Under Wraps Read Free Page A

number she liked to wear around the place before bed, he swallowed hard, knowing damn well she wasn’t wearing much else.
    â€œSorry to bother you so late—”
    The expression on her face froze him in his shoes. Pursed lips, a clamped-tight jaw and gray eyes staring daggers at him all suggested he’d interrupted something. Had she been arguing with someone on the phone? Protective instincts flared to life.
    â€œIs everything okay in there?” He stepped closer, trying to look past her into the familiar office interior that he’d seen often enough on his surveillance tapes. Framed prints of the Egyptian pyramids hung next to a map of London highlighting historic pubs.
    â€œEverything is fine.” She spoke the words oddly, like a marionette where the mouth’s movement didn’t quite match up with the sounds. “Especially now that you’re here.”
    â€œI don’t get it.” He didn’t like the brittle set of her shoulders or the flushed color in her cheeks. Was she not feeling well?
    Before he could ask, she raised a silver-tipped dart that he remembered well from an earlier meeting.
    â€œYou’re just in time for target practice while we wait for the cops to arrive.”
    â€œWhat?”
    His confusion only lasted until she arced back her arm and let the missile fly, aiming for his eye.
    Oh, shit.
    Belatedly, he realized her assortment of symptoms pointed to stone-cold fury. All directed at him.
    Luckily she was so angry, that her release point was late and the dart clattered harmlessly to the concrete pavement at his feet.
    â€œHow could you?” she yelled through the narrow opening. Disappearing for a moment, she returned with a whole handful of darts. “You pervert!”
    The darts started flying in earnest now and he took cover against the door.
    Ace detective work told him she’d found his hidden camera.
    â€œMarnie?” He tried leaning into her line of sight between rounds of incoming fire. “Did you really call the cops?”
    That was going to be a nightmare. He had as many enemies on the force as he had friends. With his luck, one of the former would answer the call and gladly lock his ass up for the night until he could straighten away the paperwork.
    â€œOf course.” Another dart.
    He ducked.
    â€œYou can wait with me while the local police bringyou a pair of handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit.” A painted pink stone that he happened to know was her paperweight came hurtling through the opening now, joining the darts on the pavement.
    He heard the stomp of furious footsteps away from the door. Leaning into the vacated space, he used the time to make his case.
    â€œMarnie, wait.” He pulled out his wallet and tossed it inside her storefront where it skidded across the gray commercial carpet and thudded against her ankle. “There’s my ID. I’m a licensed private investigator.”
    She slowed her battle with the buttons on the desk phone. Apparently, she’d been making more calls. To a friend or neighbor? Backup to be sure he stuck around long enough for his own arrest?
    â€œIf that’s true, that sounds only marginally less smarmy than being a complete and total perv.” She cradled the phone against her shoulder and started punching buttons again, this time with slow deliberation.
    â€œPremiere Properties didn’t terminate you because they couldn’t fund your department. They terminated you because of a major embezzlement scam that originated in your sector of the company. You were a prime suspect.”
    She shook her head. Confused. Shocked. He’d seen that expression on people’s faces when he’d worked in homicide and he’d had to face grieving family members to question them. Hell, he still saw that expression as a P.I. when a wife learned her husband had been cheating. He didn’t take jobs like that often, but sometimes hecould be persuaded. Having