Love Can Be Murder

checked the dead bolt with a frown.
    "There's a Juliet balcony off the bedroom, but there's no access to it from the street."
    "Will you show me?"
    She nodded and padded through the mess. When they entered her bedroom, her stomach pitched—her bed linens were torn from the bed, her underwear was hanging out of drawers.
    He opened the doors leading to the tiny balcony, then stepped outside and looked down before stepping back inside and closing the doors. "You should have new locks installed on both doors."
    "Are you kidding? I can't even get lightbulbs installed."
    He turned. "I'm serious."
    She swallowed. "Okay. It's just that Mojo is so...safe."
    "Except for the occasional murder?"
    She winced.
    "Whoever killed your ex-husband is still out there. Do you have something to protect yourself with?"
    Her thoughts strayed to the box of condoms on the dining room table, but she forced herself to focus. "Um...no?"
    He walked back through the apartment to her kitchen. She followed and watched as he pulled out drawers. At length he withdrew a butcher knife and walked back toward her. At the sight of the large knife in his hand, panic sliced through her chest as she once again questioned how much she should trust this man. She took a step backward.
    He stopped, then extended the knife to her, handle first. "Sleep with this...and your cell phone."
    "I don't have one."
    His eyebrows shot up. "Get one. Do you still have my number?"
    She looked around at the mess. "It's here somewhere."
    He wrote it on a piece of paper and handed it to her.
    "Call me if...something comes up. Will you be here tomorrow?"
    She shook her head. "I think I need to be at work. I want to reassure my employees—and my customers—that everything is okay."
    He nodded. "It's best that you stick to your normal schedule as much as possible...if you feel up to it."
    At the concern in his eyes, her senses stirred...until she realized it was the same look he'd had when he'd talked about the missing girl from the flyer. It was B.J. Beaumont's job to rescue people, and she just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time.
    She followed him to the door, her heart clicking in her chest as she reluctantly handed him his leather jacket. "Thank you, B.J. I barely know you, but..." She looked into his dark eyes and felt an entirely inappropriate urge to press her face into his chest. "Thank you for agreeing to help me," she finished lamely.
    He donned his leather coat slowly. "I have to be honest," he said in his cottony drawl, "a business relationship isn't what I had in mind when I first saw you." Then one side of his mouth lifted. "But I'll take it...for now. Sleep tight, Red."
    When the door closed behind him, Penny wanted to run after him. It was, she realized, desperation in the face of turmoil, the compulsion to cling to the most stable thing in sight. Her head buzzed from exhaustion and a host of emotions pulling on her, draining her. She couldn 't bear climbing into the bed that the police had torn apart, so she grabbed her pillow and a blanket and curled up on the couch with her butcher knife and cordless phone, then stared at the shadows on the ceilings. Her mind would not be quieted.
    Deke was dead. The finality of it simply wouldn't sink in. He was too young, too arrogant, too special to die. In truth, her own death would have come as less of a surprise to her, especially considering the environment in which she'd been raised.
    A dark, niggling thought slid to the forefront of her mind: What if the police looked into her background, found out what kind of stock she came from?
    She burrowed further into the couch, making herself as small as possible, closing her eyes tight. If that sordid bit of information came to light, it would virtually notarize her arrest warrant.

Chapter Fifteen

    Make a generous portion because everyone will want some...

    PENNY WAS JARRED AWAKE by a loud clanging noise. She sat straight up, sending the butcher knife and the cordless phone crashing to the floor, her heart in her throat. For a few disoriented seconds, she couldn't remember why she was so afraid...then it all came flooding back...Deke...dead. The phone rang, and she realized with relief it was the noise that had awakened her.
    She stood up, grabbed her aching head, and got to the phone on the fourth ring, wondering what time it was. Daylight was just beginning to filter through the lead glass windows. "Hello?" she croaked.
    "Is this Penny Black?" a man