The Redemption Of Rafe Diaz. Maggie Price

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      “How many taillights? What shape?”

      She arched a brow. “The police didn’t ask me such specific questions.”

      “I believe in being thorough.”

      You would have been a good cop, Allie thought and felt a wrench of regret for the unfair hand life had dealt him. “The taillights were round. Two on each side.” She tried to picture something about the car during the few seconds she’d glanced its way. “I think they were high up, close to the lid of the trunk.”

      Rafe nodded. “You didn’t see enough of your attacker to ID him. But did you get a sense of anything about him?”

      “No, there wasn’t time. Everything happened so fast. Too fast.”

      Before she could block it, the vision flashed in her head of the dark form lunging at her. The fear came barreling back, sending a wave of nausea lurching in her stomach. Leaning forward, Allie propped her forearms on her knees and shut her eyes against the blinding white spots spinning before them. God, would the image never start to fade?

      “Are you all right?”

      She flinched when Rafe’s voice came from just beside her. She hadn’t even heard him move. “I’m…fine.” A sheen of clammy perspiration enveloped her entire body. “Fine.”

      “Fine, hell,” Rafe muttered. With one hand, he shoved her head between her knees. “You’re as white as chalk and about to pass out. Take deep breaths.”

      With her head spinning and her vision dimming, Allie had no choice but to obey. Please don’t let me heave on his shoes, she prayed as she dragged in a series of shaky breaths against the nausea churning in her stomach.

      Keeping his hand pressed against her spine, Rafe lowered himself onto the arm of the love seat. Despite her dazed senses, Allie felt the pressure of each of his fingers through the fabric of her suit, all too aware of the latent strength in his touch.

      “You have some water around here?” His voice had lost some of its hardness.

      “There’s…a small refrigerator off the fitting room,” she said, keeping her eyes on the blurred toes of her yellow leather heels.

      “Where’s the fitting room?”

      “Just beyond that arched doorway.”

      Without further comment, he rose and disappeared out of her line of sight, his footsteps hollow echoes as he headed across the shop.

      Lord, Allie thought. How many times over the five years since his release had she thought about contacting him? Or writing him a letter to let him know how horribly sorry she was. In the end, she’d done nothing. There was no way to make up for the wrong that had been done to him. That she’d done.

      Rafe returned, unscrewing the lid off a bottle of water.

      Bracing herself, Allie eased upright and took the bottle from him with both hands. “Thanks.”

      She sipped slowly, concentrating on the simple act of swallowing the cool liquid.

      When her vision came back into focus, she saw that Rafe had relocated behind the upholstered chair. “Feel like continuing?” he asked, his dark eyes measuring her.

      “Yes.” She lifted her free hand to her bruised temple, felt her fingertips tremble against her tender flesh. “I keep telling myself that it’s over, that I’m safe. Then I see this blurry shadow careen from behind the door. I was so afraid.”

      “What happened after he hit you?”

      “I don’t know. I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up on the kitchen floor.” Allie squeezed her eyes shut. “The first thing I saw were Mercedes’s dead eyes staring back at me.” A shiver ran up Allie’s spine and her voice broke. “I was unconscious for over half an hour. He had plenty of time to kill me, too.” She took another shaky sip of water, then lifted her gaze to meet Rafe’s. “I don’t know why I’m still alive.”

      Rafe’s mouth tightened. “The fact you are tells me he knew for sure you didn’t get a look at him.”

      “Which is fortunate for me.” Allie took another sip of water. “Not for your client if he’s innocent.”

      Apparently assured she was no longer in danger of fainting, Rafe wandered past an array of display racks holding colorful, delicate silks. Allie noted that he moved with the sinuous tread of a big cat. No wasted motion, no abrupt movements.

      Seven years ago, she hadn’t known him all that well—he and Nina had dated only a short time. Still, Allie had been well aware that there had been something about Rafe Diaz, and it wasn’t only his dark, go-to-hell looks. He’d exuded some sort of innate brooding sexiness that seemed to promise endless nights of pleasure. Watching him now, she realized that hadn’t changed.

      “Speaking of my client,” he began. “Bishop told me that both his mistress and his wife shop here.”

      With her mouth having gone dry for an entirely different reason, Allie took another sip of water. “True, but I wasn’t aware of that until after Hank’s arrest. Mercedes made no secret she had a married lover, but she never told me his name.”

      “Who paid her bill?”

      “She used a credit card in her own name.”

      “Did she and Bishop’s wife ever cross paths here?”

      “No. Mercedes always made a point to come here after regular business hours.” Allie set the water bottle aside. “Look, I didn’t pass judgment on Mercedes’s lifestyle. But the fact is, she had a married lover, who apparently wanted her to feel free to buy whatever she wanted in my shop. I saw no reason not to accommodate the arrangement.”

      Rafe slid her a look. “And you wanted the profits.”

      His judgmental tone had Allie bristling. “I’d be a damn poor business owner if I didn’t keep my eye on the bottom line,” she shot back. “And you apparently didn’t let Hank Bishop’s questionable morals get in the way when you agreed to take him on as a client.”

      Rafe paused beside the velvet-covered pedestal to study the ornate shoes. “Point taken,” he said after a moment.

      Allie felt a rush of satisfaction at his admission.

      “Does Bishop’s wife shop here a lot?”

      “Yes, Ellen’s a regular customer.”

      “Did she know her husband had a mistress on the side?”

      “If she did, she didn’t tell me.”

      Allie’s gaze followed Rafe’s to the pedestal and the shoes that were to be auctioned at the upcoming benefit for the foundation she had established years ago. In the past, Ellen Bishop had attended the auction, but now that her husband’s affair was out in the open and he’d been charged with the murder of his mistress, Allie suspected it might be a while before Ellen was ready to show her face again in public.

      “Bishop’s

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