Too Hot to Handle. Nancy Warren

she have to die for her crime?

      “Who else could it be? You and I were there when the goons started to break in. There was no one else in the studio or your apartment.”

      She shook her head. “No.”

      “So they threw in an already dead woman, torched the place. Days will go by before anyone realizes it’s not you in there.”

      “Why? If what you say is true, why didn’t Grayson stick to the plan? He’d have got his emeralds back and no one would ever have known she took them.”

      “That, Lexy, is something I’m planning to figure out.”

      He was looking at her with an intensity she didn’t like. As though there were more bad news on the way.

      “What?”

      “My guess is that Tiffany Starr wasn’t the only one who was supposed to die last night.”

      An unpleasant queasiness rolled through her. “You mean … ?”

      “You’d seen and handled the gems and I’d been hired to retrieve them. As I said, no one has set eyes on them since the early part of this century. I pegged Grayson as one of those fanatics who want to keep all their toys to themselves.”

      “Like a spoiled kid?”

      “A spoiled kid with his own private staff of thugs and killers.”

      She sank her head into her hands. “I should have listened to my mom. I should have gone into nursing. Or teaching. Something uncomplicated, with a pension.”

      “Somehow I can’t see you in an ordinary profession.”

      She groaned. “I know. It’s my curse.”

      “Finish your eggs. It’s always been my belief that you can’t commit a crime on an empty stomach, and I’m almost positive you can’t solve one, either.”

      She toyed with an orange slice but in truth she’d lost her appetite. As she played his words back, she dropped the orange. “Wait a minute. You said your chauffeur went into the meeting with Grayson instead of you. They think he is you. He’s the one who’s going to get killed.”

      “Don’t worry about Healey. He can take care of himself.”

      She didn’t know why she should be concerned about a man who’d aided and abetted her kidnapping, but then she was the sort of person who bought non-kill rodent traps and had, on occasion, transported a very angry rat to a new home.

      Amanda had been horrified and flat-out refused even to open the door so she and the rat could get outside. Her breath caught in her chest. “Oh, my God. Amanda. She saw the women. I even showed her the emeralds.” She jumped to her feet, her heart hammering painfully. “I have to warn Amanda.” She ran past Pendegraff, headed for the door of the house. If the Jeep was still sitting there, she could get to a town, somehow she’d find a way back to New York.

      She was out of the front door. Good, the Jeep was still there. Keys inside would be nice, but if not she knew how to hot-wire a car. Her dad had taught her a lot of useful skills over the years.

      The gravel bit into her socks and the sun blasted her eyeballs but she barely noticed. Amanda was her employee, a friend, her responsibility. She had to warn her.

      The Jeep was parked, a gray shape against the snow. She sprinted blindly toward it, was almost there when a strong hand grabbed her arm, almost pulling it out of its socket.

      “Ow. Let me go.”

      “Lexy. Stop.”

      She turned to him, and in turning found herself bashing hard abs, a chest that felt like granite, looking up into a face that was surprisingly understanding. “I have to go. You’ve got to let me. Amanda trusts me. She’s my employee, my responsibility.” She panted, trying to get the words out and pull away from his grip at the same time.

      “I know. It’s okay. Healey’s watching things.”

      “Healey? The guy who helped you drug and kidnap me? Pardon me if I don’t feel superconfident in his abilities to guard my friend.”

      “Healey’s the most capable person I know. It’s why I hired him.”

      “Those men are killers. You said so yourself. Killer trumps thief. You know? Like Rock, Paper, Scissors? Killer would trump them all. Crush rock, shred paper, smash scissors. This isn’t a game. You’ve got to let me get back.”