Your Mouth Drives Me Crazy. HelenKay Dimon

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      He made a face. “Do I need to define what truthful means?”

      “A woman should be able to ask for some clarification without being called a liar.” She twisted the empty pink wrapper between her fingers.

      “Fine. The missing yacht. She docks at Port Allen. Owned by Sterling Howard, wealthy businessman and all-around scumbag. Any of this ring a bell?”

      All of it. Especially the scumbag part. “That’s more than one question.”

      “It’s a description.” Kane leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “Right now, I’d settle for you telling me how you know Howard.”

      Kane hadn’t said how much of the truth he expected, which was good, because he wasn’t going to get much. This was her battle. Not his. “I’m in town to photograph him.”

      “What the hell for?”

      She made a tsk-tsk sound. “I answered your question. Now it’s my turn. How did you get kicked off the force?”

      He hesitated for a second before answering. “I didn’t.”

      “What does that mean?”

      He tsk-tsked right back at her. “One question only, remember? Your rules.”

      “You’re a—”

      “Don’t say it.” He stood up.

      She decided to push him. “You’re telling me that if I called police headquarters right now, someone would pick up the phone and confirm your job. Your title.”

      He grabbed the phone off the wall and pushed the receiver under her nose. “Ask for Ted Greene.”

      Okay, fine. He was the police chief. That still didn’t explain the vacation-versus-leave debate. She’d get to the bottom of that mystery once she solved her own.

      She slapped the phone away from her face. “I’m sure you could get this Ted person to cover for you.”

      “Not very trusting, are you?”

      “The handcuffs and interrogation ruined my mood.”

      “I asked one question, Annie. Not exactly a white-light-in-the-eyes shakedown.” Kane hung up the receiver.

      “You say potato…”

      “As fun as this is, it’s late. We should get to bed.”

      The word bed shot through her. “I’m not tired.”

      More like exhausted. The adrenaline rush had died down, leaving a trail of sleepiness in its wake.

      “You should rest. You’ll need it.”

      “A threat? I’m terrified,” she said in a bored, flat tone.

      He ignored the sarcasm. “Tomorrow you’re going to give me the answers to all of my questions.”

      “More tit for tat?”

      “Then we’re going to go on a little field trip to your hotel.”

      “What makes you think I have one?”

      “Unless you’re sleeping in a car. Where is it parked again?” He poured another cup of coffee.

      By her count, that made five. The guy must have a rock-hard stomach. At two cups, she tested her body’s tolerance. The hanging out and drinking part of her job never got easier. Alcohol or coffee, it didn’t matter. She preferred her own company. Just her and her camera and the room to explore.

      “A hotel,” she admitted.

      “Which one?”

      There was no use in hedging. He’d figure it out, so she gave him the name of the beach resort where she’d stayed before boarding the yacht. She should have checked out by now. She’d get right on that as soon as she figured out what to do about not having any identification or a key or her stuff.

      With the yacht missing, she needed everything in her room. She’d also need protection to escort her inside in case the same someone who pushed her off the yacht was waiting in there to finish the job. And Kane would fill the role of escort just fine. Once there, she’d figure out how to get him out of the way.

      “Hotel first, then we’re going to the marina,” he said.

      She couldn’t figure out if that was a good idea or a bad one. “Not to state the obvious, but the yacht isn’t there.”

      “I’ve heard.”

      She toyed with the sugar packets, piling them in a neat stack, knocking it down, then building again. “Then what’s the point? We can see the water from your front yard. Lovely view, by the way. Oceanfront on a policeman’s salary? Hard to imagine.”

      “There was a time when people could afford to live here. I bought then. Before the overbuilding and before everyone from…Where are you from?”

      “Seattle.”

      “Everyone from Seattle barged in, acted like they were the first to discover the beach and ocean, and started building street after street of overpriced houses.”

      She photographed the outdoors for a living. She understood the swell of anger and frustration when people took nature for granted or acted as if they owned it rather than borrowed it as a caretaker. “Bitter much?”

      “Just honest.”

      “We don’t need to drive around the island looking for beauty. It’s right at your doorstep.” She had had enough trouble lately. Tracking down more was not on her agenda.

      He watched her fingers, his stare following the placement of every pink packet. “Yeah, but this way if you continue to lie, I can always open the truck door and throw you back in the water.”

      He acted as if he meant it. “You don’t have to sound so damn happy at the thought. Where are we now anyway? I mean, I know we’re on Kauai, but where exactly?”

      He leaned back against the sink with his ankles crossed in front of him. “Your new temporary home is in Kapaa.”

      “Home? You keep thinking I plan to stay the night and hang out with you tomorrow.” She did, but that wasn’t really the point.

      “That’s not up for debate. The only question is where. You can sleep on the front porch. The trade winds are cool this time of year, and the waves tend to be loud, but you should be fine if you curl up under the deck chair.”

      She refused to dignify that comment by responding. “How many bedrooms do you have?”

      “Two. One for me. One for Derek.”

      She should have been happier to hear that news. “Problem solved, then.”

      “You can’t have Derek’s room.”

СКАЧАТЬ