Lucky Catch by Deborah Coonts

Author:Deborah Coonts
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
Publisher: Cool Gus Publishing
Published: 2014-08-20T04:00:00+00:00

* * *

With the tags burning a hole in my pocket and Teddie’s presence scratching the scab off the hole in my heart, I drove more sedately on the way back to the hotel. Even though the temps were a bit chilly, I put the top down on the Ferrari, discouraging conversation. Fragments of thoughts flew across my synapses with dizzying speed facilitated by fatigue and fueled by worry. The liquid diet wasn’t making matters any better.

Solid food was next on my list. Right after getting rid of Teddie.

Teddie stared straight ahead, one hand holding tight to the armrest, his face pinched in thought. I’d ask him what he was thinking, but men hated that question . . . or so I’d been told, more than once. Besides, I’d lost faith in his veracity of late, so even if I asked, I wouldn’t learn anything I didn’t already know. Asking would just make me seem interested, which was a weakness Teddie would exploit.

Games. How I hated games. Heck, even in the game of Life, people felt compelled to cheat. Seemed to me to be not only self-defeating, but also a quick slide toward self-loathing.

While we had been away, the Strip had started to stir. Couples wandered the sidewalks hand-in-hand. Most of them older—the day was still way too new for the kids who generally partied until night thinned toward dawn, they’d still be sleeping. Vegas was a bit like school that way, the older kids started earlier, the youngsters finished out the day.

The queue of cars lined up for the valets warmed my heart. Business was good—I’d be employed for at least one more day.

But another day was another opportunity for a killer to kill again.

With the specter of death at my shoulder, I couldn’t hurry fast enough.

The valet jumped to take the car. I let him, levering myself out, then heading toward the lobby with Teddie behind. His blue-blood manners in place, he stepped around, pulling open the heavy glass door, and held it for me, then followed me inside. The energy level in the lobby hummed but had yet to reach full bore, which allowed me to throttle back and take my time to get up to speed.

Ignoring Teddie, I turned for the elevator as a man stepped into my path. “Ms. O’Toole?”

Tall, broad, fit, and fair, he had “cop” written all over him. I stopped and looked up into his impossibly green eyes, and out of nowhere a memory daggered my heart.

Dane had impossibly green eyes.

Dane, a friend gone missing. Well, not missing, exactly.

He’d sent me a note recently. It read simply GTT—gone to Texas. Home to heal his heart.

Another disappointment. Curiously, the fact that I was the only common denominator in these unsatisfying relationships wasn’t lost on me.

The man standing in front of me adopted a serious expression as he reached for his inside pocket, extracted a leather bifold, and flipped it open. I glanced at the badge. I’d been partially right—a cop, but not local, federal.

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