Silken Threats Read online

Anxious to diffuse the situation, Cassidy stepped in. “Because she wouldn’t do that to us.”

  “And, well—” Lilah broke off. “She’s old.”

  Cassidy wasn’t sure age had anything to do with it but had to agree with Lilah that their sweet, twinkle-of-mischief-in-her-eye landlady seemed unlikely to be hiding secrets.

  Especially secrets that would lead to danger.

  Unwilling to let the jarring impact of the break-in further color her judgment of others—the accusations against Anastasia Monroe already sitting uncomfortably on her conscience—Cassidy held up a hand. “I was already planning on running this month’s rent check over to her during lunch. I’ll ask her about the hole when I go.”

  “You can’t go alone.” Violet’s normally calm features were lined with concern. “Especially not about this.”

  “Look. I’d already promised her I’d repair that tear in her grandmother’s wedding veil, which I was also planning to bring with me. I’ll use that as my way into the conversation. Besides, someone needs to stay here and wait for the alarm people to come check the system and reprogram a new code.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  A small shot of pleasure wove through her at Tucker’s offer before she brushed it off. “I’ll be fine. I don’t want to make too big a deal out of it.”

  “You already said earlier the woman has matchmaking on her mind. We’ll drop a few hints and make eyes at each other to keep her distracted.”

  The image he painted was far more tempting than she wanted to admit, but Cassidy opted for casual nonchalance. “She didn’t get to eighty and remain wily as a coyote because she was dumb and easily played. We’re making too big a deal out of this.”

  A slight grunt from the floor pulled their attention to Max, who tossed a wrench into the box by his side. “Damn thing’s shut tight, cemented into place.”

  The challenge spurred Tucker into action and he joined Max on the floor, both of them searching the small area for a way to get underneath it. Cassidy didn’t miss Violet’s speculative gaze or Lilah’s breathless expectation as the men went to work attempting to get to whatever lay beneath the concrete flooring.

  When they’d made no headway after ten minutes of prodding, tugging and putting their backs into it, the talk drifting to blowtorches and drills, Cassidy finally stepped in. “I’m not comfortable continuing to do this. It’s obvious whatever this space was created for has been sealed over for a reason. We shouldn’t keep prying. I’ll ask Mrs. B. about it.”

  “And I’ll go with you.” Tucker gathered up the various tools he’d pulled out for their attempt at the sealed floor and dropped them into his toolbox, then stood.

  “I really can go alone.”

  “Humor me. You had a big scare this morning and while I believe you when you say your landlady is a sweet woman who is incapable of doing harm, I’d like to see for myself.”

  “Tucker’s got a point,” Lilah piped up. A wicked light filled her dark chocolate gaze, and Cassidy fought the blush that crept up her neck, her cheeks going warm. “Distract Mrs. B. with visions of matchmaking and she’ll answer whatever you want.”

  When Tucker only shoved his hands in his pockets, a small, impish smile on his face, Cassidy gave in. She’d learned long ago how to put a smile on her face and go with the flow.

  She might as well put the skill to good use.

  * * *

  Tucker followed Cassidy’s directions as he threaded through downtown traffic toward one of East Dallas’s oldest and most well-heeled neighborhoods. The trapdoor Max and Violet had discovered in the floor continued to fill his thoughts. “Have you had any other problems since you moved into the shop?”

  “Nothing. We get the same alerts as the rest of the neighborhood when a crime has happened, but for the most part we’ve been left alone.”

  “And no one’s happened by or stopped in to casually ask questions? Maybe ask for directions, then start asking about the building?”

  Tucker stopped at a light and glanced over toward her. The vivid blue of her eyes turned thoughtful before she shook her head. “No, nothing, but I will ask Vi and Lilah if someone’s come in.”

  He didn’t want to scare her but after spending time inside the shop and seeing the destruction with his own eyes, he couldn’t quite chalk it up to a run-of-the-mill burglary attempt.

  “I keep playing it over and over in my mind. I make wedding gowns. Why would someone want to destroy that?”

  “Which takes us back to a competitor.”

  Cassidy let out a hard sigh. “Which doesn’t play for me. I don’t have enemies.”

  Tucker knew it wasn’t that simple, but he opted to hold his tongue as she tried to work through the angles.

  “And then I come back to the alarm. No one has the code except Lilah, Violet and me.”

  “Could either of them have given it out?”

  “Nope. Lilah doesn’t even give it to her delivery teams. If she’s sending a cake out with someone else, she meets them at the store.”

  “You’ve been in business awhile. There’s no chance she gave it to someone she trusts? Someone who’s been dependable trip after trip.”

  “I just don’t see it. In fact, Lilah’s been the one of us who has been the most insistent about not sharing our alarm codes.”

  He filed that one away, as well. The bright, happy baker seemed as if she didn’t have a care in the world, but someone that maniacal about giving an alarm code to what he’d expect were trusted employees seemed a bit off. “Yet someone got the code.”

  “Yes.”

  Cassidy tapped her fingers on her thigh, the nervous motion spearing through his chest. Tamping down on the surprising—and altogether uncomfortable—sensation, he pointed toward an upcoming light. “This is the turn, right?”

  “Yes. Left at the light and then a right at the next one.”

  Tucker moved through the light and drove toward one of the most elite neighborhoods in East Dallas. The homes were old—some of the oldest in the city—and the structures had great bones. Even more apparent was the fact that the owners in Mrs. Beauregard’s neighborhood took care of what was theirs.

  Although he knew he and Cassidy could keep going round and round like this, there didn’t seem to be any answers to their questions. Recognizing this downward spiral, Tucker latched on to the opportunity to shift their focus. “I haven’t been over here before. These homes are spectacular.”

  “Swiss Avenue was one of the city’s first Historic Districts, if not the first.” Her gaze drifted from the passenger window toward a home about half a block away. “Each one’s more beautiful than the next, but that one there on the corner is my favorite.”

  He took in the neoclassic architectural style on the pristine white home that rose three stories and had to give her points for style. “It’s gorgeous.”

  “A glittering diamond among diamonds, but extraspecial somehow.”

  Her murmured words only added to his curiosity, especially combined with his observations of her earlier. Although she gave off the impression of wealth and that subtle society-girl vibe, maybe he was mistaken. “Are you from Dallas?”

  “Born and raised.”

  “What part of the city?”

  “Not too far from here, actually. My mother grew up knowing Mrs. B., and I’ve known her my whole life. She knew about the business we wanted to start and offered us a great deal on the space we lease from her.”

  Bingo.

  Tucker prided himself on his ability to read a situation, and his impression of elegance and money was spot-on, especially if she had grown up nearby.

  “What about you?” Her question pulled him from his musings, and he thought about how to answer what was—at its core—a simple question.

  Even if his ability to gi
ve a casual answer would be a hard-won victory.

  “A bit of a mutt. I moved around as a kid, then settled in upstate New York for high school before going to West Point. And then it was into the military.”

  “You and Max were in the armed forces, right?”

  He couldn’t hold back the cheeky grin at her clear knowledge of his background. “More details from Mrs. B.?”

  “And Violet. That woman’s a walking social network. Not much escapes Vi’s purview.”

  “Yes, we were. Part of the Army Corps of Engineers.”

  As the words came out, Tucker waited for the inevitable drop in her smile—that subtle gesture that indicated she was disappointed he didn’t say they were with the Navy SEALs or Special Ops. His father still wore that look of disappointment every time his career came up.

  “That’s so cool. So you went around blowing up bridges and building dams and stuff.”

  He fought off the surprise at the interest sparking in her words. “A few times. Although I suspect the protectors of said bridges weren’t quite so happy with our efforts.”

  She laughed at that—a deep, throaty chuckle that speared him down deep—before gesturing to the next driveway. “You’ve got a point there. The next one’s Mrs. B.’s.”

  The house was a vision, and his innate appreciation of architectural lines and good old-fashioned home design approved of what he saw. They parked and he came around to help Cassidy out of his SUV.

  The light scent of her—something along the lines of sweet lemons—greeted him, and his gaze caught once more on the vivid color of her hair. Shaking off the flight of fancy, he turned to stare up at the three-story home. “Does Mrs. Beauregard live here alone?”

  “She does now. The girls and I have tried to convince her to get a live-in companion or consider moving but she claims she’s fine.”

  “Max fights the same battle with his grandfather.”

  “He used to date Mrs. B., you know.”

  “How would I know that?”

  A spark of mischief lit her eyes before she concealed them with a pair of sunglasses. “Consider yourself further informed on the Design District gossip chain.”

  “So noted.”

  Cassidy carried the fragile lace veil she’d mentioned earlier in both hands so he moved on ahead to knock on the door. The wide, thick entrance was offset by a large porch. He took in its simple comforts—an oversize porch swing, several plants and a pair of mud-caked garden shoes neatly lined up near the door.

  When no sound echoed from inside, he knocked once more. “She knew you were coming, right?”

  “Yes. I talked to her about it yesterday. She was so excited about getting the veil back.” Her voice remained level, and all hints of mischief in her gaze were gone, replaced by a thin sheen of concern.

  “Is there a back entrance?”

  “Knock once more.”

  He did as she asked, then moved to look in the windows. “I don’t see anyone.”

  “Would you hold this for me?”

  He took the veil, the thin material weightless in his hands as she dug out a cell phone. She tapped the face and in moments he heard the ringing echo through the house. After four rings the phone went to voice mail, and Cassidy redialed once more.

  When the ringing stopped a second time, Cassidy shoved the phone back in her purse and reached for the door. “This isn’t like her.”

  She knocked before trying the handle, a small moue of surprise springing to her lips when the door slid open.

  “Wait.” Tucker handed back the fragile lace before moving through the door. Concern had filled him on his walk through Cassidy’s shop this morning, but a decided sense of menace crept down his spine as he moved through Mrs. B.’s neat home. Foyer. Living room. Kitchen.

  Cassidy saw the woman a split second before he did. She cried out before racing for the prone figure lying in front of the oven.

  Chapter 3

  Cassidy fought back the wave of terror creeping up her throat as she raced toward Mrs. Beauregard. Please let her be okay. Please. Please. The words pounded through her mind with the heavy tread of Thoroughbreds as memories of another day rose up and threatened to swamp her with grief.

  “Mrs. B.!” The older woman had a sturdy frame, and Cassidy knelt beside her, running her hands over her shoulders, arms, then face. “Mrs. B.!”

  Cassidy probed still-warm flesh, her limbs shaking as she sought evidence of life. Abstractly, she heard Tucker on the phone calling for emergency assistance.

  Nothing...nothing...and there.

  Thin and faint, she paused until she could calm herself enough to finally recognize a pulse.

  “She’s alive.”

  Tucker knelt on the other side of Mrs. B. and leaned his head toward her face. “I can feel her breath. It’s faint and slow, but I can hear it, too.”

  Her touch was gentle, but Cassidy kept pressing Mrs. B.’s arm and squeezing her hand, all the while murmuring the woman’s name to get her to wake up. Tucker vanished, but returned a few moments later with a thick throw that had lain over the sofa in the living room. “Let’s get her wrapped up.”

  She sat back on her heels as he wrapped the blanket around Mrs. Beauregard, then settled a small couch pillow under the woman’s head. The soft sound of sirens echoed in the distance, growing louder by the second.

  “Stay here with her, I’ll go meet them.”

  She watched him leave the kitchen, her gaze trailing after his large, capable form. They’d met under the strangest circumstances—shocking ones, even—yet she was more than grateful for his presence.

  For how right it felt to have him there.

  A light moan pulled her from her thoughts, and she squeezed Mrs. B.’s hand as another moan—louder this time—fell from the woman’s lips. “Shh. Shh now.”

  Thin, blue-veined lids fluttered open, Mrs. B.’s normally vibrant green eyes filled with pain and confusion. “What happened?” She blinked once. Twice. “Cassidy?”

  “It’s me, Mrs. B. Shh, now. You’re all right.”

  Mrs. B.’s eyes darted left and right and her breathing hitched as she grew more agitated. “But what happened?”

  “It’s okay now. We don’t know what happened, but the ambulance is almost here. We’re going to get you checked out and you’ll be fine.”

  She crooned a few nonsense words, pleased when she heard Tucker’s directions echoing from the front of the house.

  The paramedics moved in, and she stood up to give them access. A large man, his dark blue T-shirt stretched tight against his chest, took charge immediately as he knelt next to Mrs. Beauregard. Cassidy gave the team room to work and took a spot beside Tucker.

  It was several long minutes later that she looked down to realize her hand was firmly clenched in his.

  * * *

  Tucker and Cassidy followed the paramedics from the house. The ambulance had just pulled away, the team having confirmed the emergency room where they were taking Mrs. Beauregard, when Max pulled up in his sports car. The two-seater was anything but practical, but Lilah and Violet didn’t seem to notice as they tumbled out of the passenger seat.

  Questions carried across the yard as the women raced toward Cassidy before they surrounded her in a tight embrace.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Max’s gaze stayed steady on the trio of women before giving Tucker his full attention.

  “I’ll be damned if I know.”

  “Did you get anything from their landlady?”

  “She was pretty out of it.” Those first few moments in Mrs. B.’s kitchen rolled through his thoughts, the shock and horror of finding the woman. “I’m just glad she’s alive.”

  Max’s face set in stoic lines, concern etching his tanned skin. “Don’t tell me you’re th
inking this was a coincidence.”

  “I’ve never put much stock in coincidence.”

  “I fiddled a bit more with that panel in the floor.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing. It’s cemented tight and won’t budge.” Max paused a moment before pressing on. “I stopped short of jackhammering it but it smacks of something curious.”

  “So why now? Unless they’re damn good actresses, Cassidy and her partners obviously weren’t aware of the hole. Besides, they’ve been there for a few years already. If they were responsible, they could have dug it up at any point and without destroying things. So who suddenly decided to go digging for whatever’s been hidden?”

  Snippets of the conversation between the women floated toward them on the rising heat of the day. Their concern for Mrs. Beauregard had faded to speculation on what might have happened. Tucker missed the specifics of their discussion, but he didn’t miss Cassidy’s hard head shake or the shrug of her shoulders in response to her friend’s questions.

  He suspected she didn’t believe in coincidences, either.

  “They make quite a sight.” Max’s voice was low, hovering in the register he’d perfected when they were on active duty. Only this time there was a layer of intrigue that spoke of anything but the enemy.

  “A beautiful trio.”

  Tucker wasn’t sure if he realized it, but Max mentioned Violet every time he came back from one of the Design District’s business meetings. He’d never mentioned the other women, but now that he’d met them all, Tucker saw what a team they made.

  A competent and beautiful one.

  Their conversation faded as the women moved toward them as a unit.

  “We’re going to head to the hospital. Would one of you mind taking us?” Cassidy’s brow furrowed. “Mrs. B. doesn’t have any children and we don’t know who else to call. We don’t want her to be alone.”

  “I’ll do it.” Tucker ignored the subtle lift of his friend’s eyebrows, satisfying himself that his quick reaction was tied to the knowledge his SUV offered better transportation than Max’s two-seater. “Max can follow us with the keys after the locksmith gets here.”