Deadly Odds (20 page)

Maybe that tone wasn’t exactly the right one. “Sorry. I’ve been calling you. After yesterday, I was…concerned.”

There. Said it. So what? He could sit here and sling some bullcrap about needing something from her, but really, all he needed was to know that she was A-okay.

“Um…”

“You sound…off.”

“I…ah…had a little accident.”

Ross sat straight. “Where? In the hotel?”

“No. I had that meeting outside the hotel. I’m in the E.R. waiting to see if I have a concussion. And a broken rib.”

Holy hell
. “Did you fall?”

“Sort of. I was coming out of the restaurant where my meeting was and I charged into the parking lot.”

“You got hit by a
car
?”

“No. The car was passing by on the street. Someone…well, someone stuck a gun out the passenger window and shot at me.”

Wait.
What?
He shook his head. “Someone
shot
at you?”

“Who got shot?” Marcia yelled from her desk.

“He missed,” Kate said. “I jumped out of the way. But I dove into a parked car and hit my head.”

“And your ribs.”

“And my ribs.”

“Who got shot?” Marcia yelled again.

“Hang on,” Ross said to Marcia. “What hospital?”

“Mercy General. I’m fine. Really. As soon as I get these test results, I’ll be back. Ooh, a nurse just came in.”

She pulled the phone away, muffling the conversation on the other end.

Having had enough of standby mode, Marcia appeared in his doorway. “What happened?”

“Kate got hurt. Someone took a shot at her from a passing car. They missed but she’s at the hospital getting checked out. Clear my schedule today.”

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

“Ross?” Kate said.

“I’m here.”

“I need to go. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

Ross dropped the phone into the cradle, grabbed his wallet and car keys from his desk drawer and whipped his suit jacket out of the closet. He shoved his arms into the jacket while walking. Already at her desk, readying to rework his schedule, Marcia glanced up. “Do I need to ask where you’re going?”

“I’m taking a run to the hospital to check on her. Call if you need me.”

On a normal day, a trip to Mercy General, a mammoth hospital on the outskirts of Vegas, would take a good hour from Lowville. Today? Forty-two minutes. He might have been overstepping here, but no one should sit in a hospital alone. Ever.

Particularly a woman who invaded his mind more often than made him comfortable.

After being directed to the last room—if the oversized cube could be called a room—on the right, he stopped for a moment to take a breath. He hated hospitals. Didn’t everyone? The stale, antiseptic smell and lack of fresh air was enough to chase people off.

Before entering Kate’s room, Ross hesitated. Focused on not freaking out. The woman was always so confident and strong and, yeah, he’d admit it…beautiful. He took a second to get his mind straight. To prep himself for the sight of Kate banged up. What would he see when he walked in? Bruises? Gashes?

If he imagined the worst, he’d be relieved if it wasn’t so bad. Plan for the worst. It worked for him in business. He hoped to hell it worked here.

He lifted a hand to pull back the curtain.

“Just got a couple of emails,” a man said from inside the room. “First one says they located the truck the shot came from. Five blocks from the diner. It’s stolen.”

“We figured that,” Kate said.

“Yeah. Second message is a photo of the guy you showed me. Different than yours though.”

“The one from Mark’s crime scene?”

Mark. The FBI agent she’d told him about.

“Yeah. Same guy. Different picture. They probably grabbed it off the video.”

“That’s him,” Kate said.

“The email says after he turned the corner, the cameras lost him.”

“This is a different angle. Was this the guy you saw at Fortuna? The pictures are blurry.”

Ross dropped his hand, stepped back from the curtain like it had blasted him. She’d seen something suspicious at Fortuna, a possible murderer, and she—their hot-shot security consultant—hadn’t bothered to tell him.

What. The. Fuck?

“I’m not positive,” she said from inside the room, “but look at that hook nose. How many people have a nose like that? Wait…shoot. I think I saw him at the hotel a second time. When I was in the club.”

“Seriously? With that nose, you’re just realizing it now? How did you not remember that?”

“Hey,” she said. “I’m a little off my game. What with two murders. It happens.”

Then she laughed. He didn’t know at what, but something about that laugh hit Ross sideways. There were plenty of laughs that meant all sorts of things. Laughs humored people, enticed people, pumped an ego. The killer of all laughs, the one Ross loved to hear—most times—was the one that happened just before an attractive woman he admired fell into bed with him. That was the laugh of intimacy. Of long, hot nights.

And sex.

Right now, Kate had that laugh.

And it wasn’t directed at him.

Which sucked on many levels. The first being obvious.

But, hang on, cowboy
. Women came and went in his life. Kate? Well, he’d let himself hope they were working on building something. Or at least figuring out if they could be compatible.

She’d told him she wasn’t in a relationship. He believed that. Now? He wasn’t sure what was happening. All he knew was he didn’t play in another man’s sandbox. His own code of honor he supposed.

Walking away would be an option. Not even alerting her of his presence. But he couldn’t do that. If nothing else, she needed to know he cared enough to check on her.

He shoved back the curtain.

A tall guy wearing jeans and a cotton button-down leaned against the windowsill. Holstered weapon and badge at his waist.

The ex Kate had mentioned was a cop. John something. Why would he be here? Unless, they were still…

Huh.

Slowly, Kate shifted her head from the cop to Ross, still in the doorway. Her eyebrows lifted, barely, which was so damned typical of cool, calm Kate.

“Hi,” she said, her gaze momentarily shifting to the cop.

Yeah. Awkward
.

Awkward had never been an issue before and it wouldn’t start now. Ross rolled right over it, walked to the bed, extended his hand to the cop. “Ross Cooper.”

“John Nawson, Vegas PD.”

Yep. The ex. Now that the mystery had been solved, all he needed to know was if Nawson’s visit was a business or social call?

He turned to Kate. “How are you?”

“I’m okay. Just waiting for the test results. They don’t think my ribs are broken but I might have a mild concussion.”

He flicked a glance at John then went back to Kate, their eyes holding for a long minute because, hell, Ross didn’t know what to do. Stay. Go. What? “I, uh, didn’t know you had someone here.”

Any other time, he’d just confirm she was in good hands and bolt.

Yet, he was still here because he didn’t want to be the man walking out.

I’m screwed.

“Actually,” Nawson said, his gaze shooting between Kate and Ross, “someone’s covering for me. If you can stay, I should hit it.”

Interesting. If Kate and this guy had a thing, there’s no way he’d leave her. At least he hoped not.

But who knew?

Holy hell, a million questions rammed through his brain.
Why is he here? Who were you meeting with?

The granddaddy of them all?
What about a murderer at Fortuna?

Kate continued to stare at him, those green eyes not giving away a damned thing. “That’s up to Kate,” Ross said, hoping like hell she gave him the answer that would make his day.

She turned to John, held out her hand and Ross drilled his heels into the ground, determined not to react. Too far gone. That was his problem. Somehow he’d let himself get crazy over this woman. And now, he stood anticipating what’s-his-name grabbing hold and it would fry Ross, absolutely burn a hole in him.

Something, with his history, he had no right to feel.

Screwed.

What’s-his-name didn’t grab on. Not fully. He gripped the end of her fingers, waggled them a little and let go.

“Thank you,” she said.

“I wouldn’t let you come here alone.” He jerked his head in Ross’s direction. “Now you’re not alone. I’ll let you know about witnesses. Call me if you need something.”

She won’t.
The words almost left Ross’s mouth.
Check that.
Offering that up was almost begging for a fight with Kate. A woman who made her own choices, picked her own friends.

Her own lovers.

She’d kick his ass five different ways if he tried any alpha crap on her.

He stepped aside and watched Nawson go, kept his eyes on him for a few seconds, stalling, getting his thoughts aligned before he had to face Kate and try to figure out exactly what he’d missed. Between an attempted shooting, a murderer running around Fortuna and the ex-boyfriend, he needed some answers.

Ones Kate apparently had and chose not to share.

Busy day so far.

He turned front, found her waiting on him.

“It’s not what you think,” she said.

He had no idea what to think. “Who says I’m thinking anything?”

“Well, that’s certainly a man-thing to say.”

“I don’t know what I should say. I’m…standing here. Not knowing what to do. And for me, that’s saying something.”

“I called him—John—this morning. He’s an excellent detective with great contacts.”

“Okay. That was smart.”

She patted the bed, inviting him to have a seat. He could be an ass and stay put. In fact, he wanted to be an ass.

Mainly because his nerves were gassed and sitting, staying idle, would do him no good. But he’d compromise. Ross walked to the bed, propped one hip on the side, letting his leg swing. She rested her hand over his, sliding her fingertips under the sleeve of his jacket and his body, as usual responded. He wanted her. All day, all night. Constantly.

Even when she was in a damned hospital bed.

“John’s a homicide detective. I wondered if he had any information on Dale Cousins. Plus, Mark was investigating Dale.”

“Whoa. That’s news.”

Kate nodded. “I couldn’t say anything. I wasn’t even sure what it was about. Mark had floated his name, but hadn’t given me anything else. Now they’re both dead. I was hoping John had information on the dealer and maybe that information could link the two cases. I also wanted to ask him about the message I found in my room. The handprint.”

“And to tell him about the guy you saw at Fortuna. Right? The hook nose you failed to mention.”

“Okay,” she said, “I can see how this looks bad. Like I kept it from you.”

“You did keep it from me.”

“Not intentionally. At the time, I didn’t make the connection. He was just some random guy in the casino playing with his phone.”

“And when did he become not-so-random?”

Because that was the meat of this thing. How long had she known and been keeping it from him?

“This morning. After I left Fortuna.”

Good. She hadn’t known for three days.

A bit of relief bullied free from his shoulders. All that tension from hours of worrying about her easing.

“Angel,” she continued, “the woman who’d told me about Mark, emailed me a photo of a man seen in the area where Mark was murdered. I didn’t see the email until I reached the meeting with John. When I hadn’t responded to the email, Angel texted me. Told me to check my email.”

“And the photo? It’s the same guy you saw at Fortuna?”

“I’m not sure. It could be. I’m guessing you heard that part of the conversation.”

“Yeah.” He waved a hand toward the curtain. “I wasn’t eavesdropping.” Kate gave him a look and he smiled. “Well, maybe I was eavesdropping.”

“It’s all right. I probably would have.”

She ran her fingers over the back of his hand, idly moving one direction then the other. By the unfocused look in her eyes, he figured the gesture wasn’t meant to be sexual, but all that stroking?

Yeah, she couldn’t do that too long or he’d be leaving here with a boner.

He flipped his hand over, wrapped his fingers around hers. “So what happened with this truck?”

“I was leaving the meeting with John. I stepped into the parking lot, not paying attention and some white pickup flew by. The passenger shot at me. John was still there so he called 911. He’s a good man. Like you, he didn’t want me to be alone. So he followed the ambulance here. That’s all. I didn’t purposely keep anything from you. I just wasn’t sure how it all fit together and didn’t want to unnecessarily alarm you.”