driver had honked a horn behind them. It had been reflex to reach out for Dianna’s extended hand. Pull her back out of harm’s way.
Better that than reach for the snub-nosed gun he wore in a holster at his ankle.
“Do you mind if we make a stop before we go back into the Center?” Dianna asked as the car descended.
“Where?”
“A room in the basement. I’ve needed to go there for the last couple of days but haven’t gotten around to it.”
“Fine,” Travis said. She’d no doubt been too scared to visit the basement room after seeing Farley. That was smart. She shouldn’t go anywhere alone right now, and the basement probably wasn’t the most populated place in the Center.
She leaned past him and pushed the B button. She was near enough for a second, in that confined space, for him to inhale her scent—soft, yet definitely spicy.
Travis stepped back, to prevent himself from becoming more aware of her as a woman, and not just a person he had to protect.
He was surprised, when the door opened, to see that the basement wasn’t the dreary dungeon he had anticipated. Sure, no daylight poured in since windows were nonexistent, but recessed lighting lined the hall where they emerged from the elevator.
“This way.” Dianna led him past a few closed doors, then pushed open one near the end of the hall.
This was what he had figured the basement would look like.
When Dianna flicked the switch, the long room where they stood was illuminated only by bare bulbs dangling from the ceiling. Debris littered the floor—wads of old carpeting and rolls of carpet padding; coils of wire; sheets of damaged drywall; cans of obviously-opened paint, their hues evident by the cascades of color along their sides.
But when he glanced quizzically at Dianna, the light immediately seemed brightened from the glow of her smile.
“What’s so special about this room?” he grumbled. Damn it, he had to stop noticing things like Dianna Englander’s smile. Her scent. Her courage.
He needed distance, and not just physically. But because he could not promise himself even physical distance, he had to adopt utter detachment. Fast.
“There’s nothing special about it yet.” Dianna stepped farther inside and moved debris from along the wall. She paced the length, then the width, counting her steps aloud. “I just need approximate dimensions before making phone calls,” she said when she was finished. “The contractors who bid will have to take more accurate measurements.” She turned toward Travis. “Do cops have any imagination?”
“Probably not.”
“Well, pretend. Picture this as a large playroom for kids whose parents are upstairs arguing over their custody, or over money, or over anything. This will be a haven, staffed by very special child-care personnel who are also trained therapists.”
Travis frowned. “I don’t think I can pretend that hard.”
“You’re a magician,” she countered. “Consider it a feat of magic. Soft, fluffy carpets, with lots of colorful toys like blocks that kids can build with and even climb into. Bright plastic tables and chairs, with puzzles and books. Lots of light, a kitchen with fruit, juice and cookies, murals on the walls…” She was near a wall and touched it with her hand. The concrete surface was cracked. “Like I said, pretend.”
The garbage on the floor was virtually colorless in the shadows. And Travis saw no kitchen.
But what he did see was a woman with vision. A very beautiful woman who enhanced his vision.
“Yeah,” he said. “I see it.”
A SHORT WHILE LATER, he insisted on accompanying her back upstairs to her office.
She hadn’t wanted him to. She’d made that clear as they rode the parking lot elevator back up to the lobby, repeated it when they were alone once more in the next ascending car, in a separate elevator bank, from the lobby into the office structure.
“I’m not going to stop living just because Farley’s hanging around trying to scare me,” she fumed, her arms folded.
“Trying?” Travis countered. “You looked pretty damned scared to me when we first got into the parking lot.”
And right about now, she just looked pretty damned pretty. The frown that turned her light, arched brows asymmetrical was somehow appealing.
Yeah, and maybe Travis just liked contrary women, fool that he was.
“I was a little scared,” she admitted, once again proving to him that the woman had guts. “But as I said, I’m not about to stop living because of Farley.”
He noticed how she’d stressed that she wouldn’t stop living because of the suspect who’d shown up here. Her husband had. And, if the stories he’d read were right, so had the baby she’d been carrying.
Dianna definitely had guts.
And if Farley was the one who’d bombed that redevelopment downtown near the convention center and sports arena, and he was now around here, Travis was going to use those guts of hers, if he had to, to trap the elusive suspect. No one knew how Farley had succeeded in slipping away so many times after all the high-profile felonies he’d committed. Yet not even the feds, with all their resources, had been able to bring him in.
But Travis intended to get him. And Dianna would not be harmed. He would make sure of it.
When they got to the A-S Development suite, a couple of beefy guys who looked as uncomfortable as hell in the suits they wore were on their way out. Construction types, Travis figured, there for meetings with Alberts and Sellers.
A younger man was talking to the receptionist—what was her name? Beth? That guy seemed right at home in his suit. He also seemed right at home coming on to one woman while staring appreciatively at another. Travis didn’t like the way Dianna met his gaze, but she smiled coolly and headed down the hall, Travis following in her wake.
Her office was different from the first he’d visited in this suite. The desk was a blond wood, Scandinavian in its sleekness. Across from it were two matching chairs with wooden arms, upholstered with a jagged-patterned pink-and-blue fabric that matched the taller, armless chairs around the table in her sitting area. Though there were piles of paper on the desk, they were neatly squared and, Travis had no doubt, organized.
The view from her window was, like Wally’s, over the plaza below. Travis would be able to look up from his pushcart post, count windows, and know exactly where Dianna was supposed to be.
But he doubted this woman would pay attention to what he told her, even if it was for her own good.
When Dianna sat behind her desk, Travis said, “I’m going back to my pushcart, help Manny put it away for the night. That’s our agreement. But I’ll accompany you to your car when you’re ready to go home. Call me on my cell phone.” He pulled a card from his small notebook and handed it to her.
“No need,” she said with a shrug. “I won’t stay late, and as I told you before, I used the parking valet.”
