Secure Location - By Beverly Long Page 0,4

small of Meg’s back and enjoyed seeing the tightening of Slater’s chin before the man put his game face back on.

“It’s been a while, Cruz.”

The man made friendly and extended his hand. Cruz ignored it. He pressed on Meg’s side with two fingers. “We should go.”

“It’s the middle of the afternoon,” she said, shaking her head. She moved a few inches away from him.

“And your car is trashed in the middle of a public parking lot. Give yourself a break. You’re going to need to contact your insurance company, get started on a rental.”

Her shoulders sagged. He hated seeing that. Still, he could tell by the way she was chewing on the corner of her mouth that she wanted to be the good soldier and finish out her shift.

But then, common sense, nerves, fatigue, whatever, finally won. She looked at Mr. Perfect. “I’ll be in early tomorrow,” she promised.

They walked in silence to Cruz’s white Ford rental car. Once inside, he couldn’t help himself. “I think he’s gotten shorter. And he might want to cut back on the Botox. Half his face didn’t move.” It was a cheap shot. The guy looked good. Polished. Smooth. Everything that Cruz wasn’t.

She rolled her eyes. “Just drive. Please.”

Other than turn here, turn there, it was the last thing she said to him for twenty minutes. Finally, she pointed to a group of three-story brick buildings that all looked the same. “My condo is in the middle building.”

Decent neighborhood. Not much character. Certainly not what he’d expected. “I figured Slater was the downtown loft type.”

She gave him a look that could kill. “I live alone.”

Cruz, who was rarely surprised, had to work real hard not to show that she managed to shock him. She’d followed the man halfway across the country. To live alone? Was it as simple as the two executives felt the need to be very discreet? Would there have been push-back from the corporate office if their relationship became known? He had a hundred questions.

But he didn’t ask. Didn’t want to admit how much he wanted to know. Had been a cop too long to show his hand.

The neighborhood was quiet. Just one old lady hauling a shopping cart behind her. Still, he went two more blocks and then turned around and came at it from the opposite direction. Nothing jumped out at him. There were a few parked cars along the road, all empty. He pulled into the lot, parked and turned to her. “Give me your keys,” he said.

She scowled at him. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Okay. This was good. She’d evidently spent the drive regrouping. But what the hell did she expect? He was a cop. Her car had just been vandalized and now he wanted to check her apartment. He took a deep breath. “If you could be so kind as to give me your keys, I would be grateful for the opportunity to enter in advance of you in an effort to survey your living quarters and ensure that it remains an environment conducive to your ongoing safety. But only if it’s no trouble, of course.”

She let out an audible sigh. “Let’s just get this over with.”

How could he have forgotten? She liked ending things. Quickly. “I guess I made an assumption that sleeping with you for six years entitled me to a little familiarity.”

Pink blotches suddenly appeared on her fair skin, just above the collar of her gray blouse, proving that some things never did change. When Meg was frustrated or angry, she didn’t hide it well. They used to joke about it, saying that she’d make a lousy undercover detective.

Was she remembering all the times they’d been more than a little familiar? How they made love in the park, with oblivious strangers just feet away? Or perhaps the weekend they moved into their house? Eighteen hours. Every damn room. “Meg?” he said, his voice cracking.

She shook her head. “Just forget it. Please. Go do your thing. All I want is to be able to go inside my house and forget about the last three hours.” She tossed the keys in his lap. “Unit Six. The number is next to the door.”

He pointed at the car keys in the ignition. “It’s too hot to sit out here without the air on. Keep the car running. If you see or hear anything that looks weird, get the hell out of here. Call 911 on the way.”

She reached out a hand but pulled back before she