the policeman agreed, turning intensely serious eyes on Brittany. “This kind of vandalism happens all the time. It’s June. School just let out. Kids with too much time and too little to do wind up pulling stunts like this for kicks. Just last week, two streets over, we had the same kind of thing—only red paint that time.”
“So what are the police doing about it?” Lori demanded, fear now shifting into outrage. “Can’t you catch the punks who are ruining the subdivision before they strike again?”
“You’re just one of many on my watch. The kids will slip up, and we’ll catch ‘em, but in the meantime, keep your eyes open for any suspicious activity. Might want to get a dog. A barking dog does a good job of scaring prowlers off.”
“A dog?” Lori rolled her eyes and pressed a finger to the company name embroidered on her blouse. “As you can see, I’m employed by Globus-Americas. I travel all the time. No way can I take on the responsibility of a dog.”
“Well, then, a more effective alarm system might help,” the detective suggested, handing Lori the police report to sign.
With a sigh, Lori signed the paper, took her copy and then escorted the officer out. As she watched him drive away, she felt discouraged and very uneasy. “I doubt the police will ever catch the punks who wrecked my house,” she said to Brittany as they turned and walked up the driveway.
“He sure was fine,” Brittany murmured, ignoring Lori’s comment.
“Fine?” Lori’s head whipped around. “What are you talking about?”
“Detective Washington. Big feet, long legs. A killer smile. Umm, he’s got it all going on.”
Lori punched Brittany on the shoulder. “Get outta here! You’re checking out the brother when we need to be pushing him to do his job? Brittany Adams, you need to quit.”
“Hey, my radar is always on, and he was one good-looking black dot on my screen. He’s obviously well employed and wasn’t wearing any rings.”
“Girl, please,” Lori sighed in frustration. “The last time you got involved with a policeman, you wound up chasing the guy out of your house with a pot of hot coffee in one hand and a kitchen knife in the other.”
“Nat Chavis was FBI, not local,” Brittany defended. “And it was a mug of hot coffee, not a pot.”
“Whatever,” Lori quipped. “All I remember is that he treated you like a suspect and you snapped when you found out he’d bugged your cell phone.”
“Nat was a fool…he underestimated my intelligence,” Brittany said calmly, chin raised. “But this Detective Washington, now, he looks like a man with good sense.”
Lori paused at her front door and pinned her neighbor with a warning expression. “Let’s just hope he uses his good sense to get the fools who trashed my house.”
Brittany came up beside Lori, nodding. “But…as the handsome, intelligent, hopefully single detective said, one police car can’t be everywhere all the time. If thieves and vandals want to get in, they’ll find a way.”
“Yeah.” Lori grimaced in agreement. “I get the impression that we’re kinda on our own.”
Brittany grunted. “Well, I’m not gonna put bars on my windows and doors to keep some punk-ass kids from spray painting my living room, and I refuse like hell to buy a gun. Just my luck I’d wind up shooting the mail carrier in the ass.”
“Unfortunately, it all comes down to making it hard for someone to get in,” Lori observed, her mind turning back to what the officer had said. What you need is a better alarm system.
“Brit, I gotta go,” Lori quipped, giving her neighbor a quick wave goodbye.
“Need any help cleaning up?”
“Naw. I’ll sweep up the glass, but I’ll have to leave everything else until the crime scene investigators are finished. I’ll be over later. Save me some ribs.”
Inside her house, Lori reached into her skirt pocket, removed Ramón’s business card and stared at it, her heart lurching in her chest at the thought of hearing his voice and seeing him again. She picked up the phone, pressed in two numbers, but then stopped.
“I’ll call first thing in the morning,” she decided, not yet ready to trust her voice. Not ready to betray her feelings for a man who was quickly winding his way into her heart.
Chapter Six
Ramón slid the bacon and spinach omelet he’d just made onto a plate and sat down at the breakfast table in his condo. It was only seven-thirty in the morning, but he had already completed his daily three-mile run, showered and was looking forward to breakfast. Ramón wasn’t much of a cook, but he could put together a hell of an omelet. Since he watched his diet carefully, he ate a light lunch and dinner was most often a steak and fresh vegetables at the Big Tex Steak House two blocks from his house.
With a flick of his thumb, he scrolled through messages on his cell phone while eating, replying to those that required a response, deleting a bunch of spam. The three days he’d spent in Acapulco with his brother had put him behind schedule, but now that he was back in Houston, it was time to get on track and back to work.
After he finished reading and responding to his e-mails he shifted his focus to the workday ahead. He had two commercial estimates to prepare, a whole-house installation to inspect and equipment to pick up at the electrical supply house. But before he did any of that he wanted to drop by the assisted living center and say hello to his dad.
While plotting his day, his cell phone rang and he quickly recognized Lori’s name and number.
“Vida-Shield Security,” he said, using his business greeting and tamping down his excitement over the fact that she was calling.
“Ramón Vidal, please,” Lori said.
“This is Ramón.”
“Oh, great. This is Lori Myles…from the airplane. Remember me?”
“Of course. How could I forget?” Ramón responded, intentionally lowering his voice in an attempt to sound relaxed and calm. “Glad you called. Wasn’t sure you would.”
“Well, before you get too excited…I have to tell you, this is not a social call. I need your help.”
Ramón squinted at the sliding-glass door leading onto his patio, where hanging baskets of ivy and ferns created a lush, quiet retreat. He considered her remark and decided that it was better to be needed than ignored. At least she’d turned to him. “Okay…shoot. What can I do for you?” he offered as casually as possible, thrilled that she wanted his input on whatever was on her mind.
“I’m not sure where to start. I’m still so angry I can hardly talk about what happened.”
Ramón’s initial pleasure at hearing from Lori quickly shifted to alarm. She sounded so intense. So frightened. And so different from when they’d chatted on the plane. Something terrible must have happened. “What’s going on?” he asked, listening as she described the scene that greeted her when she arrived home. He got up from the table and began to pace his kitchen,
