Be My Valentino. Sandra D. Bricker
van until it creaked open. “You scared the living breath out of me.”
“I’m sorry. I thought maybe you’d like some coffee,” she said, lifting a travel mug with a ribbon of steam emerging from the opening on top of it.
“Thank you.”
He reached across the seat to take it from her, but she slipped into the van instead and yanked the door shut behind her before handing him the cup.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she told him, her eyes trained on the deserted, dimly lit street. “My mind is just racing with . . . all sorts of thoughts.”
Danny inched over to the edge of the driver’s seat and angled toward her. The instant he stretched out his arms, she did the same on the passenger seat and fell into his embrace.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered.
“Not going anywhere,” he returned, and he planted a kiss on the top of her head as he held her.
“Danny, can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
“Do you think Jack is . . .”
He waited, but she didn’t complete the thought. “Do I think he’s what?”
Her voice was raspy and emotional as she finally said, “Dangerous?”
Where had that come from? He’d scammed clients, jilted Jessie, absconded with every cent they’d had, but dangerous?
“Why do you ask that?” he inquired, nudging her away slightly so he could get a good look into those crystal blue eyes of hers. “Has he ever hurt you?”
“No,” she answered then shrugged. “Not physically.”
“What makes you worry about your safety?” He twisted a lock of hair near her face around his finger and moved it back.
“I guess I just realized everything I thought I knew about us—Jack and me—was a lie. It wasn’t real. So how do I really know what kind of man he’s become?”
“I can tell you this,” Danny reassured her. “You know what kind of man I am. Would I ever let him hurt you again?”
Her smile appeared edged with timid confidence. “No.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of all of this,” he promised. “And you’re going to be free of Jack Stanton sooner rather than later.”
She wriggled toward him and planted her head underneath his chin with a sigh. “When you say it, I almost believe you. You’re good at that.”
“Yes, I am,” he teased.
After a few minutes of comforting silence, Jessie tilted her head upward and stared into his eyes.
“What?” he asked, and she smiled.
“You know what else you’re good at?”
“So many things,” he replied.
“Yes. But would you kiss me? I feel safe when you kiss me.”
Without another random word, Danny leaned down and placed his lips on Jessie’s. A muffled sigh came from deep within her throat, and he raked his fingers through the silky hair at the side of her head. When their lips parted, she snuggled beneath his chin again and softly moaned.
“Thank you, Danny.”
“For?”
“All of it. Every bit of being you. Thank you.”
He chuckled. “Glad I could be me for you.”
“Me too,” she said, sincerity apparent in the expression. “I’ve never had a Danny Callahan in my corner before. It’s startling . . .and a relief, really.”
“Yeah. I get that all the time.”
The two of them sat there together in Riggs’s questionable-smelling van for an hour or so as Danny sipped his coffee and Jessie talked through the details of the blog post she’d just completed. He didn’t have a clue what it all meant in the great scheme of the world of fashion, of course, but she seemed adequately distracted by it, and that was all he really cared about.
“Do you want me to walk you to the door?” he asked her.
“No. I thought I’d dazzle you by making the journey all by myself. Want to watch me?”
“Sure. Make it entertaining for me?”
“Sure thing,” she chirped, and she quickly pecked his lips before pushing out of the van.
At the edge of the sidewalk, Jessie raised her arms to an imaginary partner and gave him a comical glance before she waltzed up the middle of the driveway toward her apartment door. Danny’s laughter followed her, and he watched closely until he felt certain she was tucked safely inside.
Two very round headlights appeared at the corner a short time later, and the sedan-shaped car moved slowly up the street toward him. When it passed the apartment building without altering speed, Danny leaned down and watched the car’s retreat in his side mirror before dialing Rafe on his cell.
“Hey, Detective,” he said when Padillo answered, the familiar hum of the precinct behind him.
“Hey, Callahan, where you at?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“What’s up?”
“Jessie Stanton’s husband—I mean, Jessie Hart’s husband—is back in town,” Danny advised. “Anything you can do to help us hurry along a restraining order?”
“I thought he was living high in Costa Rica.”
“Bali. It’s a long story, but he’s back in the States, modeling some ankle armor courtesy of Uncle Sam.”
“But you’re still worried he’ll try to make contact?” Rafe asked.
“He already has. Walked right into a public restaurant and tried to have a chat with her. Fortunately, we were able to dissuade him, but only for the time being. Can you help lead the way toward an order of protection?”
“Text me his details and I’ll make a call. Hang in there, and I’ll try to get back to you tonight.”
“Good deal. Thanks, Rafe.”
Danny keyed in the vitals the second they ended the call.
John Fitzgerald Stanton. Driving late model green hybrid Accord. Picked up by feds for fraud, embezzlement, possible bigamy. Ankle bracelet while pending prosecution.
An odd-shaped car turned the corner and cruised up the street. It bore no resemblance to the Accord he’d seen Stanton drive away earlier in the evening, so Danny barely gave it a glance. He bent down and retrieved the tablet Jessie had picked up and stowed under the dash. Just as he started to take a second stab at reading, another set of headlights rounded the corner of Pinafore Street. The form could possibly be an Accord, but he couldn’t be sure. He tossed the tablet to the passenger seat and slouched down anyway.
The car swerved into the driveway to Jessie’s apartment building and cut the lights before the engine. Danny’s pulse went from a soft drum to urgent pounding as the dark shape of a man emerged from what could definitely be an Accord. Tall . . . broad-shouldered.
Yep. That’s Stanton.
Danny pushed open the door and it cracked, metal against metal, drawing the attention of the unwelcome visitor. As he turned toward the sound, Jack stepped into the yellowish bath of light from the street lamp. Danny closed the distance between them and stood face-to-face with Jack Stanton for the second time that day.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to speak to Jessie.”
“I thought we covered this