can get somebody else, Dad.”
“But, see, that’s it….” He swallowed hard, as if gathering courage. “See, Sal helped me out with a shortfall. If I do this, I’m covered.”
“More gambling?”
“An investment idea went south.”
Anger stabbed at her. Why was her father so vulnerable to something-for-nothing schemes? At least it hadn’t been illegal gambling. She fought to focus on the problem at hand.
“We have to talk to Enzo, Dad. He’ll stop Sal.”
“Absolutely not.” He lunged forward, his eyes wide. “If Enzo finds out, I don’t want to know what Sal might do, who he might hurt.”
Sal had threatened them? She couldn’t imagine. He didn’t seem violent, but she only saw him flirting at the bar. Her father looked petrified. Maybe someone above Sal was the danger.
“Then the police,” she said. “If Sal’s doing crime, he should be arrested.” What about Riley? Her heart leaped with hope. Riley would help her. He’d been so kind and generous.
“Not with my record.”
“It was a few days in county for drunk and disorderly. And in Chicago, they conned you as much as they did, those business owners, who were crooks, too.”
“It’s enough, trust me. Cops only care about the rules.”
“We’ll get an attorney to protect you.”
“With what money? No. Just let it ride for now. I told you I’ll handle it. I will.”
“This won’t just go away.” She lifted the bottle again. “And this makes things worse.”
“I know. I lost my strength. I had so much hope, see, and I wanted you to be proud. It was for your school. I wanted to surprise you on your birthday. Instead I screwed up again.” His eyes were red and desperate.
“Just don’t drink, Dad. That’s the gift I want from you. And use good sense. No quick deals, no easy money. Think before you jump. If it looks too good to be true, it is too good to be true.” She was babbling the same advice she always gave and he somehow failed to heed, but she had to do something with her frustration. “It’ll be all right, Dad. I know it will.”
First, she’d talk to Riley. Thank God she’d met him. He wasn’t a hard-ass like the highway patrolman who gave her a speeding ticket outside Blythe. That guy hadn’t cracked a smile when she’d asked if his day was going better than hers. He just lectured her like she was an idiot and slapped the ticket into her palm. Riley would be sympathetic.
Maybe all he had to do was put out the word and this could go away. It felt strange to ask for a favor from a man she’d only known naked, but when it came to family, you did what you had to do. That was something the old Chloe knew cold.
THE DOORBELL WOKE RILEY. Seven o’clock, according to his clock. Who could it be? He’d told Max and the squad he intended to sleep all weekend as a reward for solving the Sanchez case.
Climbing out of bed, he noticed gray light through the window and the drip of water. More spring rain. A good thing, since it had to hold them through the broiling Arizona summer. But hearing it made him want to curl under the covers for a morning snooze. With Chloe.
Too bad she hadn’t stayed. Not his typical response. He liked waking up alone and peaceful. But the sex hadn’t been typical and neither had the woman.
He’d have made her breakfast. Oatmeal anyway, but he’d have made it special. Didn’t he have a banana? Then some leisurely sack time, after which they could read the paper from the terrace, watch the quail boss their newborn chicks around, smell that great wet-desert smell. Someone had explained it was only creosote and dust, but to him it smelled healthy and pure and made him glad to be alive.
Idle clattered to the door as Riley stepped into jersey shorts and fished out a T-shirt.
The doorbell rang again and Idle barked. “Hang on,” Riley shouted. Where’s the fire? He wanted to sink back into bed and conjure up Chloe’s moves and cries. She’d intrigued him, charged him up, made him feel new.
Leave it alone. He couldn’t see her again, not with what he was doing at Enzo’s—gathering leads, watching who ate with whom and what they said to each other, then passing it on to the Phoenix FBI’s Task Force on Organized Crime. They considered him a resource and often picked his brain.
Besides, he liked things simple and Chloe was not a simple girl—taking care of her family the way she’d described told him that. Last night was a one-time deal. She clearly wanted it that way. Much better. No complications. No disappointment. One hot memory to call up when needed.
At the door, Idle whined and quivered, waiting for him to open it. He never acted this way, not even for Max.
“Settle down,” he said, leaning to the peephole.
He was startled to see Chloe standing there, chewing her lip, wet hair plastered to her cheeks, holding a rain-peppered sack with purple flowers sticking out. What the hell? She’d brought him groceries? And flowers?
Idle whined again. “You smelled her, huh? Like spring.” He grinned as he threw open the door.
“I’m back,” she said with a shy smile. The wet-desert smell billowed in with her own scent, filling his head. They stood staring at each other, her eyes flitting here and there, his doing the same. Damn, she was pretty.
And nervous, he noticed. Hmm.
Idle squealed with delight.
“Hello, buddy.” She leaned down to pat him with her free hand. “I brought breakfast,” she said, looking up at him.
“You didn’t need to—”
“I wanted to,” she said, then ducked her gaze. “The kitchen is this way?” She set off, not waiting for a reply.
He followed and watched her put down the sack and take out the flowerpot. “Just for color,” she said, blushing pink, then hurried to empty the sack of eggs, glass containers with herbs and oil, a bottle of maple syrup, sliced ham, mushrooms and a waffle iron. “I figured you like a hearty breakfast, so I thought Belgian waffles with ham crisps. The batter’s ready. I just need twenty minutes to bake the crisps. That okay?”
She was babbling to cover her tension.
“I can wait.” He moved closer. Was she embarrassed about returning?
“Good.” From the bottom of the sack, she lifted a white chef’s apron. When she looped it over her neck, her hands shook. Something was wrong.
He tied her strings, then turned her to face him. “How come you’re all of a sudden my personal chef?”
“I wanted to make up for leaving so fast.” But her face went pink and her eyes flicked up and left, signifying a fib. She reminded him of a suspect with something to hide or confess.
“What’s
