Part 5 (1/2)

I pause outside Gloria's office door to compose myself. My insides are quivering with a combination of frustration, aggravation and rage. At Williams. At fate. At myself because I've put myself in this ridiculous position of agreeing to help Gloria. Why didn't I tell her to go to h.e.l.l this afternoon? If I had, I could be with my folks and Trish right now, pretending to eat Christmas cookies and listening to them laugh. Give Williams' flunky something to think about. That's the reality I want.

I glance around the bar, not really expecting to identify my tail. If I didn't sense a presence before, I won't now.

I look back at the door. The sooner I get this over with, the better. I don't bother to knock. I grab the door handle and push.

Gloria is sitting in the same chair, in the same position as I found her this afternoon. This time, though, her eyes aren't turned toward the window. She's staring at a piece of paper clutched in a hand that's shaking.

”What's that, Gloria? Your cosmetics bill for the month?”

When her attention switches to me, the expression on her face changes from shock to fury. She jumps to her feet, lunges toward me.

”It's a note from Rory,” she says, waving the paper at me. ”That b.a.s.t.a.r.d is threatening to file suit against me. For fraud. He says he'll claim millions in missing profits.”

Wow. I'm almost impressed with the ferocity of her wrath. ”Looks like he's changed his mind about the p.u.s.s.y, huh?”

It's a cra.s.s, b.i.t.c.hy thing to say, but right now cra.s.s and b.i.t.c.hy is how I feel. Gloria is so mad at O'Sullivan, she lets my remark go unanswered.

I jab a thumb toward the door. ”I guess you don't really need me to hang around anymore. Obviously, O'Sullivan won't be showing his face here. I doubt your business partner will want to dilute his claims against you by risking a countercharge of s.e.xual hara.s.sment. Which means I don't need to mitigate anything with David-”

”Mitigate what with David?”

The voice from the doorway makes the words lodge somewhere in the back of my throat. Reluctantly, I turn around.

My partner, David, ex-boyfriend of Gloria, or so I thought, is standing in the doorway. His blue eyes are alive with a spark I haven't seen in weeks. When I look back at Gloria, she's smiling at him, and her eyes mirror the same excitement.

A sick hollowness settles in the pit of my stomach.

f.u.c.k. I thought my day was bad before. It's getting worse.

CHAPTER 10.

GLORIA AND DAVID ARE GENERATING AS MUCH heat as a nuclear reactor. I step away from them, out of meltdown range, in self-defense.

They are locked in each other's gaze. I never understood that phrase before this moment. I keep waiting for the orchestra to appear and the music to swell.

”Jesus. You're like a couple of dogs in heat.”

Not even my sarcasm breaks the mood.

David clears his throat and steps into the room, shutting the door behind him. He's dressed in jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt and a leather jacket. His hair is brushed straight back and still wet, as if he stepped out of the shower and didn't want to take the time to dry it.

Since he lives in a loft about five minutes from here, it's probably exactly what happened. Gloria called and he rushed right over.

The jerk.

They stare at each other. Then he and Gloria come together, drawn as if by magnets, like two of those stupid bobblehead dolls, and fall into each other's arms. They ignore me, like I was invisible. They kiss long, hard and noisily.

I can only take so much.

”I'm going to throw up.”

David comes up for air, throws me an indulgent, sappy smile. ”I should be mad at you,” he says. ”You didn't let me know Gloria was back in town.”

In what parallel universe was I ever likely to do that? I stare at him. Then I stare at Gloria. ”You want to jump in here anytime?”

But Gloria is hugging David, her face buried in his shoulder, ignoring me.

In another instant, they're both ignoring me because they're sucking face again.

There's a knock on the door. Loud. Insistent.

I arch an eyebrow toward the lovers. Neither makes a move to pull back or disengage. ”Don't worry,” I snarl. ”I'll get that.”

If I'm lucky, the place will be on fire. Which I may or may not tell David and Gloria. A good dousing from a fire hose is what those two need.

I yank open the door. There's a man in a suit frowning at me. He's flanked by two cops in uniform. He flashes a badge and looks over my shoulder at the lovebirds.

”Gloria Estrella?”

His tone is belligerent and hostile. It startles Gloria into breaking the lip-lock. It surprises me, too. I didn't think anyone talked to her like that except me. Makes me take a closer look.

He's about five feet ten, all planes and angles. Square jaw, stubborn, arrogant face, boxy physique under a ready-to-wear suit of charcoal gray. His mouth has a cynical twist that is vaguely familiar. When he looks at Gloria, it's not the way guys usually look at her. There's no drool dripping off his chin and his eyes reflect no admiration or l.u.s.t. He's sizing her up like a perp. The same way he sized me up not too long ago.

”Detective Harris?”

For the first time his eyes disengage from Gloria and flick to me. It's lightning fast. A camera lens focusing on an image, processing the shot, moving on to another. He doesn't confirm or deny that he recognizes me.

Doesn't matter. I certainly recognize him. What's a homicide cop doing in Gloria's office?

He shoulders his way past me into the room. The two cops with him crowd the door but don't follow him in.

Gloria straightens and pulls back from David. She rounds on Harris, her eyes flas.h.i.+ng. ”How did you get back here? This area is not open to the public.”

He holds up the badge. ”I'm not the public. You are Gloria Estrella.” Not a question, a statement.

”Yes.”

”You know Rory O'Sullivan?”

”He's my business partner in this restaurant.”

”Not anymore.”

Gloria gives Harris a slow, brittle smile. ”Who are you? Is this Rory's idea of a joke? How much is he paying you to annoy me?”