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  “She’s too young for you.”

  “I wouldn’t sleep with her.”

  “Why not?”

  Pruitt smiled. “She’s not you, Rayne.”

  Rayne grinned back at him. “You keep talking like that and I’ll start thinking you really love me.”

  “Good, because it’s true.”

  The curtains parted, the music began, but Rayne kept her eyes on Pruitt.

  Christopher had told Velma that he’d be working late in the office, and he had worked late, but he also had a call to make in private.

  When Lauren answered, he thought she sounded weary.

  “Were you asleep already?”

  “No.”

  “I’m still at the office.”

  “I know.”

  “How do you know where I am?”

  “Because if you called me from home Velma might overhear our conversation.”

  “We’re just talking, Lauren.”

  “Then why does it feel so wrong? I can’t keep doing this.”

  “It’s not wrong for us to be friends.”

  “Is that all you want from me, Chris, friendship?”

  “No.”

  “I won’t be with you if you’re still with Velma. I don’t behave that way.”

  “I’m going to have a talk with Velma soon.”

  “Don’t bother, Chris. I shouldn’t have been talking to you like this in the first place.”

  “Why are you mad at me?”

  “I’m not. I’m angry at myself for letting this go on for months. There’s something else too, I’m leaving Caliber.”

  “What? Why, because of me?”

  “I need to get away before I do something I’ll regret.”

  “Don’t quit. I’ll talk to Velma tonight.”

  “It’s too late. I’ve already told your mother that I’ll be leaving in two weeks.”

  “No, Lauren, you can’t just leave like this.”

  “I can, and I will. Don’t call me again… goodbye.”

  The call ended, and Christopher hung his head in despair.

  Velma’s heart beat faster when she entered the bar and saw Sammy Sloan dressed in a suit. It was better than his usual attire of jeans and a leather jacket, but he still wore no tie.

  “I see the beard is back to its former glory,” Velma said.

  “Not quite, but it’ll keep growing in,” Sammy said.

  After settling in a booth and ordering drinks, Velma fidgeted and seemed to have trouble deciding where to set her purse. After finally leaving it atop the table she gave Sammy a nervous smile.

  “I shouldn’t be here.”

  “Maybe not, but I’m glad you came.”

  “This is just drinks with an old friend, I hope you won’t read anything more into it.”

  “This is more than just sharing a drink, Velma. I asked you here to say goodbye. I’m headed back to Vegas.”

  When the drinks arrived, Velma lifted her martini glass and began gulping down vodka.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Rayne laughed at another one of Pruitt’s stupid jokes as he escorted her to the door of her apartment. She had asked him to walk with her, so they could discuss the case a new client gave them that afternoon. They never mentioned the case, but instead talked about their evening.

  Once they reached her door, Rayne leaned back against it and glared at Pruitt.

  “I bet I know where you’re going after you leave me.”

  “You do?”

  “You’re going back to that club to see that waitress. I hope you’ve had all your shots.”

  “Wrong. I’m going home to bed.”

  “I have a bed here,” Rayne said, as she stretched up to kiss Pruitt.

  Rayne’s bed might be comfortable, but she and Pruitt never made it past the living room sofa, where they spent the night spooned together.

  “You’re reviving the Sam Sloan Agency?”

  Sammy smiled at the surprise in Velma’s tone.

  “I know I didn’t make a go of it after my brother died, but my heart wasn’t in it then. Besides, I’ve built my own rep back in Las Vegas. I think I can make a go of it.”

  “I thought the building was going to be sold to pay the debts?”

  “It never sold, so I can start the office up right where my old man had it since the sixties. As for the debts, I’ve worked out new deals with everyone. Two of them even forgave their loans, being a hero has its perks.”

  “I still say you were foolish to go up against those bank robbers by yourself.”

  “Maybe so, but it worked out fine. The bank gave me a reward, plus one of those guys had a bounty on his head. I still have business debts to pay back, but I think I’ll make a go of it.”

  “Are you returning to Las Vegas to get me out of your system?”

  “Yeah, Velma. I’ve been here for months and you and Christopher are still together. I won’t stay and keep making a fool out of myself.”

  “You’re not a fool, not if you really love me the way you say you do.”

  “Of course, I love you, Velma. I’ve loved you for years.”

  Velma looked down at the table.

  “I don’t know what to say. I love you, Sammy, but I love Christopher too.”

  “You don’t have to say anything, and I won’t be back to bother you again.” Sammy stood. “C’mon, girl, let’s get you in a cab headed for home before Christopher misses you.”

  They walked out to the curb and Sammy hailed a taxi. After opening the door for Velma, he kissed her on the cheek.

  “Goodbye, Velma.”

  Velma opened her mouth to speak, then became too choked-up to say a word, as tears sprang from her eyes. After issuing a sob, she climbed into the taxi and told the cabbie to just start driving.

  Sammy watched the cab disappear into the distance and wondered what it was that had just happened.

  Artie Kelp wheezed as he made it up the final flight of stairs that led to his apartment. He was planning to call in sick to work the next day, and he might even quit his job. Ten grand wasn’t a fortune, but it could become one if handled right at a craps table. Artie was sure his luck had changed. He was going to ride the wave of good fortune to a new life.

  All his life people had called him stupid. Could a stupid man have fooled Rosa into leaving the office so that he could steal the keys and the code? He had made ten thousand dollars for a bit of daring and a few minutes work. Not bad, and certainly not stupid.

  Artie became puzzled when he found that his door was already unlocked. He supposed he must have forgotten to lock it. He’d been so excited about meeting Ian and Robby to collect the rest of the money that he had rushed out of the apartment. He was lucky he had even bothered to close the door, much less lock it.

  As he entered the apartment and clicked on the lights, Artie thought about Ian and Robby. They were a bit strange, but Artie liked them. He hoped they didn’t get into trouble doing whatever they were doing. Artie also hoped they didn’t hurt anyone.

  That hope was shattered the same instant as Artie’s skull.

  Ian, who had been hidden behind the door, slammed a metal pipe into the back of Artie’s head.

  The short man collapsed to the floor as if he had no bones and Ian began going through his pockets.

  Robby walked out of the bedroom. “You got the envelope?”

  “Yeah,” Ian said as he held it up.

  “What about the five-hundred we gave him the other day?”

  Ian made a sour face as he checked the wallet and found a wad of lottery tickets. The lottery was for suckers as far as Ian was concerned. Along with the tickets were a few folded bills. Ian tossed the tickets on a coffee table and counted the money.

  “There’s only about three-hundred here.”

  “It figures he’d spend some of it. I ransacked the bedroom already, let’s give this room a quick shakedown and then get out of here.”

  The brothers were ready to leave moments later. As he stoo
d in the doorway, Robby looked back at Artie’s body.

  “What a stupid bastard he was.”

  “Stupid, but useful,” Ian said. As he was closing the door the sound of footsteps on the stairs reached his ears. Ian gestured for Robby to be quiet, then moved toward the narrow staircase that led up to the roof. They went up just far enough to be hidden among shadows and watched as a bald man and a middle-age woman appeared on the landing. The woman was plump, but she walked up the stairs with ease.

  The two were arguing, but not loudly, still, Ian and Robby were close enough to hear the conversation.

  “He’s always late with the rent because he’s a hard-luck gambler,” the woman said.

  “You gamble too,” the man said. He had a port-wine birthmark that surrounded his left eye.

  “I play bingo once in a while. You’re the one who wastes money on lottery tickets. Get the rent, Carlos. You’ve been letting this man walk all over you.”

  “Artie’s a nice guy, so I give him a break sometimes. Is that so wrong?”

  “If we don’t run this building like a business the owner will find someone else to do it. That would be very wrong.”

  “You’re right,” the man said. He kissed his wife on the cheek, then walked over to knock on Artie’s door.

  “Artie? It’s the super, Mr. Ramirez.”

  When no answer came, Ramirez knocked again.

  “I know you’re in there, Artie. My wife saw you enter the building. You said you’d have the rent money today, so stop playing games and open the door.”

  When he was again greeted by silence, Ramirez tried the doorknob. Once the door was open, he spotted Artie’s body and went over to look down at him. His wife followed him inside, then gasped when she saw Artie. She rushed back to the staircase and called for her husband.

  “Carlos, get out of there. We have to call the police.”

  Ramirez had been mesmerized by the dent in Artie’s skull. He shook free of his trance, then noticed the lottery tickets lying on the coffee table. On impulse, Ramirez scooped up the tickets and shoved them into a side pocket.

  Ian and Robby waited until Mr. and Mrs. Ramirez were two floors below them before heading farther up the staircase, which led to the roof. It took three hard kicks to splinter the wood surrounding the door lock, then the two brothers were on the roof.

  The metal fire escape was old, but sturdy, and they were back on the street as the sound of a siren whined in the distance.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Trace Pruitt woke to the sound of curtains being slid aside. When he opened his eyes, he was blinded by bright sunlight streaming in through tall windows.

  Rayne looked as if she had been awake for a while. She was already groomed and dressed.

  “There’s coffee in the kitchen, Pruitt. Get yourself together and then get on the move. We have a case to work today, remember?”

  Pruitt sat up on the sofa, slid into his boxers, then walked over to Rayne to hug her. She pushed him away.

  “Don’t get any ideas. Last night was a one-time thing.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “I think we both had a little too much to drink and got carried away.”

  Pruitt slumped atop a stool beside Rayne’s kitchen counter.

  “It’s Chris Caliber, isn’t it? You’re still hoping he’ll come back to you.”

  Rayne gathered up Pruitt’s clothes and handed them to him.

  “Get dressed, then go home and clean up. I want to see you in the office before nine.”

  Pruitt grabbed Rayne by the wrist and pulled her close.

  “If you think last night was a mistake you’re wrong. You have feelings for me, Rayne. Admit it.”

  Rayne shook loose, grabbed up her purse and keys from where they sat on a table, then opened her apartment door.

  “Lock up when you leave. I’ll see you at the office.”

  Pruitt was frowning as he watched her go, however, he broke into a broad grin as he remembered their night together.

  Later that day, in the same building that housed The Pruitt/Carver Detective Agency, Ian and Robby Mercer were breaking into an unoccupied office on the third floor. They each carried large equipment bags. Within Ian’s bag were two AR-15 rifles.

  After setting up a telescope, along with folding chairs, they began taking turns recording who went in and out of the Caliber building. They were planning to make their move after hours, but Ian wanted to be certain they knew who remained in the building at day’s end.

  Their target was a woman named Kate Jordan. Jordan, an ex-cop from Philadelphia, had been hired by Gail Caliber as an insurance investigator. Initially, she would be acting as a replacement for Maggie Keegan.

  Maggie and the old man, Jake Caliber the third were to leave on a world cruise soon. The trip had been delayed when the ship they were scheduled to leave on needed extensive repairs. The cruise ship had suffered damage while docked during a sudden violent storm.

  It turned out to be fortunate for the old man and Maggie. Otherwise, they would have been away when the newest Caliber entered the world. As things stood, the old man would be in New York City during the time his great-grandson would be born.

  If Kate Jordan worked out during Maggie’s absence she would be retained with Caliber Investigations. Maggie, who was sixty-one, planned to retire in several years, while Kate Jordan was only forty-three.

  While still a cop, Kate had infiltrated the Philly mob as a drug courier in order to learn the hierarchy of the men who ran their drug distribution.

  One of those men was an enforcer named Will Mercer, who was the father of Ian and Robby Mercer. After Mercer gunned down two Armenian thugs robbing a drug depot, Kate Jordan broke her cover and ordered Mercer to drop his weapon. Instead, Will Mercer traded shots with Jordan. Kate took a bullet to her right leg while wounding Mercer twice in the chest.

  Will Mercer died while on the way to the hospital. A year later, after giving testimony that resulted in over a half dozen convictions of organized crime figures, Kate Jordan retired from the Philadelphia Police Department.

  The stress of her job and the notoriety of her heroic actions contributed to her divorce from a fellow cop who resented her success. With her marriage dissolved, Kate decided she needed a change and moved to New York City.

  Despite her lack of experience in conducting insurance investigations, Gail Caliber hired Kate from a field of twenty-six candidates. It was a wise move. In her first four months on the job, Kate had proven to have an intuitive sense when it came to sniffing out insurance fraud, and she and Maggie worked well together.

  The sons of Will Mercer, Ian and Robby, harbored a deep hatred for Kate. Although as ruthless as his father, Ian was wiser. He kept tabs on Kate Jordan while also keeping his brother’s impatience in check. When he learned that she had left the police force and moved to New York City he began planning for revenge.

  Airtight alibis were in place back in Philadelphia that would place reasonable doubt in the mind of any juror. Neither Ian or his brother had ever threatened Kate publicly and they hadn’t been arrested as adults. That they would be suspected of her murder was never in doubt, but Ian knew that he and Robby were strong enough to weather any investigation or interrogation. They would kill Kate Jordan and return to Philadelphia as soon as possible. They would avenge their father’s death.

  Elsewhere in the building, Sammy Sloan waited for an elevator outside the offices of the Carver/Pruitt Detective Agency. When the doors slid open, Sammy was pleased to see a familiar face. It was Lauren Wright from the Caliber Agency. Lauren was an exotic beauty with caramel-colored skin and blue eyes. Those eyes widened in surprise as she spotted Sammy.

  “Hello, Lauren. What brings you over here?”

  “I’ve come to see Rayne. She offered me a job a while back and I was wondering if the offer was still good.”

  “Rayne hired a receptionist months ago and the gal is working out, but it never hurts to ask. I’ll tell her you dr
opped by when she gets back later.”

  Lauren said nothing as she stared at Sammy.

  “Something wrong?” Sammy asked.

  Lauren let out a laugh. “I’m sorry for staring, but ever since I saw you without the beard I can’t get over how much different you look with one.”

  “I think the phrase is ‘ruggedly handsome.’”

  “I won’t argue,” Lauren said with a smile.

  They stepped on the elevator and Sammy hit the button for the lobby.

  “I take it you’re unhappy over at Caliber?”

  “It’s, um, let’s just say I need to make a change.”

  “A big change or a little change? Because if you’re looking for something life-changing I might be able to help you out there.”

  “How’s that?”

  “It’s lunchtime. Have you eaten?”

  “No.”

  “Come eat with me and I’ll explain what I mean.”

  “Okay, but not at the deli. I might run into someone from Caliber there.”

  “You choose the place, Lauren, and I’ll pick up the check.”

  “In that case, we’ll take my car.”

  “It’s a deal, darlin’” Sammy said.

  Christopher was meeting with Jake at a restaurant, which was located halfway between Jake’s apartment and the law firm where Chris worked. After placing their orders at the counter, the two had taken seats near a window.

  Jake was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. Blue paint marred his sleeve. It had gotten there while he was painting his son’s nursery.

  “Are you nervous about becoming a father?” Chris asked.

  “A little, but Kelli is as calm as can be. She’s with her mother today. They’re out buying baby clothes.”