Rocky Mountain Valor. Jennifer D. Bokal

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СКАЧАТЬ and stirred her tea. The silver spoon hit the side of the china cup, filling the room with a tinny chime. “I guess what really bothers me is that I feel like a ticking time bomb. I’m worried that I’m actually dangerous to everyone—my clients, my friends, my family.”

      Ian reached for her wrist, stilling her hand. “I’ll be honest, I have a hard time picturing you being violent—even if your job was at stake and you were frustrated.”

      Petra kept her eyes on the counter. “I’m not so sure I agree with you.”

      “Here’s the way I see it. Joe Owens is a big bloke—you’re easily half his size. He’s strong and not likely to let you stab him without a fight. Where are your wounds? Why aren’t you bruised from head to toe?”

      “But what if I surprised him?”

      “What? While stumbling through his house, blind with a migraine? It’s not in your nature to attack someone for no reason.”

      “I had a reason,” she insisted. “My boss threatened to fire me because of Joe.”

      “Granted, you’re driven—but a life for a job? It hardly seems like an equal trade.”

      She pressed her lips together. “I wasn’t exactly in control. There’s no telling what I might have done and no way to gauge my actual strength in that fugue state.”

      A tremor ran down his spine. Petra’s honest nature might well be her undoing.

      “You didn’t point any of this out to the police, did you?” Ian continued with a warning, “Remember those Miranda rights. Anything you say is likely to be used against you.”

      “Are you telling me to lie?” she asked.

      “I’m telling you not to make it too easy.”

      “Understood,” she said with a nod.

      Petra’s situation was like a puzzle box, with only one way to solve it, and thousands of ways to be wrong. His mind began to work and he lighted on a rather simple fact. “You never saw or spoke to Joe after you arrived, correct? He could’ve been attacked and then left for dead.”

      “But if I didn’t attack Joe, who did?” she asked.

      “Who else might want him dead?”

      She shook her head. “I can’t think of anyone. Everyone loved Joe Owens. He was a hometown hero. Championship MVP.”

      “Obviously, someone didn’t.”

      Petra took a sip of her tea. A bead of tea collected on her lip. She licked it away.

      God help him, an image of his lips on hers, his mouth claiming her, their tongues intertwined, came to Ian and left him wanting more than a memory.

      He picked up his own tea and gulped down a swallow. The liquid scalded him. Then again, he’d been burned by her before. Passion and pain were opposite sides of the same coin, and in that regard, with Petra, he’d been a wealthy man.

      “You said you were on the radio talking about Joe and his most recent scandal...” He let his words trail off so that Petra could fill in the facts.

      “He threw a punch at a reporter for asking an embarrassing question at yesterday’s press conference. Last week he yelled at a waitress and his tirade ended up on the internet. Then the week before, he was arrested for disturbing the peace at a nightclub.”

      “Was the reporter seriously hurt? Any reason to want vengeance?”

      Petra shook her head. “Joe only got in a punch or two before being dragged out of the room. The incident made the reporter famous. He was contacted by a cable sports channel and called our agency for representation. The waitress was given twenty-thousand dollars by the team and she enrolled in college. No one wants to get even.”

      “And the police wouldn’t try to kill someone who got rowdy at a club.”

      “Doubtful,” Petra agreed.

      “There has to be something else. Nobody is completely beloved. What about his personal life?”

      “Joe’s wife moved out of their house at the beginning of the summer and took their daughters with her,” she said, leaning back in her seat, her hands wrapped around the cup of tea. “There were rumors that she was having an affair, but he was fighting any divorce proceedings.”

      “She wouldn’t be the first woman to want an estranged husband dead so she could be with her lover.”

      “It’s more than that,” said Petra. “Joe’s wife, Larissa, was supposedly seeing Arnie Hatch, the team’s owner.”

      “Is there any truth to the stories?”

      Petra nodded absently. “It’s one of the worst kept secrets in Denver’s sports scene.”

      “Then I say we have two suspects—Arnie Hatch and Larissa Owens.”

      “We? Does that mean I can hire you?”

      “Like I said—RMJ is closed.”

      What Ian said was true, but that was only in a technical sense. He was still in business, still able to take cases. And while he wanted to help Petra, he needed to find Mateev. Making the mistake of listening to his conscience, he added, “It doesn’t mean I can’t look into the case a little bit tonight. If I find anything interesting, I’ll let you know. You can turn it over to your lawyer.”

      Petra gave a long exhalation, slumping in her seat. “You don’t know how relieved I am. So, what do we do now?” she asked.

      “You are going to finish your tea and then you can sleep in the guest room. I’ll do some research on Hatch.”

      Petra took another drink and pushed her cup to the center of the island. “Thanks for everything, Ian. You’re a lifesaver and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

      He picked up both cups and turned to the sink. He ran water from the tap, scrubbing away the residue. Glancing at the window, he watched Petra in the reflection. “There are some of your things in the dresser upstairs.” She looked up, meeting his gaze. He dropped his eyes to the faucet and turned off the water. “You left them and I never got around to returning them or putting them out with the rubbish.”

      “Lucky me.”

      “Always a little sarcastic. I still don’t know what to make of you.”

      She rounded the island and stood behind him, her breath warming his back. He turned. Petra was close—so close that he could touch her if he just reached out. And if he did, what would she do?

      “I truly am lucky,” she said. Her voice was sultry, like a night too hot and humid for sleep. “Because you’re right. I am in a mess, and before I showed up here, I worried that I was guilty. And now there’s some hope that I’m not.”

      “You’re welcome, then,” he said, before adding, “I know our relationship didn’t end well, but I’m glad you came to me. I’m happy to help, even if it’s СКАЧАТЬ