Virgin in Disguise Read online

  Or be getting help from someone.

  Chapter 11

  Cabrini maneuvered the luxury car through the midday city traffic. “What’s with all the hamster tubes?” He pointed at the enclosed pedestrian walkways over the streets.

  “We prefer to call them skyways. Turn left.” Angel pointed at the intersection. “Most of downtown Minneapolis is connected by them. You can get from Target Center on one end to the Convention Center on the other end without ever going outside.”

  “This is a good thing?”

  “Very good, considering the local climate. Come wintertime you’ll see—” She stopped. No, he wouldn’t. Cabrini would be long gone before the first snowfall ever whitened the landscape.

  That was fine with her. She didn’t need or want him around, complicating her life. The novelty of working with a partner would be long past stale if he was still around in the winter.

  Traffic stopped behind a delivery truck. He shifted lanes with a smooth turn of the wheel. “Nice car.”

  She shrugged and directed him to the Marriott City Center hotel.

  “All the money you save by driving the junker, you put into this for your mother?”

  His probing hit a tender situation. She didn’t really want to explain to someone who wouldn’t be around long enough to understand. “It’s a gift.”

  “Quite the gift. What does one do to merit such generosity?”

  She shot a quelling look in his direction. “Not much, just lose a spouse in the line of duty.” And lose your mind in grief.

  “I’m not following.”

  She sighed. “Dex likes to help out when he can. Every couple years, he leases a new car for Mom. She gets to ride around in style whenever Corie or I take her out. And he gets to assuage his guilt for having survived the fire that killed Dad.”

  “So, he atones by providing you and your mother with a lakeside cabin and a luxury car? And he throws work your way every now and then.”

  “No.”

  “And yet, he had you track me down so he could have a ‘discussion’ with me.” He held his hand up, cutting off her protest before she could voice it. “Give it up. Dex is your client. We both know I’m right, so cut the evasion. We’ll figure out what’s going on a whole lot faster if we’re both working with all the available information.”

  “Fine. Let’s start with clearing up your misperception. I rarely take jobs from family or friends. It tends to get complicated.”

  “What made this different?”

  She shrugged, wishing she hadn’t taken this assignment. Complicated didn’t begin to describe the situation. “He never asked before.”

  “In other words, what you really mean is, you don’t take work from friends or family who don’t ask?”

  “Nooo.” She drew out the word as she dug a little deeper into her short supply of patience. “He said he was in a delicate position and needed someone he could trust to discreetly handle a situation.”

  “Me being the situation.”

  “As it turns out, yes.”

  “Hold that thought.” He pulled the car into the line for the hotel’s valet parking. “We’ll continue this when we get to the room.”

  “Fine.” Relief sapped some of the tension from between her shoulders. She reached into the back seat for her duffel bag. The action brought her close enough to Cabrini to catch his scent and send her libido into hyperdrive. Dangerous ground. She pushed the car door open. “Check in under your agency name. I’ll be back in a couple hours. And Mistah Cabrini, suh?”

  He raised one eyebrow at the return of her southern accent. “Yes?”

  “Two rooms.” She escaped the car and sauntered down the street. Until she assumed her next identity, they made too memorable an odd couple to check in together. Besides, she had things to do.

  Starting with a little kickboxing. That would take care of the day’s exercise requirement and combine nicely with her need to vent a little frustration.

  Frank checked them into adjoining rooms, opened the connecting doors and spent a few minutes unpacking their bags.

  He caught himself lingering over the texture and style of Elf’s clothes, trying to picture her in the tailored business suits. The faint scent of vanilla clung to the fabric, and he imagined peeling each layer away to reveal the woman beneath.

  Every time he thought he had a handle on the “real” Elf, some new discovery forced him to acknowledge how little he actually knew about her. Self-preservation dictated that he keep that in mind and not get sucked into a relationship doomed to fail.

  Memories of the previous night’s revelation stirred and ignited a hunger for more.

  Self-preservation be damned. If he had any choice in the matter, the second room wouldn’t be getting much use.

  Once the last of his clothes had been hung in the closet and the luggage stowed, he wandered around the room.

  Their location in one of the triangular building’s corners provided a wide-angle view of the busy downtown. In contrast, the short hall outside the room seemed eerily quiet.

  He checked his watch. Still a stretch of time to kill before Elf’s return. He took advantage of her absence to check in with his boss.

  “It’s about time.” Kat greeted him in her typical brusque manner.

  “We’ve been a little busy.”

  “So have I.” She gave him the pertinent information she’d gathered on one Angela Marie Donovan, daughter of Patrick, a Minneapolis police officer killed in the line of duty.

  “I already knew most of that. Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Fine. Let’s look at Officer Donovan’s former partner. We managed to dig up a little more on him through the national databases and a few well-placed resources.” The sound of rustling papers came over the phone line.

  He settled at the desk and concentrated on the information Kat relayed.

  The picture taking shape wasn’t pretty, but it certainly solved the mystery of Elf’s role. In Marvin Dexter’s scheme, she was one more low card, easily sacrificed on the way to a better deal.

  “Frank, be careful.” Kat’s concern filtered through his thoughts. “I’m beginning to think it’s time to send some backup.”

  “Not necessary, boss. I already have a partner. One’s enough.”

  “You trust Ms. Donovan that much?”

  “Yes.” More than trust, the realization settled in his chest with a warm certainty. “The bigger question is, does she trust me?”

  “You better find out. She’s facing a difficult decision, and I don’t want you paying for her choice with your life.”

  “It won’t come to that.” He hoped. “I’ll check back with you tomorrow.”

  Formulating a plan for their next step provided a good excuse to avoid delving too far into his feelings for Elf. He leafed through the new information, fitting the details with the events of the past couple days.

  The ringing phone broke into his concentration.

  “Where are you?” Elf sounded tired.

  He gave her the room numbers. A couple of minutes later, a firm knock sounded at the door.

  When he swung the door open, a stranger stood in front of him. Simple, black heels and knee-skimming skirt framed shapely legs. The tailored jacket of the classic black suit accented a trim waist. Subtle makeup and dark, rich brown hair, combed in a sleek style, combined to highlight the woman’s elegant bone structure. Dark-rimmed glasses didn’t disguise her deep blue eyes from him.

  He let loose with a low whistle. “You’ve done it again, Elf.”

  She brushed past him and dropped her duffel bag in the adjoining room. He trailed after her and watched her unpack. “New wig?”

  “No. My hair. My color. I’m tired of—” She turned to face him. “Did you want something?”

  Yeah, I’d like to know what you’re tired of. He let her unfinished comment go, for the moment. Other, more pressing, issues needed to be addressed. “Come in here. Let’s talk.”

  “
Talk, as in, the equal sharing of information?” She tossed her bag into the closet and slid the door shut. “Or as in, you ask all the questions and I get nothing?”

  “You may not like the answers, but you’ll get to ask your questions, I promise.” He led the way into the larger room.

  She sat in one of the low chairs, crossing her legs and flashing him enough thigh to kick his pulse into his throat.

  He battled his reaction the only way available to him at the moment—he talked about the case.

  “I checked in with my boss and she had some interesting information to share. It seems Marvin Dexter, formerly a Minneapolis police officer partnered with Patrick Donovan—your father—has been busy moving up the political ladder since leaving the force. After a number of years on the city council, he now has a good chance of winning the upcoming mayoral election. State governor seems to be the next step on his agenda.”

  “And his political aspirations are important because…?” Her reaction revealed mild irritation and little else.

  “It’s important because Dexter—Dex as you call him—hired you and directed you to, essentially, kidnap me. To your credit, you had no idea that was his intention when you accepted his request. He very deliberately kept you in the dark.”

  “What makes you so sure about that?”

  “You said it yourself, Elf. I believe your exact words were ‘last week’s sauerkraut.’”

  She slid a little deeper into her chair, revealing more leg as her skirt hiked up. “What do you want from me?”

  “First off, you can quit trying to distract me with your legs.” He could admire her tactic of using her body to elicit certain responses. Any good undercover agent would do the same.

  He didn’t like her applying that tactic to him. “We’ll get a lot further if we quit playing games.”

  She straightened in her chair, returning her skirt back to its modest length. “Does this mean you’re finally going to tell me about your client?”

  He nodded. “More than you’ll want to know, but it’s time you learned the truth.”

  “Truth is a highly flexible concept.”

  “Then let’s stick to the facts.”

  Frank sat on the couch across from Elf’s chair. He’d known this moment would come. That knowledge didn’t make it any easier.

  Would she be angry at him for not telling her sooner? Or would she continue to deny the evidence?

  Realizing how he felt about her, what he hoped they could have in the future, added to the pressure.

  “I’m waiting, Cabrini. Let’s hear your facts.”

  The only way he’d get his answers was if he leveled with her. “You’ve been doing your own investigation on the side, looking into the circumstances of your father’s murder.”

  She crossed her arms. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Your digging has stirred up a few things, things the parties involved would just as soon never saw the light of day.”

  “That’s usually the case when something dirty gets buried.”

  “Twenty years ago, your father started an independent investigation looking into a series of arsons. He was close to breaking the case when he was killed and all his information disappeared.”

  “How do you know this?” Her eyes narrowed.

  The facts of the case should be easy enough to relay. The underlying background, though, had him choosing his words with more care than a normal debriefing would warrant. “The Diamond Group was contracted two months ago to investigate an old arson/murder. You and I were on the same track, headed for the same conclusion. It makes a certain sense to get us together and dispose of us at one time, before we could do too much damage.”

  Elf pushed out of her chair and paced the room. “You still want me to believe someone is trying to kill me?”

  “You were getting too close to the truth.”

  She stopped in front of him, hands planted on her hips, anger radiating from every pore. “What truth?”

  “Marvin Dexter killed your father.”

  She took a step back from him. “That’s ridiculous.” She backed away another step. “They were partners, closer than brothers.”

  “Brothers kill brothers.”

  “No.” She turned away.

  “I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

  “Who else?”

  “Our client pointed us in that direction.”

  “Then he’s wrong, whoever he is.” Her long strides took her from one end of the room to the other.

  “She.”

  “What?” She stopped and turned to glare at him.

  “Our client is a she.”

  Elf resumed pacing, her back stiff and straight. “Then, she’s wrong.”

  “We don’t believe so.”

  “Why now? It’s been twenty years. Why is someone coming forward with this crazy theory after all this time?”

  “There are a combination of factors.” Long before they’d made love, when he’d first realized who Elf was, he’d known he’d have to deal with this revelation. He needed her to believe him, but doing so meant she had to give up some long-held illusions. “The stakes are higher now.”

  “Politics again.”

  “With each new level of office, past indiscretions become bigger liabilities. Some can be glossed over. Others, like murder and arson, are harder to dismiss.”

  “Your client, is she one of his opponents?”

  “No. She’s a private citizen.”

  “You said it was a combination of factors. What else is involved?”

  He caught her hand as she brushed past him on another circuit of the room. “Our client is recovering from a long-term…misdiagnosis, actually.”

  Elf sank into the chair.

  “Her original doctor disappeared several months ago. We think he may have been eliminated because of what he knew.” Frank continued, laying out the facts, watching the reluctant dawn of understanding in her expression. “Our client’s new doctor suspected a misdiagnosis and prescribed different medication. As a result, our client has regained some memories. With her increased coherence has come increased awareness of the danger surrounding her. And her daughter.”

  “No.” Elf wrapped her arms around her waist. “It’s paranoia. The right medication alleviates that.”

  He wanted to pull her into his arms, shelter her from the emotions chasing across her expressive face. “Paranoia doesn’t rule out real danger.”

  “If she’s in such danger, how did she contact your agency?”

  “Through her doctor’s office. Kat didn’t take this case on until the doctor thoroughly briefed her on the woman’s situation. When she was convinced of the reality, she assigned me to the case.”

  “What did you think when you met with your client?”

  “I haven’t, yet. Our communication is still routed through the doctor.”

  “Are you sure the doctor isn’t making this up? It could be some elaborate scheme for publicity or something.”

  “You don’t really think Dr. Brenna would do that, do you?”

  “Dr….” Elf pushed out of her chair and crossed to the windows. “No.” She whispered the denial.

  Frank came behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. Her muscles were tensed rock hard. He kneaded the tight knots. “I’m sorry Elf. I know it’s a lot to believe, most of it on faith.”

  “It’s too much. He loves her.”

  “What?”

  “Dex.” She pulled away from him. “He loves my mother.”

  “He told you this?”

  “Never in so many words. But it’s always been there, underneath the surface. Everything he’s done for us, for her, over the years. It wasn’t just survivor’s guilt.

  “Now you expect me to believe…? No. How could he destroy my mother like that? How could he come to our home and pretend to be our friend if what you say is true?”

  “Because, if the information she’s provided is true—and we believe it
is—the only other alternative would have been to kill her, as well.”

  All the color drained from Elf’s face. He did enfold her in his arms then, holding her as shivers wracked her body, glad she didn’t push him away.

  Too soon, she gathered herself and pulled back from him.

  “I want to meet with her doctor. I want to know why she never saw fit to tell me.” Her voice throbbed with anger.

  He nodded. “Do you have the number for her office?”

  She retrieved her cell phone and punched in the number from memory. “This doesn’t mean I believe everything you’ve told me.”

  “Fair enough. We’ll take this one hurdle at a time.”

  Elf walked into the adjacent room. She returned almost immediately. “Dr. Brenna’s service picked up the call. She’s out of town at a conference until Wednesday.”

  “We’ll get in to see her then.”

  “She tried to tell me,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “Mom. She tried, a half dozen times at least, to get me to go with her to an appointment.” She fiddled with her cell phone, not looking at him. “I was always too busy or made some excuse.”

  “You couldn’t know. Besides, you had to make a living.”

  “It was easier to let Corie take her to the appointments.” She tugged at her hair, ruffling the smooth style. “I didn’t want to deal with her illness.”

  “Beating yourself up isn’t going to change anything now. What matters is that we’ll see the doctor on Wednesday.”

  “What do we do in the meantime?”

  “I’m thinking room service.”

  She finally looked him in the eye. “Is eating your solution to everything?”

  “I’m Italian.” In his family, that generally sufficed as an excuse.

  “Go ahead. I’m not hungry.”

  He pulled her into his arms. “I know it feels like you just got dumped on. It’s a lot to handle. But you aren’t in this alone.”

  “No?”

  “No.” He brushed his hands across her back, trying to comfort her.

  “Part of your client service standards?”