Secret Weapon Spouse. B.J. Daniels
of it and shot back up. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
She glanced back at the champagne glasses and bottle. She would come back. It would be fairly easy given that there was no security system installed in the condo yet and she’d made a point of letting the security guard see her—not that she planned to get caught when she returned.
Looking up, she felt a jolt as she saw that Alex Graham was watching her, frowning slightly—almost as if he could see beneath her oversize suits, the glasses, the dyed hair to the woman she tried so hard to hide.
Chapter Four
Alex seemed lost in thought as they left the condo—making her even more convinced he was on to her.
As she slid behind the wheel of the pickup, he looked over at her, his eyes narrowing. His expression changed so quickly, he caught her off guard. “I’m starved. I know you haven’t had dinner because I’ve been dragging you all over Miami.” He smiled, bathing her in soft warmth.
Food was the last thing she’d have expected he would want right now. She looked away for a moment, trying to come up with a good excuse and regain her balance.
“I know this great little Mexican food place,” he was saying, his enthusiasm growing. “Lupita makes a chile verde that is to die for. Fresh homemade tortillas. And the best margaritas in Southern Florida. Tell me you like Mexican food,” he said starting the engine.
She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she avoided spicy food. It didn’t go with her wedding planner persona. But his enthusiasm was contagious. “Who doesn’t like Mexican food?” she said, smiling as she turned back to him.
He gave her one of his heart-stopping smiles. “You should do that more often,” he said, suddenly serious again.
“What?” She hadn’t realized she’d done anything.
“Smile. It looks good on you.”
She ducked her head, embarrassed by the way she felt when Alex Graham looked at her like that. It was as if he could see behind the facade. That he could see her. The real her. And if that was true, then she was in big trouble.
As he drove toward the café, she looked out her side window, trying to get her feet back under her. Alex Graham was like a whirlwind. He caught you up, taking you places you never expected to go, promising the wildest ride of your life. But she knew that eventually he’d let her down. Men always did. And the drop back to reality this time would be a killer.
Something caught her eye in her side mirror. She’d seen that car earlier when they’d left Weddings Your Way. One of the headlights had a different bulb in it giving the car the appearance of winking.
The car was staying back, changing lanes, even disappearing for short periods of time. Whoever was driving knew what he was doing.
As Alex pulled into the dark parking lot next to the café, Samantha saw the nondescript tan car drive past. She only got a glimpse of the man behind the wheel, his face in shadow.
“You all right?” Alex asked.
“Sorry, just daydreaming,” she said with a shrug.
He nodded, but she could tell that he’d seen her reaction when she’d realized they were being followed. He didn’t seem to miss much but he let it go as he insisted on opening her door as if they were on a date.
The café was small and quiet no doubt because it was late and a weekday night. Samantha excused herself to freshen up. In the empty ladies’ room, she used her cell phone to call Rachel.
In as few words as possible, Samantha filled her in.
Rachel let out a low whistle when Samantha finished. “You’re sure Preston was the man who shared the champagne with Caroline in her condo?”
“No. But I smelled his aftershave. He’d been in the condo recently. That doesn’t mean there isn’t another man.”
“What’s bothering you?” Rachel asked. “I hear it in your voice.”
Rachel knew her too well. Samantha glanced at her watch. She had to get back to Alex before he began to worry—and wonder. “The men’s clothing in the closet. It’s all wrong.” She explained that the shirts were an inferior brand, constructed of cheap fabric and worn at the cuffs. “They weren’t shirts a man like the one I met with Caroline would wear.”
“So there could be another man,” Rachel said.
A man at the opposite end of the financial spectrum. “There is the possibility that Preston Wellington III found out about the other man,” Samantha told her boss.
“Which you think could mean Caroline’s hit-and run was no accident,” Rachel said.
“It does make me wonder since Alex Graham and I seemed to have picked up a tail. I can’t help but wonder what someone is afraid we’re going to find out.”
VICTOR CONSTANTINE was used to taking orders. He wasn’t even that particular who was doing the ordering but he had to admit, he didn’t like his latest job any more than he liked the arrogant voice on the other end of the line.
He had two simple rules. He never knew who he was working for. He didn’t care. And his jobs came in by word of mouth, which meant he only did jobs for clients who’d been referred through other clients. The kind of people who had the kind of money required for his unique services.
It made his life easier that way. He received a call, waited for the money to appear electronically in a numbered account and then he did the job.
The more dangerous the job, the more money went into his account. Victor had an ironclad reputation for getting the job done, no matter how dirty. It had made him a rich man, a man on the verge of retiring at a very young age.
That’s why he was having trouble taking orders from his latest “client.” The guy was an arrogant bastard, Victor thought as he dialed the number he’d been given.
The man didn’t even say hello. “Where the hell are you? I told you to let me know what was going on.”
Victor was hot, tired and hungry and he didn’t like being talked to like this. “Why do you think I’m calling?” he snapped, silently reminding himself how much he was getting paid. His fees tended to triple when he didn’t like the job—or the client.
Victor glanced up the street. “After the hospital, he drove to Weddings Your Way, picked up a woman and drove to a seedy part of town.” He gave the client the address and heard the man let out an oath under his breath.
“The woman is still with him?”
Victor described her. “They’re in some dive of a Mexican café across the street eating dinner.”
“He took her out to eat?”
Yeah, exactly what Victor should have been doing right now instead of sitting down the street in the dark. “Apparently so. I’d like to have some dinner myself.”
“I don’t pay you to eat.”
“You don’t pay me enough to miss meals, either.”
Silence. “I’m sorry you missed your supper. But with what I pay you, I’m sure you can order in later.”
Victor smiled to himself. The man had no idea.
“Call me when they leave the restaurant and stay with them. Don’t let them out of your sight.” The line went dead.
Victor stared down at the phone for a moment, then thought, what the hell. He called information, got the number of the Mexican café and ordered himself the nightly special: a plate of seafood enchiladas, beans and rice.
“Do you want that delivered?” the female voice on the other end of the line inquired.
Victor smiled. “As a matter of fact I’m parked just