“You’re going to have to learn to trust me a little.” Remi held her other hand as well. “I’m not asking to use your answers against you.”
“I know that, but I’m under contract with him, and I just want to go back to work. When I’m filming, Bob usually entertains himself doing something else.”
She sounded like a battered wife who was used to making excuses for her deadbeat husband. Remi didn’t understand why Bob would still be in Dallas’s life, since no contract was that ironclad anymore if someone in Dallas’s position wanted to break it. The information her father had given her the night before at first made her think this was a setup, but now, looking at Dallas in the morning light, Remi thought Bob seemed more like a pimp than a law-enforcement partner. “If you want, I can arrange for Bob to entertain himself permanently away from you.”
Dallas shook her head and grabbed the front of Remi’s shirt until she was wrinkling the material. “What do you mean?”
“I’m more of a manager than an attorney these days, but I’m sure if I asked Dwayne and Steve, they can make any deal Bob struck with you go away. Loyalty to someone who helped you get started doesn’t mean they have the right to do this to you, Dallas.” Remi skimmed the tips of her fingers over the bruise. “No one has the right to do this to you, for any reason.”
“You may not think I’m all right, but I am. If you want to help me, forget about this and leave Bob out of it.”
Remi didn’t move back, and even though Dallas was pressed up against her, she was out of reach. It would take more than one talk to get her to see reason, if she ever would. Bob had been there from the beginning of Dallas’s career, and God only knew how long before that. It’d take drastic measures to flush him out.
“Do you want me to go?” Remi asked. She was willing to wait until Dallas was ready.
“I wouldn’t blame you,” Dallas said in a whisper. “This whole thing is my problem, and you don’t need to get involved.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Remi combed away some of the hair that had fallen into Dallas’s face. “We’ll take this slow, but it’s important for you to tell me what you want, so…” She gently brought Dallas’s head up by putting her fingers under her chin. “Do you want me to go?”
“I want you to stay.”
“Good, now how about a shower, a comfortable pair of jeans, and a stack of pancakes from the Camellia Grill?”
“You like pancakes?”
“There’s nothing in the world maple syrup can’t cure.” They held hands to the door, and once they were inside Remi noticed the discarded coffee cup. “Go on and I’ll make you a fresh cup.” As Dallas reached the stairs, Remi couldn’t help but give in to her impulses. “While you’re up there, why not pack a bag for a few days?”
“Where am I going?”
“Some place where I know you’ll be safe.”
Dallas closed her eyes and held her breath for a long while. “Are you playing savior today?”
She didn’t ask the question in anger or disgust, and Remi didn’t take it that way. “If I said yes, I’m guessing that’d be the wrong answer.”
“Not if it’s the truth. I’m just wondering what happens tomorrow when you put your cape away?” she asked like a woman used to disappointment. “Maybe you should take your own advice to go slow.”
“How about we make a deal instead?” Remi walked across the kitchen and held her hand out. “I won’t jump to any conclusions about you, if you give me the same consideration. If we try to do that, tomorrow won’t be a problem.”
“Deal.” Dallas shook her hand.
Remi watched her climb the stairs and smiled at how relieved Dallas had appeared right before she left the room. She still had her doubts, which made what she had in mind totally ludicrous, but that wasn’t important right now.
“I was raised by a gambler,” she told the coffee pot, “and Ramon always says to be a good gambler, you have to take chances.” Letting Dallas in this much would definitely qualify.
Chapter Thirty-One
“What time do you want me there in the morning?” Anthony asked Juan as they headed to the airport. Because of Rodolfo’s displeasure that Juan had hired him and their dinner the night before with Nunzio Luca, Rodolfo was sending Juan home. In the short time Anthony had spent with Juan, though, he knew Juan would never go, and he was right.
“You weren’t paying attention, Mr. FBI?” Juan asked, sounding pissed. Since they’d pulled away from the Piquant, Juan had stared out the window and slapped his hand against his leg. “I’ve told you a hundred times already, and if you didn’t understand, maybe I fucked up by hiring you. Maybe Casey was right when she said you’re all a bunch of dumb fucks.”
“Cain Casey is about as smart as a bag of shit. She has more luck than brains, I assure you.” Anthony tried not to let his bias show, but when Juan smiled at him for the first time that day, he knew he’d failed miserably. “Do you want me to do anything about her while you’re gone?”
“Don’t worry about Cain. I’ve got that covered.”
“But if you’re not here, don’t you want to make sure it’s done right?”
Juan quit staring out the window and faced him. “You just worry about what I asked you to do and forget the rest.”
