Billy grunted as the counter knocked him over, and by the time she looked over the counter, Rick had grabbed the guy’s gun and was dragging him to his feet.
“Are you all right?” Rick asked her, yanking Billy’s hands behind his back.
“Y-y-yes,” she managed to say, realizing her teeth were chattering uncontrollably. She was vaguely aware that her throat hurt and she was shaking so hard she felt as if she might tumble over.
“Sit before you fall,” Rick said, kicking her computer chair closer to her. She collapsed into it, surveying her tipped-over counter, her wrecked monitor. The CPU had stayed in its slot and Billy’s body had softened the fall, so maybe only the monitor was ruined.
What was she thinking? She’d nearly been kidnapped or killed or both and she was worrying about her equipment?
She looked at Rick, who was handcuffing Billy. Rick had handcuffs? Police, he’d said. She knew about the gun from the other night. She’d thought it was cute that he was acting like a security guard. But he wasn’t a security guard. He was a cop.
A cop. Working on a case? Staking out Mirror, Mirror? It was too shocking to grasp all at once.
“You weren’t in the army?” she said faintly, knowing how crazy that sounded, but she was rethinking everything she knew about Rick in these kaleidoscopic moments. She became aware of sirens in the distance, getting louder.
He shot a glance at her. “We’ve been watching Sylvestri for months. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for this, but what you said about the knitting shop made me realize I had to get out there and—” He stopped abruptly, nodded at his captive, telling her he couldn’t talk in front of the guy. “I’ll explain everything when I can.”
He yanked Billy over to the waiting area and shoved him to the couch. The huge man in leather and chains looked silly on the pink velvet sofa. “I want a lawyer,” he said, completing the transformation from big, bad biker to fat, pathetic loser. She should have kneed him in the nuts and saved Rick the trouble of rescuing her.
“You get a lawyer and you can forget any breaks,” Rick snapped. “Work with us now. Last chance.”
The sirens, now screaming, stopped abruptly, and she watched through the glass as police officers lunged out of two cars and into the Mirror, Mirror lobby.
Seconds later, an officer took over watching Billy, while Rick led the others farther into the studio to talk, leaving her sitting there, miserable and confused. And angry, it turned out.
The mystery of why Rick had wanted to work at Bedroom Eyes had been solved in a few terror-filled moments. He was investigating Darien Sylvestri. And Bianca?
And her?
Had he been investigating her, too?
She jumped to her feet, wanting to demand the answer, and started for the hall, then realized she couldn’t interrupt him now. The answer was obvious, anyway, as she recalled all the questions, him poring over her books, grilling Lester, even asking her if she took more graphic photos.
She turned back, planning to sit and wait, but her eye fell on her computer. The green light was still on. She squatted to check it and noticed a tiny piece of metal dangling from the shelf above—looked like a hook of some kind. It turned out to hold the end of the shelf closed. Inside the hollow slot, she found a ledger just like the one she used. Opening it, she immediately recognized Lester’s tiny, precise handwriting and lots of big, big numbers.
Oh, dear.
“What have you got?” Rick spoke from above her.
“You were right to suspect Lester,” she said, handing up the book. “There’s a false shelf and this was in it.”
“You didn’t know about this?” he demanded, flipping through the pages, giving her a stern look. He was a different person entirely—cold and terse. Not friendly, not teasing, not warm at all. A complete stranger.
“Of course not,” she said, anger spiraling through her. He had suspected her, all right. That was clear.
“I have to ask,” he said, softening his tone. “Finding this is important to the case. It explains why Darien said Bedroom Eyes was prime.”
“He said what?” She felt sick at the thought that her generous landlord had used her in some terrible crime.
Rick’s eyes raked over her, his mouth tight, as if he had so much to say. “Look, I have to go. They caught Sylvestri at the Deer Valley Airport.” He glanced at the officers near Billy and turned so his back was to them. “I told them you knew nothing, but you’ll have to answer questions.”
“Of course. I’ll answer any question anybody has,” she snapped. “I did nothing wrong.”
“I know that, Samantha,” he said, grabbing her hand. She thought he wanted to offer comfort, but he only placed a business card in it. “Talk to this lawyer. Larry Tucker. He’s a friend of Brian’s. Decent guy and very smart.”