Serving Up Trouble

Chapter 11

Heart pounding, palms damp with sweat, Sam watched Angie walk away from him toward the café.

Say some thing to her.

Anything.

But he didn’t, and she vanished inside without a glance back.

She loved him. Just like that. She loved him.

And she’d said it so…sweetly. So damn easily. So genuinely his heart clenched again, even tighter.

He nearly ran a red light. Twice. Cars honked at him. Lifting an apologetic hand and feeling like an idiot, he told himself to get a grip. He was a cop. He had important things to think about.

But nothing came to mind. Nothing at all.

Because nothing was more important than this, than her, and he knew it.

Angie smiled, laughed and talked during her shift, as always. But unlike always, her mind was else where.

She kept picturing the mixture of panic and befuddlement on Sam’s face as she’d left him that morning. Kept thinking about the reaction she’d hoped for, and hadn’t gotten, to her proclamation.

Well, she should have known better. She did know better.

And yet oddly enough she didn’t regret a thing.

After her shift, he was there waiting for her, just as promised. She’d expected no less. He got out of his car and opened the door for her. Got back in and drove.

All wordlessly.

She expected him to take her home. She expected him to get rid of her as soon as humanly possible.

She didn’t expect him to drive up to a nice outdoor barbecue place, where they got a table with such ease she knew he’d made reservations ahead of time.

Which made this…premeditated.

The nerves kicked up a gear.

The live band played too loud for talking-probably not a bad thing. The music was good, and though there was much unspoken between them, Angie felt…happy.

They danced.

That he even knew how to do so startled her, but they found their own rhythm together. And when, during a slow number, he rubbed his jaw to hers while holding her in those amazing arms of his, her eyes welled.

“Don’t,” he whispered in her ear, his hands moving slowly up and down her back.

“No, it’s okay.” She managed a watery smile. “It’s just that…I really like this.”

“Yeah.” He bent, put his lips to hers for a gentle, slow kiss. “Me, too.”

He took her to his place after that, still quiet as he led her into his bedroom. To his bed.

She lifted her arms for him, but he didn’t follow her down, not immediately. First he lit candles. Put on some soft music. Kicked off his shoes, moved close and pulled off his shirt.

He was beautiful, and in spite of everything, she ached for him. Then slowly, so slowly she ached all the more, he slid off her clothes, taking care to kiss every inch of flesh he exposed, until she lay before him, open to his gaze, quivering and tight with need.

He kicked off the rest of his things and Angie could only sigh because Sam by candlelight was the most magnificent thing she’d ever seen. Hard and sleek, he was poised over her, the muscles in his arms quivering as he tried to hold back.

But she didn’t want him to hold back. Not ever. So she arched up and slid her body to his. Chest to chest, thighs to thighs, and every where in between, until he let out a harsh groan.

Towering over her, he looked down, his eyes aglow with need and affection and hunger…and the same bafflement that always broke her heart.

He still didn’t know what to do with her.

But she knew what to do with him. “Love me,” she whispered, pulling him down to her, opening her legs to make room for his body, loving how he felt between her thighs, all hard and throbbing. For her.

Still, he tried to hold back. “Angie-”

“With your body, Sam. That’s all. Just love me.”

Closing his eyes on a groan, he blindly searched out her mouth and did just that.

Loved her until the first hint of dawn.

The next morning, Sam masked his panic well, but Angie still felt it and, this time, ignored it. After his telling her they hoped to close in on the case by that night at the latest, she walked into the café alone.

Her boss was chopping up a red pepper, singing at the top of her lungs to her favorite country station and keeping an eye on the boiling pot on the stove.

“Whew, it’s a chilly one.” Angie hugged herself and moved closer to the stove, wondering if she would ever feel as warm as she had in Sam’s arms. Wondering if she would ever get the chance to feel them around her again.

Josephine turned down the radio and gave her a long once-over. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh…nothing.” Angie put on her apron and tried to believe it.

“And nothing, I suppose, is why your chin is dragging on the ground.” Josephine stirred the pot, which emitted a delicious scent. “You didn’t get attacked in a bank again.”

“No.”

“Your apartment?”

“I wasn’t there last night.”

“Ah.” Josephine stirred some more. “You were with your wow cop.”

Angie looked out the window into the bright sun spearing through the fog and sighed. “He’s not my cop.”

“You make love last night?”

A little laugh escaped Angie. “That’s a bit personal, don’t you think?”

“Did you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Honey, if you’re not sure, then I’m really worried about you.”

“I made love,” Angie said quietly. “I’m just not sure he did.”

“Ah.” Josephine stirred some more and nodded. “You think it was just sex for him.”

Angie watched a couple walk down the street in the early-morning light, holding hands, laughing. Kissing. And said nothing because of the lump in her throat.

“Honey, you know, I don’t like to push.”

That got a laugh out of her. “Uh-huh.”

“Oh, stop. Maybe I push, just a little.” Josephine sniffed. “But I care about you.”

“I know.” Angie shoved away her melancholy and turned to smile. “I know. And I’ll be fine.”

“That man, he cares about you. Very much.”

“He doesn’t want to.”

“He’s afraid.” When Angie looked at her in surprise, Josephine nodded. “Just because he’s big and tough doesn’t mean he can’t fear. Matters of the heart terrify him. You need to be patient, that’s all. And don’t ever give up, not on some thing you want this much.”

She did want him. With all her heart she wanted to believe it could happen, but there seemed to be so much stacked against them. “How do you know so much?”

“I’m ancient, that’s how. Patience, Angie. You don’t have a lot of that, but you need to try.”

Angie laughed again, and oddly enough, felt a little better.

“Yes,” said Josephine, slowly nodding, watching her. “This time around you’re going to be just fine.”

Sam spent the morning with Luke. No less than a dozen times he pulled out his cell phone and started to dial Angie.

And about a dozen times he swore colorfully and stuck the thing back in his pocket.

“You always talk dirty to your cell phone?” Luke asked.

“It’s a new habit.” This was asinine, this in ability to do anything other than think of her. It had to stop.

But all he could think was, why hadn’t he tried to tell her how much he cared about her?

He told himself they’d have plenty of time to talk later, and during that later, in which he planned on having her naked and beneath him, he’d try to tell her then.

If only he could figure out how to put it into words.

By break time, Angie decided Josephine was right. It was time to go for it, in all aspects of her life. One thing at a time, of course, and first up…her fears.

With her tips and check in her purse, she headed to the bank. Once there, she wasted a good five minutes on the sidewalk, staring at the building. She told herself she was sweating from the walk, from the sun. Not from fear.

I’m not afraid of anything anymore.

Anything but Sam not wanting her love, that is. But she’d done the best she could there, and looking back on it, how she’d fallen so unexpectedly for him, how she’d been open and honest with her feelings, she knew she couldn’t have done anything differently. Wouldn’t have done anything differently.

Life was to be lived.

With that, she lifted her chin and walked straight through the doors of the bank, straight toward the teller smiling at her, the teller who thank fully wasn’t the same woman who couldn’t open her drawer during the holdup.

Angie deposited her money without mishap and, with a relieved breath, walked back through the bank with a genuine smile on her face.

“Angie.”

The sun was coming in the doors in such a way that the light sort of haloed the person in front of her. But she didn’t need light to recognize Tony-tall, dark and handsome as ever in his expensive suit, chic sun glasses and smooth smile.

“Angie. You look-” he ran his gaze down her uniform and held there “-the same.”

“Do I?” She grinned, because suddenly it seemed very funny. “I’m not.”

“I’ve called you.”

And she hadn’t returned the calls. Petty, maybe, but it was her own little way of keeping the power. “I’ve been busy. I’ve gone back to school.”

He removed his sun glasses. “I didn’t know. That’s fantastic. You’ll be out of that dead-end waitressing job in no time.” His eyes became warmer. “Why don’t you call me when you’re finished? I’ll hook you up with a job in the district.”

“I’m not going to be an attorney, Tony.”

His eyes registered surprise. “You’re…not?”

She kept smiling and shook her head. “I’m going to be an art history teacher with a serious painting hobby.”

“A…teacher?” He cocked his head, considering, then nodded. “Well, that’s good, too. I approve.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“That’s nice. But I don’t need your approval.” Gently, because after all, at one time she had cared for this man, she set her fingers to his chin to close his mouth.

Then she waved and walked around him, out of the bank, and onward to the rest of her life.

Sam and Luke finally got a break when they located John’s roommate…John Manning. They found him serving burritos to high-school kids on lunch break.

“Welcome to Burrito Palace,” the short, chunky twenty-year-old said to Sam and Luke. “We have lots of specials going. What can I get for you today?”

Sam flashed him his badge. The punk paled and crossed himself.

“God isn’t going to help you today, John,” Luke said easily. “I’ll take three tacos though, and-” He caught Sam’s hard stare and sighed. “Never mind. Tell your boss you’re taking a break. A long one.”

They took him to the station, offered him a deal. They’d be lenient on him if he helped them. Turned out, the kid really was just a disgruntled friend, and not involved in the credit-theft ring. His father provided his college funds, plus he realized a life of crime wouldn’t help his hopeful law career.

But he did recognize the picture of their suspect, who was apparently also a very ex-friend, and the son of the ringleaders. Tommy some thing or another. John gave them an address, and Luke and Sam got into Luke’s car.

Following the directions John had given them for Tommy, Sam knew a deepening dread he couldn’t explain. And it wouldn’t go away.

“This feels very wrong,” Luke said, suddenly and ominously echoing his worries.

“Yeah.”

“I wish I knew why.”

“Me too.” Despite his best intentions to the contrary, Sam kept thinking of Angie. It was strange. He’d come to the conclusion he needed to try to tell her how he felt, so why couldn’t he get over the feeling he’d be too late?

She loved him. She hadn’t let her fears rule her. She’d just come right out and told him.

So why hadn’t he told her?

Because he’d let his past color it. He’d told himself, over and over, no woman could or would ever love him as he was, and he’d come to believe it.

But he’d been wrong, and was still trying to get used to that.

They came to the end of John’s directions. Both of them looked out the window at the typical Southern California suburbia in front of them. Ranch-style house, in a row of other similar ranch-style homes, all built in the 1970s. Nice yards, most with bikes in the driveway, or other various kid toys. SUVs and flowered yards abounded.

“Middle-town, U.S.A.,” Luke said, watching a man mow the lawn. “Only things missing are the two-point-four kids playing in the yard.”

“Yeah.” Sam reached for his radio. “But hell if I can figure out what’s bugging me.” He radioed dispatch to run the place and then they got out of the car.

No one was home.

The man mowing the lawn turned out to be the landlord, who, after looking over their badges let them in.

The kitchen was small, cozy and very clean. On the wall was a portrait of a smiling kid…their suspect.

“Tommy?” Luke asked.

“Apparently.” Sam moved on down the hallway, past a few bedrooms that looked orderly and tidy, to a closed door.

“What are you looking for, some thing obvious like…?” Luke broke off with a long whistle. “Like that, I suppose.”

The room was a gold mine, lined with shelves filled with bins of mail. All stolen mail, if myriad ad dresses and names on the obvious bills and statements meant anything.

Another dead giveaway was the state-of-the-art computer equipment along one wall, including special laminating tools of the trade for ID theft.

“Definitely hit the lottery,” Luke agreed. “Now let’s get out of here and get our search warrant and come back all legal-like, shall we?”

They were halfway back to the station when Luke looked at him casually and said, “You have lipstick on the corner of your mouth. Looks like a very pretty shade of berry.”

Sam licked his lip and tasted Angie. “You might have told me that two hours ago.”

Luke just grinned. “And ruin your illusion that I have no idea what’s going on between you two?”

“You don’t have any idea what’s going on.”

“No, you don’t. Me, now I have a pretty good idea.”

Before Sam could respond to that, his cell phone rang.

“Uh…Mr. O’Brien?” said a hesitant voice. “This is John Manning.” The sounds of Burrito Palace came over the line. “Like, I remembered Tommy’s last name. It’s Wilson. Tommy Wilson.”

At the same moment, dispatch radioed them with the information on the house they’d just been in.

The renters? Ellie and George Wilson.

Tommy’s parents. But that was the least of their problems. Sam’s head snapped up as it all clicked into place. “Ellie and George Wilson… God. They’re the couple that runs the book store next to the café where Angie works.”

Luke shook his head. “Does Angie know them?”

“She says they’re friends-” He swore again, more viciously now. “Drive, Luke. Drive.”

Luke had already hit the gas pedal. “Driving.”

“Faster.” He shoved his fingers through his hair. “I can’t believe it. Ellie and George are running the identity-theft ring.”

“With Tommy.”

“John’s friend.”

“Ex-friend,” Luke added.

“Whom Angie kept seeing going in and out of the alley behind the book store.”

“Yeah. I bet there’s also an interesting room filled with interesting evidence at the book store.”

“I’m also betting that Angie identifying John probably pissed his mommy and daddy off but good,” Luke noted grimly. “Enough to make them start terrorizing her.” He dialed Angie’s cell phone.

“Think they’re all talk?”

“With how much money they have at stake?” Sam shook his head. “No way.” He swore again and leaned forward, as if that could get them there faster. Pick up, pick up, he silently urged Angie as her phone rang in his ear.

When she finally answered, he sagged in relief, flooded with so many emotions he could barely get his tongue wrapped around the words he needed. “Angie. Thank God.”

“Sam?” Her voice changed, became a bit un certain, and Sam cursed himself for that. She didn’t know where they stood, and that was his fault.

They had plenty to talk about. Mostly he had plenty to talk about, but that would have to wait now. “The case,” he managed, more unnerved than he could ever remember being. “We ID’d the kid.”

“The suspect?”

“Yeah.” They caught both a red light and traffic. Damn it. “Angie, I don’t have time to tell you every thing right now-”

“It’s okay.” Her voice was even enough, but he heard the hurt. “Goodbye, Sam.”

“No, wait! You need to stay at work. Okay? Wait right there for me.”

“I never wanted to be your responsibility.”

“I know, but that’s not what I meant. I’m almost there-”

“Look, Sam…” She lowered her voice to the soft whisper that always made his heart leap. “I didn’t tell you I love you to hurt you, or make you feel obligated in any way.”

“I know that, I-”

“I just wanted to share it, to tell you how I feel. That’s all.”

“Angie.” He spoke through his teeth. “I’m on my way to get to you. Just stay right where you are. Don’t leave the café.”

“But I already did.”

He went very still. “What?”

“I went to the bank. I had to, really, but guess what? I made it without panicking. I even ran into Tony, which was nice because it was sort of a closure thing, and-”

“Angie.” He closed his eyes, gripped the dash. “I want to hear all this. I swear, I do. Just later. Where are you now?”

“I’m on my break.”

He tried to remain calm. “Where exactly are you on your break?”

“Just right next door…at the book store.”