Picture This Page 21

  Unlike the other one that must have been fairly old, in this one, her hair was bleach blond, long, and shiny. The perfect characteristic to spring to mind a clear erotic, purely lustful image of her naked, that long gorgeous hair draped over her shoulders and falling like tantalizing curtains over her flawlessly rounded, divinely sized breasts.

  "The concept did reach my ears." Adrien shut the door behind him and moved to the short sofa along one wall of Michael's office.

  Michael clicked another webpage, effectively covering Rhonda Ramsey's supremely beautiful, happy face and incredibly seductive smile without closing her website. She did look happy. Come to think of it, far happier than he'd ever seen her. Shit. He'd been doing well. For over a week, he'd managed to stay away from the cyber entrance into the woman's life. A week may not sound like a long time, but for him, when it came to stepping through the one and only door into the life of the woman he thought about endlessly, it was positively an eternity.

  "You just chose to ignore it," Michael said blandly and tried to focus on the new webpage, on the information it contained about one Ving Kim Phay, big bad ass drug lord from Cambodia who simply wouldn't die or be detained. The drug lord was harder to take down, harder to keep down than a damned cockroach!

  "You know me, I take gossip with a grain of salt."

  Michael's lips twitched. Yeah, as a gay man, Adrien probably learned that particular concept years ago. As for the whole knocking before entering thing, it really didn't make a shit to Michael and Adrien knew it. "What are you still doing here?"

  It was inching quickly upon eight p.m. Not that staying after dark was uncommon for either of them, especially in recent weeks. They'd both taken to keeping some pretty late hours with the ongoing case of tracking down a particular shipment of opium. They knew damned well it had been made right here in Silver Springs just before the bastard of a hurricane Emilio danced over their heads. Now, if only they could find out exactly what happened to the drug once the shipment had been made.

  Yeah, and tracking down Ving Kim Phay and his merry band of goons was the only reason Michael didn't care to go home these days. Right. More like he didn't want to be home because all he did was sit around his apartment and think about Rhonda Ramsey or read one of her books on his Palm Pilot or turn on his computer and surf onto her website. Okay, like he didn't do all of that stuff right here in the office, too. The difference was he did manage to find a distraction, even if only temporarily, here in the office.

  "I thought I'd stick around, finish up some of the paperwork cluttering my desk, answer the backlog of e-mails on my computer. You know, since the one I have at home is a dinosaur."

  "When are you going to replace the T-Rex or at least give it a serious upgrade? You could put in more memory, add another hard drive. Anything would help it move from snail to turtle speed or, whoa, imagine if it could keep up with a squirrel."

  "Ha ha, funny man." Adrien didn't smile, but he was obviously fighting it as he made himself comfortable on the sofa. He actually stretched out, propping his loafer clad feet on one armrest, his arms behind his head on the other. Despite the relaxed pose it had to be uncomfortable as hell considering he was laying on his shoulder holster, his Glock with its rosewood grip in place. Michael saw the piece securely in its sling when Adrien's suit jacket fell open. "And buy the time I fork out the dough to seriously upgrade, I could've bought a whole new system."

  "Well, there you go." Michael picked up the soda can near his keyboard and toasted the other man with it before taking a sip.

  "I'll get around to it." Adrien sighed, but it was more a sound of contentment than true concern over the matter. "I was also following up on some phone calls."

  "Oh?" Michael pushed away from his desk enough to lean back in his chair and prop his feet on the corner of the desktop, ankles crossed. "Anything to do with our case?"

  "Absolutely nothing." Adrien chuckled at the ceiling. "Though it came up briefly in the conversation and the phone call was with an agent frantically working on his end to see what he can find. Cameron Stone."

  FBI agent Cameron Stone from the Watersford office, yeah, Michael had touched basis with the agent several times in recent weeks, too. Stone had been one of the agents on the case when Phay had gone after former Navy SEAL now SSFD firefighter Ryan Magee. Or rather Phay's men had taken Magee's now step-son Timmy Walker and Magee had gone after the goons alone, trading himself for the boy. The DEA, FBI, local PD, and Magee's old SEAL team had then worked together to get Magee back. And all of that had been in the midst of a massive drug drop and a category three hurricane.

  "Nothing on his end yet, I gather." He didn't expect there to be. If Stone had found anything, Michael would already know about it. Although, maybe not given that the FBI agent tended to hold a few secrets securely close to the vest. Like the fact that his agency had a man on the inside working undercover in Phay's organization.

  "Nada, although to be honest, we didn't talk about it much. I asked, he answered to the negative, and the subject was closed. He's helping me with an unrelated matter, some research I'm doing for a friend."

  Adrien shifted until his view of Michael was unobstructed by Michael's propped feet. Something different glinted in the other man's eyes that Michael couldn't put his finger on, until he spoke.

  "Remember that friend of Tina Walker's that showed up at the dock when Timmy Walker was found after the hurricane?" When Michael didn't answer, Adrien went on. "The romance author. Rhonda Ramsey. We, uh, kind of kept in touch. I gave her my card, told her to contact me sometime if she wanted to talk and she gave me hers. I checked out her site, her books. Not my kind of reading, though she has this idea in the works for a gay romance that I know I'll have to read. We've been exchanging e-mails and managed to connect on the phone a time or six and, well, she's really great."

  It took everything Michael had in him not to react at that. Okay, he couldn't say he really knew Rhonda well enough to know how great she truly was, but he suspected as much. He'd seen firsthand how fantastic she treated her son Lucas, what a dear friend she'd been to Tina Walker, how magnificently well she'd hidden her troubled marriage from, not only her son, but everyone else around that day and likely every other day.

  Yeah, her marriage was in trouble and knowing that certainly didn't help Michael one iota in forgetting this boarding on psycho stalker thing he had going for the woman. Knowing Adrien had been exchanging e-mails with her, damn the man, didn't help either. Christ, Adrien was supposed to be in Michael's office right now giving him a distraction, not tossing him head first back in the loony cell on Ramsey Island.

  "She's sort of using me, I guess you could say, for a research subject for this idea of hers," Adrien was saying.

  "The gay romance she's writing." She knew Adrien was gay. That was a good thing. Not that Michael believed in a million light-years Rhonda would ever cheat on her neglectful, foulmouthed, deadbeat of a husband. It helped though, to keep Michael's completely insane and unwarranted jealously at bay. He knew a lot of women found Adrien attractive. In the words of one of the agency office's administrative assistants, he was way too sexy and boyishly handsome to be gay.

  Okay, handsome or not, Michael's jealously was an unnecessary emotion there. Except, he was jealous because at least Adrien had contact with Rhonda, which was a hell of a lot more than Michael had. Adrien had talked with her. He was helping her on a book, all because they'd exchanged a few words after the ordeal of a kidnapped child that happened to be the son of Rhonda's best friend. Oh, and because Adrien had given Rhonda his card and told her to call or e-mail if she ever wanted to talk.

  Michael had done that, too. He'd talked with her that day, a full conversation, and it had been she who made the invitation for e-mail contact. Drop me an e-mail next time you decide to read one of my books. Let me know what you think. How many times had her parting words replayed in his mind since that afternoon at the docks?

  He'd waited as long as he could and read two m
ore of her books before he'd allowed himself a short e-mail. He'd kept it nonchalant. Hey, great book. I really enjoyed the characters. How are you? How's Lucas? There had been more, but all in the same context of a friendly message to an author he admired. And she'd never responded. Apparently, her let-me-know-what-you-think door only opened one way. Comments come in, but they don’t go out.

  "Yeah," Adrien answered. "She's got plans to somehow weave the FBI and DEA into the plot. I don't know exactly where she's going with it yet. The woman's imagination goes ninety to nothing all the time."

  Michael could relate. His imagination had taken on a healthy kick since meeting Rhonda. And when he read something she wrote, well, he never had a second's trouble imagining himself with her superimposed as the hero and heroine of the story.

  "Hence the call with Stone at the FBI," Michael gathered.

  "Got it in one." Adrien shot him a grin. "Our agencies are closely related and I know a lot, but she actually stumped me with a few questions on bureau procedures and facts. She's tossed out some pretty good ones for our office, too. I, um, told her she should call you. You've got a few years on me, more experience. I also thought you might like to, um, you know, talk. I know she still has your card."

  He'd lifted his head slightly and eyed Michael with a yep-I-know-but-I-ain’t-going-to-say-it expression. And damn, here he thought his obsession with Rhonda was a secret. Color him one deep shade of wrong. Stupid as it seemed, he actually felt embarrassed. It took every ounce of control he could muster and even a bit he didn't know he could reach deep inside his gut not to pounce. What did she say to that? Why hadn't she ever called? Why hadn't she returned his e-mail? Did she ever ask about him, talk about him?

  For crying out loud! What was he, fourteen with his first crush and raging hard-on? Or maybe he'd traveled even farther back in time to freaking grade school. Maybe, if he were lucky, he could talk Adrien into passing Rhonda a note during recess. The whole ‘I love you, do you love me’ sprang to mind. He even saw the stupid boxes eagerly awaiting her check mark. One for yes and the other for no. P-lease!

  "What do you think of the new picture she put on her bio page? She looks amazing, huh?"

  Did the man have a freaking webcam in Michael's office? He actually caught himself glancing at the one built into the top of his monitor. It was off. It stayed off. He couldn't even say for sure the program for it was installed.

  "How did you…?" He started before he could stop himself, then muttered a curse and let his feet drop to the floor. He'd made three mistakes in less than as many heartbeats. Lucky for him, this wasn't a life or death interrogation or he'd be dead by now. He'd let his reaction give him away, twice. First with his visual check of the webcam and then by change of posture. And in the middle of the two, he'd had to ask the question.

  Even if he hadn't finished the thought, his unspoken words were clear. How did you know I've been looking at her website? How did you know I've been dying to talk to her, that I'm going crazy missing her, that I spend countless hours staring at her picture? Okay, his questions likely wouldn't have gone quite that far.

  Adrien shrugged, but a hint of a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Lucky guess." When Michael slowly lifted a disbelieving brow, he chuckled. "Yeah, right, it wasn't exactly a guess. More like a, well, what would you call it? I don't know. Fact is, Mikey, I saw the sparks between you that day. I also hear the wistfulness in her voice when she so much as says your name. And yes, you don't have to ask because I can see you chewing the question into bits. She does find some very creative ways to bring up your name in conversation."

  "I've seen the new picture," Michael admitted. "She looks happy."

  Adrien pursed his lips and waited. What? Was he expecting a different descriptive choice? Beautiful, perhaps? Or maybe sultry, sexy, drop-dead gorgeous, dick-achingly perfect. She was, of course, all of those and more.

  "She is. That's a new picture, only a few weeks old. She had it professionally taken at that photography studio downtown. You should send an e-mail in her direction. Tell her how happy you think she looks."

  "I tried e-mailing her once. She didn't respond." Damn it, he hadn't meant to say that. It was true, but that didn't mean he wanted to share it with Adrien.

  "Maybe you should try again. Tell her you talked to me, offer to help her with her research, ask her about Preston."

  "Why in God's name…" Would he want to ask her about her husband? Michael started to say, but let the question trail off as the door to his office flew open.

  "Figured I’d find you here."

  Michael lifted a brow as Ford Harris came inside. His hair disheveled, his clothes rumpled, the man looked like he'd recently crawled out of bed, or been party to an exciting hour or two of skin-to-skin dancing. Given the hint of a smile lingering in the man's eyes, Michael would put his money on the latter. The officer had been with a woman, one who obviously boogied Ford straight to Hormonal Happy Land. Lucky bastard.

  "Apparently knocking has become as much yesterday's fashion as a hairbrush," Michael muttered, but he had to bite back a grin.

  Ford raked his fingers through his already mussed hair. "Bite me. I was enjoying an evening of, well, let's just say I hadn't planned on leaving the house."

  "Ignore him. I like the fresh out of bed look on you. Very macho, very sexy." Adrien waggled his brows.

  Ford slid the agent a look, but Michael saw the officer's lips twitch. "Sweetheart, you're macho and sexy, too, but my heart belongs to someone else."

  On the sofa, Adrien covered his chest with a hand. "Ooo, ouch, I'm crushed."

  Ford chuckled, but sobered almost immediately as he looked back at Michael. "You know that break we've been looking for?"

  Michael sat up straighter, all playfulness gone. "Tell me you've got something?"

  "I think I've got more than something." Ford tossed two snapshots on the desktop.

  Michael recognized the EMT/Firefighter first. Cory Nox, Ford's best friend and roommate. Years of practice and experience, however, taught him to never settle for the obvious. He looked closer, his gaze drawn to the left of the man featured in the picture. "Son of a bitch."

  "Yeah, my words, too. The man's name is Deshan Minh. He's an insurance adjuster for Beachfront Chattels."

  "What would an adjuster with a local insurance company be doing with our man?" Adrien perched on the side of Michael's desk and leaned over to get a better look at the picture.

  "The new question of the hour," Ford answered. "Whatever it is, my guess is it ain't kosher. Why do two men dressed in high-priced suits meet in a city park in the middle of the day?"

  "Sounds like something out of a mystery/suspense flick," Michael muttered, not looking away from the picture.

  "And if this were a movie, the answer would be to exchange some sort of information, likely in the form of a package."

  "Which is exactly what they're doing. Check it out." Michael pointed to the figure of Deshan Minh, to the slightly opened suit jacked he wore. Deshan's hand appeared poised to reach inside the jacket for what appeared to be a manila envelope. The slightest edge of the yellow object was visible. "Look at that."

  "Well, damn, I didn't catch that." Ford leaned over the desk now, too, his gaze transfixed on the picture.

  "What's the bet there's something naughty in that envelope?" Adrien picked up the other photo on Michael's desk as he eased back. "Otherwise, why try to hide the exchange? Why go with the whole meet in a public place gambit?"

  "Yeah, but what? An insurance adjuster wouldn't very well be carrying around the plans for the next shipment of opium written on a freaking piece of paper." Ford sounded frustrated. They all were. But the underlying worry in his tone caught Michael's attention.

  Michael looked up. "My guess, our buddy Boran Roumduol here has found a way to cash in on some of the money changing hands around here."

  "An insurance scam?" Ford straightened and crossed his arms. "You're telling me Roumduol's presence here has nothi
ng to do with the opium on our streets?"

  "Oh, I didn’t say that. His being here has everything to do with the drugs we've been busting our balls to track down."

  "But while he's here on our sunny Gulf Coast that has been, incidentally, torn to pieces by the biggest storm to hit our area in decades, why not make a few more bucks if he can? Take some of the insurance money our citizens are counting on getting to rebuild their homes and lives. They don't need it. Oh, and let's not forget that in the meantime, we can scope out the city ports, plan the next move so when our drug lord boss is ready to offload another boat of top-grade opium, we know exactly when and where to set it up." Adrien said it all without taking a breath.

  Michael glanced at him. The man's incredulity was palpable. "And this surprises you, why?"

  "It doesn't." Adrien sighed. "What's in this picture?" he asked, finally paying attention to the photo in his hand.

  "Same thing but a different distance. That one was taken further back."

  "How did you ID this Deshan Minh?" Michael asked Ford. "What do you know about him other than that he's an adjuster with Beachfront Chattels?"

  "My girlfriend, Rayne, made a positive ID. She's the one who took the photo."

  "Your girlfriend was taking pictures of your roommate?" Adrien asked, skepticism and a hint of teasing in his tone.

  Ford shot him a glance. "It's for a charity firefighter calendar she's putting together with the firefighters on B shift." He looked back at Michael. "She's got a place in Billings, a little cottage on the beach. It sustained a good deal of damage in the hurricane. Her insurance company is Beachfront Chattels."

  "And her adjuster is Deshan Minh," Michael concluded.

  Ford nodded. "Yeah, he's the one handling her claim."

  "Shit." Adrien breathed.

  "Yeah," Ford said again. "Now tell me my girlfriend isn't in as much danger as I think she is."