to happen. “I think she did something to this. It has a strange
aftertaste.”

“I doubt it.”

“I’m not making this up. Taste
it.”

Brance dipped his fork into the
pasta and took a bite. "It's your imagination."

"I'm Sonny Ramono, owner. Is
everything to your liking this evening?"

"Fine," Brance replied
to the man.

"Actually, I think the
waitress did something to my food. I asked for more sauce and now it's
bitter."

“I'm terribly sorry. I’ll speak
with her.”

The owner pulled Allison aside.
Her face paled as she glanced toward them. She gave a slight nod and hurried to
another table. Hopefully, the man would see Linda for what she was, an
anal-retentive-bitch. Brance rarely had that opinion of a woman.

Allison returned. “Do you wish to
order something else?”

Linda shook her head. “No, I've
lost my appetite. Just give me more water.”

Allison returned with a full
pitcher of cold water.

“I hope you don’t expect any kind
of gratuity after the stunt you pulled with my pasta,” Linda said.

"That's enough, Linda,"
Brance stated harshly. "I apologize. The service has been excellent."

"My ten year old niece
could've done better."

Allison’s eyes narrowed, and she
resembled a female fire-breathing dragon about to incinerate the village.

She lifted the pitcher.

Tilted it.

The cold water splattered into
Linda’s lap.

Brance choked.
Shit!

Linda gasped and stood. “This is a
Ralph Lauren dress!” She glared at Allison. “It’s ruined!”

“Send me the bill,” Allison said,
with a hint of pride in her voice. She stood in a defiant stance with a daring
smile curling her lips.

Brance winked at Allison. “We're
ready for our check.”

“I’d be delighted to get it.”
Allison walked away. Before she’d gone very far, the owner stopped her. He appeared
angry. Apparently he’d seen the incident with the water. Instead of returning
with the check, Allison removed her apron, handed it to her boss, and left.

The owner walked to their table.
“I apologize for what happened.”

“It was an accident," Brance
stated. "The pitcher slipped from her hand." He knew damn well it had
been deliberate. He cast Linda a warning look to keep quiet.

"No charge for the
dinner," Mr. Ramono said.

"The food and service were
fine. I insist on paying."

Maybe now Allison wouldn't be in
as much trouble.

Once in his jeep, Brance paused a
few moments to harness the fury flaming inside him before speaking. “Lady,
you’ve got a problem. I’m talking mental here.”

She scowled so hard he expected
her face to crumble. “I was a little unreasonable, but it’s clear she’s interested
in you.”

“I’ve already asked her out. She
turned me down flat. Like I said, you imagined it.”

“Well, I didn’t imagine your eyes
glued to her ass all evening.”

“That’s not her fault. She
probably got docked a night’s wages because of you.”

He started the jeep, backed out,
and drove as fast as a pizza delivery man to get Linda home. Despite his hostilities,
he waited until she was safely inside.

Driving home, he regretted Allison
had been reprimanded. Before going up to his apartment, he tapped on her door.

She cracked it open. “What do you
want now?”

“You left before I gave you
the gratuity you deserved for putting up with my date.”

“I was fired.”

“Fired? Damn, Allison. I’m sorry.
I'll go back and speak with your boss.”

“It wouldn't matter. I’ve already
admitted to deliberately pouring the water on her.” She sighed. “Look, keep
your money. What do I owe for her dress?”

“Nothing.” He admired Allison’s
spunk. The woman had earned his respect and then some. Linda had gotten what
she deserved. “Can you find another job?”

“With so many restaurants around,
I should. It’s just that Ramono’s worked around my day job.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said
you’re busy.”

She didn’t answer him. Instead,
she changed the subject. “It’s late. And I have church tomorrow.”

He rubbed the back of his neck,
wishing there was a way to make it up to her. He considered what had happened
his fault. He should’ve put a stop to Linda's hostilities from the start.

“My mother’s been on me to attend
church,” he said, actually looking for a reason to prolong the conversation.
“Maybe I’ll surprise her in the morning and meet her there.”

“I’m sure she’d like that. I
really need to go.”

“Again, I’m truly sorry.”

“It’ll work out.”

“Well, goodnight.” He compelled
himself to step back from the door. She closed and locked it, then turned off
the outside light, leaving him in the dark.

A gold Chrysler sedan with its
headlights on was parked along the curb. He’d seen it there before but never at
night. The car pulled away and left the parking lot.

Brance trudged up the steps,
trying to think of a way to make it up to Allison.

***

Allison had no idea what had
gotten into her. She’d dealt with obnoxious customers before. Then the truth
hit her.

I was jealous.

She entered the bedroom and sat on
the edge of her bed, then rubbed her hand across the smooth walnut wood of the
antique, rocking cradle her infant son had slept in.

The cradle, a family heirloom, had
been the only thing she’d managed to keep when everything she owned had been
auctioned off. Fortunately, she’d shipped it to her father in Kansas in time to
save it.

She kept it nearby as a reminder
of what she wanted more than anything in the world. Nathan.

Anything else in her life not
directly related to that goal could be chalked up as a frivolous waste of time.
Tonight should be proof enough. Brance Stone had already caused more damage
than a swarm of hungry termites.

During church, life threw her
another punch below the belt. From the choir loft, she scanned the
congregation.

Her breath hitched.

Holy crap.

Detective Brance Stone sat by an
older woman. His mother, apparently.

Allison hoped she blended in with
the choir members, be another nameless face dressed in an off-white robe. She
found herself unable to take her eyes off him, unable to keep from studying the
contour of his handsome face. So far he hadn’t spotted her. He shared the
hymnal with his mother. Allison found it touching and sweet.

Afraid he'd feel her staring and
single her out, Allison diverted her gaze. She finally surrendered and glanced
back. He stared at her with a slight smile. Out of all the churches in
Bartlett, why did his mother have to attend here?

At the end of the service, she
escaped through the back door and hurried straight to the choir room where she
removed her robe and hung it up. In the outer hall, Brance waited with his
mother. He walked toward her. “I can’t believe you go to church here.”