Hart To Hart Page 2

  So, when El had called him this morning, he’d been stunned. In fact, he failed to live up to his nickname of Iceman, acting like a teenage boy having a girl ask him to his first prom.

  Vic took a last look in the bathroom mirror and headed back to his office. Sharon, his secretary, was at her desk playing solitaire on the computer. When he’d hired her, she’d been rather conservative with mousy brown hair. Last week, she’d had it styled and streaked blue. He had to admit, he liked the new Sharon better.

  He probably should suggest she work on organizing the files since business had slowed with the onset of winter, but he didn’t want to lose her. She had her strengths. His main goal wasn’t to make a big profit anyway. Between his pension from the FBI and the money he’d saved while he was in the service, he could afford to retire—he just didn’t want to.

  Before he reached the hallway, the bell above the front door rang. Jitters swamped him. El was here. He spun around. Had the five years since he’d seen his wife—or rather his ex-wife—been kind to her? His hadn’t been.

  El entered. Holy shit, but she was hot. He wasn’t pleased about her downcast eyes, but the rest of her made him stand at attention. Her hips were wider than he remembered, but the extra weight was balanced well with her enlarged breasts. Even more positive was that her face had finally filled out. From all the worry he’d caused her when they were more or less together, she’d lost too much weight. He never was the type to like a woman who was all skin and bones. He wanted to be with someone who had womanly curves.

  She looked good with the short hair, too. While he couldn’t be certain, it looked as if there might be some auburn highlights in it, which went well with her warm skin tone.

  Stop it. She’s a client.

  “Hello, El.” Thankfully, Vic was able to keep his voice from cracking.

  She glanced up, stilled, and studied him. “Vic.”

  Sharon glanced between them, and he held up a hand before she spoke. “I’ll escort Ms. Hart into my office.” Vic had a hard time not staring at his former wife. She was more beautiful than ever. “How’s Charlotte?” he asked as he led her down the hallway.

  “Fine, but then you know that since you speak with her all the time.”

  Shit. She was going to make it difficult for him. “Trying to make up for lost time, that’s all.” Once in the office, he pulled out the wooden chair across from his desk. He’d purposefully bought one that wasn’t particularly comfortable so his clients wouldn’t linger. Now, he could see a nicer chair was in his future. “Let me take your coat and hang it up.”

  El held up her hands as if his mere touch would scorch her. “I won’t be staying long.”

  The jab pierced his heart. He honestly didn’t deserve any better treatment. He’d been a shitty husband, putting country above his family. He dragged his chair from behind his desk and sat across from her, not wanting to put any more distance between them. “You mentioned over the phone that you’ve had a few misfortunes.” Charlotte called it a stalker, but he wanted to hear what El thought. “How would you assess the threat level?”

  It was nice to be able to use the lingo and not have to worry if his client understood.

  “It’s hard to say. I’m thinking it might be several different people. In any case, I want this to stop.”

  “Understood. How serious is it? Have you been physically harmed?” His throat tightened at the thought.

  “There’d been no contact with me or my property until a few days ago when my tires were slashed—possibly by some local gang, so I’d have to rate this a yellow. It’s not even orange because I’ve never seen this person nor has he threatened me bodily harm.” She lifted her chin.

  “Does this mystery man have a name?”

  “How can he if I don’t know who he is?”

  “Sorry.” Shit. He hadn’t been thinking. Not having a clue as to the man’s identity would make the search more difficult but not impossible. “Start from the beginning and leave nothing out. Do you mind if I record this?” He tapped his forehead. “Memory’s going. Old age.” His smile was not returned. Damn.

  “Go ahead.” El began her tale. With each word, his desire to punch something grew.

  It wasn’t so much what she told him, but the way she was fidgeting with the buttons on her coat that let him know this person was getting inside her head. Vic wanted to reach out and grab her hand for comfort, but he wouldn’t. Clearly, his former wife was ill at ease around him, and he didn’t want to make this worse for her.

  “I’m very sorry, El. You said you confided in Henry?”

  She blinked. “Do you mean Hilton?”

  Shit. “Yes. Hilton.” At least he hadn’t called him hotel.

  “I have.”

  “Any chance he’s your flower-giving, tire-slashing man?”

  El sat up straighter. “Absolutely not. He has no motive.”

  Vic could think of a few reasons why Hilton might want to scare her. One could be that he wanted to buy her out. El would say no, of course, because she loved the gallery more than life itself. The only option left would be to drive her out—make her leave town. On the other hand, it could also be that Hilton wanted to get into her pants, and if El had turned him down in the past, it might have pissed him off. Or perhaps she’d slept with him already and now he wanted more.

  Don’t go there.

  Fuck. Maybe agreeing to take her case wasn’t a good idea after all.

  “Who else might want to upset you? Although, the flowers imply this person wants you.”

  “One would think, but the creepy emails and texts suggest the person is merely watching me, trying to freak me out.”

  “Good point.”

  They spent a better part of an hour discussing her case and what she’d like him to do. With the sources he still had from his FBI days, he figured he could have this wrapped up in a couple of days. His best chance of finding this person would come from the emails, as he doubted he’d get access to any phone records.

  It was still early in the day, yet El looked exhausted already. The fact she kept her coat on the whole time implied she was chomping at the bit to leave, but he wanted to be cordial.

  “Where are you staying?”

  “At the Park Hotel. I don’t want to drive the two hours back to Charlotte’s.”

  “Nice place.” Vic was pleased she was doing well enough to afford the best. He glanced at the clock on his computer. “It’s almost noon. Do you want to grab a bite to eat?”

  El pushed back her chair. “Vic. Let’s get one thing straight. I didn’t come here to rekindle what we once had. If you must know, Charlotte insisted I let you handle my case. I agreed only because I trust you’ll do a good job.”

  At least he’d maintained his integrity in her eyes over the years, but the rejection still stung. He pulled his business card from his desk, scribbled his cell phone number on the back, and handed it to her. “Call me in a few days to check on my progress.” He smiled. “Unless you’d like me to call you.”

  If her body got any stiffer, he’d have worried she’d be unable to walk. “I’ll call. And thank you. I’m sure you’re busy.”

  El spun on her heels and strode out. The big question was there anything he could do to convince her to stay?

  * * *

  Ellie could barely breathe. As she rushed to her rental car, cold air snaked down her lungs. She’d prepared herself to be put off by the burns on Vic’s neck and jaw, but damn it, if it didn’t make him look sexier. He’d lost weight, but given he’d played a homeless man for a while it was understandable. When he pulled out her chair, the sight of his muscles bulging under his cuffs along with his flat abs—something she’d always been a sucker for—took her back to the good old days when she ate lust for breakfast.

  Stop it.

  Vic never made her his priority when they were married, and men like that never changed—it was built into their DNA. He might not be part of the U.S. government any longer, but he had his own
company, and Hart’s Investigations had probably become his new mistress. Ellie had to let him do his job and find the identity of her stalker. Then she’d say thank you, pay him, and return to Charlotte’s to finish her vacation—assuming he found the culprit quickly.

  Her stomach grumbled. Needing food, but not wanting to run into Vic, she drove down the streets of Rock Hard looking for a place where he’d never frequent. The Happy Carrot Restaurant was perfect. Vic loved meat. Any kind of meat. He ate vegetables only because they were good for him, not because he liked the taste.

  Not wanting to chance Vic finding her, she parked two blocks away and walked to the restaurant. By the time she stepped inside, she was chilled to the bone. It wasn’t so much the dampness as the wind that sliced through her jacket and up her pant legs.

  The walls were painted orange—not a big surprise there—and were covered in cute paintings of knife wielding vegetables battling cows and pigs. The artwork was surprisingly good.

  Only about five people were seated. Once she was shown to her table, she ordered a coffee and checked the menu. Impressed with the selections, she decided on a robust salad.

  The waitress returned with her coffee and took her order. While Ellie waited for the food to arrive, she checked her emails, expecting something from Charlotte. Her daughter would want to know how the meeting went with Vic. As Ellie scrolled through the list, one message popped out. The subject line read: How’s Charlotte?

  Her heart turned cold. “No.”

  A passing waitress stopped. “Ma’am? Are you all right?”

  Ellie looked up. “Yes. Thank you.”

  As soon as the server left, Ellie flicked the screen to read the message: How’s the weather in Montana?

  Chills cascaded down her body. There was no signature. How did he know she’d come here? She placed her phone on the table and brought the cup to her lips, hoping the warmth would help stop her shivering. When liquid sloshed over the edge, slightly burning her fingers, she set it down. Fuck. Who was doing this? And why?

  She hadn’t pissed anyone off—at least not that she was aware of. Sure, Hilton was interested in a more intimate relationship, but he totally understood that she wanted to pour her energies into the gallery. She wasn’t opposed to dating someone ten years older, but he was more of a friend than a lover. He couldn’t be behind this. Mentally, she scratched him off the list of suspects.

  Ellie hadn’t dated that many men in the last five years. Hell, she could count them on one hand. Three had dumped her. That left Hilton—who she really hadn’t dated—and Brian, but he was too by the book to do something as underhanded and passive aggressive as this.

  She chanced another sip of her coffee, and the strong chicory perked up her brain. As much as she didn’t want to run back to Vic, she had hired him to find this person. If Vic could trace the email to a specific computer and then to the perpetrator, she could be out of his life again sooner rather than later.

  Ellie fished out Vic’s card and called him. As the phone rang, her pulse turned erratic. Stupid body. It must be the altitude.

  “El? What’s wrong?”

  She stilled. Vic must have put her cell number in his phone already. “I got another email.” She appreciated his urgency, but it scared her at the same time. “I’m at The Happy Carrot Restaurant. Can you come over?”

  “Sure.” Vic disconnected.

  She leaned back in her seat, picked up her cup again, and held it for support. Seconds later, Vic materialized in front of her. “How did you get here so fast?” she asked.

  He smiled. “Been sitting on the other side of the restaurant for about five minutes. You need to be more aware of your surroundings, El.”

  She glanced around and spotted a table with a steaming cup of coffee on it. “You eat here?” Or had he followed her?

  “Yup. Ever since my cholesterol turned dangerously high. It sucks getting old.”

  He’d just turned fifty a month ago. She’d warned him about his bad eating habits until she’d grown tired, but he never listened back then. “You okay, now?”

  “Worried about me?” He cocked a brow and one side of his mouth lifted.

  Grr. Why did he have to turn everything into something personal? Just because they were married for nineteen years didn’t give him the right to pretend the last five years hadn’t happened.

  “I worry about everyone.” That seemed to be a safe answer.

  He nodded at her phone. “May I see the email?”

  She found the message, and then handed it to him. He sat across from her. “Who did you tell you were coming here?”

  “Hilton, of course. And Wendy. She’s teaching my class at the gallery while I’m gone.”

  “Wendy Jackson?”

  She’d forgotten that he’d known her from when they were married. “Yes.”

  “Who else?”

  Ellie bit down on her lip, running through her last two days in Virginia. “I asked my neighbor, Mrs. Albright, to report any suspicious behavior at my place while I’m gone. She’s seventy-four. While she has cataracts and is a bit hard of hearing, she spends her days sitting in front of her window watching who comes and goes. I know for a fact she doesn’t own a cell phone or a computer.”

  “I take it you asked her whether she saw anyone deliver flowers to your place?”

  “I did, but she said she’d been napping at that time.”

  The waitress brought Vic’s coffee over to their table. “You ordering lunch, Vic?”

  “I’ll have my usual.”

  The girl smiled. “You got it.”

  Who was this man? “You really eat here a lot?”

  “I’ve changed quite a few things in my life, but right now, we need to find your stalker.”

  “Thank you.” She was pleased he was interested in locating this man. “Short of flying to Virginia, how are you going to do that?”

  “First, I’ll forward this message to my phone. Mind?”

  “No.”

  He tapped a few keys. “Next, I’ll check the IP address it was sent from and see if I can get the video feeds from the source. The message is time stamped, so that will help. I have a friend in Washington on retainer. She should be able to narrow it down to the specific computer used.”

  She? The unexpected shot of jealousy stunned her and was totally uncalled for. Having someone on retainer meant he paid her not slept with her. “How long should that take?”

  “Amy’s good. I bet she’ll know something by tonight.”

  Damn him. After the divorce, he’d dated an Amy Sanchez, but Ellie wouldn’t ask if she was the same woman. As long as this person was competent, that was all that mattered.

  Their food arrived quickly. Crap. Now she’d have to wait until he finished eating his large meal. Vic leaned back in his seat and ran his gaze up and down her body.

  “Other than the dark circles under your eyes, which I suspect are most likely attributed to these recent events, you look good, El. The life of a gallery owner must agree with you.”

  Heat flushed her face. She didn’t need his compliments, which in the past had been few and far between. He’d always told her that if he let his sentiments show, it would make his job more difficult because the thought of her would distract him.

  “It does.” This wasn’t a date, though she had to admit she was curious about him. Not to mention, she wanted to get the attention off her. “Did it hurt?”

  His hand raced to his neck. “This?”

  “Yes.”

  “Like a bitch, though I was lucky. The terrorists beat me senseless first, so I was passed out when the burning board landed on me.”

  She hissed at the horror. “I’m sorry.”

  He lifted one shoulder. “Part of the job.”

  That was his standard refrain. She leaned forward. “Didn’t it bother you? You act as if the burn was nothing more than a speed bump in your life. Weren’t you ever scared that these men would come back and kill you?” Her voice had escalated
and a few of the patrons glanced her way. Stupid man. She wanted to shake him.

  There been a time when Vic Hart was loving and sensitive. Then the war happened, followed by his stint in the FBI. When he turned cold inside, she’d spent years trying to warm him up. She failed.

  “I can handle myself.”

  Sure he could. Just like he’d handled his daughter rejecting him. “How did you get Charlotte to change her mind about you?”

  “Aren’t we inquisitive today? I thought I was just a hired hand.” He inhaled. “Sorry, that was uncalled for. I played the poor me card with her. Told her the FBI didn’t have a use for me anymore and that I was sorry I treated her poorly.”

  Vic would never do that. “Liar.”

  He leaned back and grinned. “Caught me. I’m pleased you don’t think I’ve slept with the devil. I do have feelings. I just hide them. However, the part about apologizing to Charlotte was true. She deserved a good dad and I was never there for her. I honestly didn’t expect her to ever speak to me again. She’s a good kid.”

  “That she is.”

  “I give you all the credit.”

  This conversation was not where she wanted to tread. Besides, Vic needed to contact Amy, not rehash old times. Ellie hurried to finish her salad. When she was done, she waved to the waitress for the check.

  “I got this,” Vic said drawing a wallet out of his back pocket.

  “Oh, no you don’t. I’m in charge here. You work for me.”

  He laughed. “You’re in charge? You do have a faulty memory. You loved it when I would arrest you for indecent exposure and then show you the errors of your ways.” He winked.

  A flood of images bombarded her. Naked ones. Bound. Seduced. Ravished. If she thought her face flushed before, this time flames licked her cheeks, as well as a few other body parts. “That was the past. I’ve changed.”

  “If you say so.”

  Smartass. Ellie wiped her mouth with her napkin then pushed back her chair and stood. “Let me know what you find out.” She nabbed her jacket from the back of the chair and rushed out, not daring to look back.