Too Hot to Handle Page 5
Steven gently brushed her hair back with his fingers. "Lila, there is someone you suspect, though, isn't there? Someone who you're sure is capable of violence."
Lila's chin trembled. Steven was right . . . there was one person. She pressed her bottom lip between her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to push back the terrible memory that hovered at the edge of her mind. She didn't want to drag it out into the open. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "I don't know anyone. . . ."
Steven wrapped his arms around her. "Please tell me," he prodded. "Help me find the person who destroyed your home."
Lila drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly. "There is one person," she began. "A guy who . . . um, did get violent."
'Who?" Steven asked.
Lila swallowed hard. "John Pfeifer has been known to get rough on occasion."
Steven glanced at his notes. "One of the guys you went out with," he said, nodding.
Lila shrugged, hoping to cover up the churning emotions inside her. "John Pfeifer is a nobody."
"Did he ever get rough with you?" Steven asked.
"Maybe . . ." Lila nervously ran her tongue over the back of her teeth. "It was no big deal," she lied.
"Let me decide that," Steven said. "What happened?"
"It was nothing," Lila countered. She reached for Steven's shoulders, hoping to distract him from his current line of questioning.
But Steven caught her hands and held them fast. "Lila, if you don't tell me anything, how can I help you?"
Lila's eyes filled with tears. "Just holding me would be a big help," she said softly.
Steven shook his head. "We have to work this through," he insisted. He raised her hands to his lips and kissed them. "I'm here for you, Lila. But you have to trust me."
Lila sniffed. "I do trust you, Steven," she replied shakily. "But I'm trying so hard to put my life together again, to feel safe. . . ." She looked around the pool house, where she'd been living since the fire. Jessica had tried to convince her to move in with the Wakefields until her parents returned, but Lila wanted to be in her own home—or at least what was left of it. She desperately wanted things to be normal again.
"I promise, you will be safe," Steven said, his voice low and urgent. "As soon as we catch the person who set fire to your house and is trying to frame you for the crime."
Lila nodded reluctantly. "I know. And I can't tell you how much it means to me to have you here. But I've tried so hard to forget about John . . . about what he did to me. . . ." Her voice broke on a sob.
Steven cupped her chin with his hands. "Tell me about it," he whispered.
Lila looked into Steven's deep brown eyes. She wanted to tell him the whole truth, but she was afraid he would think less of her once he knew. Others had been quick to blame her for what had happened. Lila felt a tear slip down her cheek. What if Steven says it was all my fault . . . and walks out on me like everyone else? she worried.
"Don't be afraid, Lila," Steven whispered. "It's going to be OK. I promise."
Lila nodded. She had to trust Steven completely. There was no one else on her side. "I went out with John some time ago," she began, her voice thin and weak.
"Go on," Steven said encouragingly.
Lila swallowed hard and continued. "I was caught totally off guard by him," she admitted. "John had always seemed like such a nice guy. He was quiet, serious, and smart. He's the sports editor for the Oracle, and back when . . ." She paused.
"Go on," Steven prompted.
"When John and I started . . . um . . . getting close, he'd just won a special internship in the sports department of the L.A. Sun." Lila sniffed. "I was flattered that a guy like that would be interested in me."
"Did you go out with him for very long?" Steven asked gently.
Lila uttered a bitter laugh. "One date," she replied. "We went out for dinner, then took a drive to Miller's Point."
"Is that when he became . . . rough?" Steven asked.
Lila nodded. Memories flooded back to her, the shock and the fear. She felt as if she were in a trance as the story tumbled out. "We were in his car and John wanted to take things further than I was willing to go," she said. "He kissed me so hard, he knocked my head against the door frame. I told him to stop, but he laughed and told me to quit teasing him. When I tried to back away, he grabbed my hair and yanked me toward him."
A fierce look came into Steven's eyes. "Guys like that . . . ," he spat, clenching his fist.
Lila shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. Despite Steven's obvious concern and support, she felt frozen and alone—the same way she'd felt after that horrible night. "I managed to get away from him," she continued. "But my whole world felt totally shattered."
Steven touched the side of her face and smiled gently. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."
Lila's eyes filled with hot tears. "It was so—" She sniffed loudly. "I was so alone. Like now."
"Not now," Steven whispered, taking her into his arms. "You're not alone."
Lila closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, letting Steven's warmth soothe and comfort her.
"What happened after that night?" Steven asked. "It's really important that you tell me everything, Lila."
She nodded and exhaled slowly. "I didn't tell anyone at first because I didn't think anyone would believe me. Also—" Her voice broke on a sob. "I was afraid everyone would say that I got what I deserved, because it was my idea to go to Miller's Point."
Steven shook his head emphatically. "That doesn't make it your fault. He's the jerk for not respecting your limits."
Lila sniffed loudly. His words warmed her heart and gave her strength. "Thank you for saying that, Steven."
"I mean it," he said.
Lila gave him a watery smile. "I know you do. Anyway, after that night, I wanted to forget the whole thing. But then John came to my house a few nights later while I was giving a party, and acted as if nothing had happened."
Steven grimaced as if he'd just tasted something rotten. "What a slime!"
"I know," Lila replied weakly. "Finally, I realized I couldn't keep it a secret anymore. I had to speak out, but I was so afraid. Then another girl came forward and admitted that John had also attacked her. We got together and confronted him publicly, at the Dairi Burger."
"What did he do?" Steven asked.
Lila's heart pounded as she relived those moments when she'd marched right over to John Pfeifer in the crowded Sweet Valley hangout. "He tried to deny everything," she said. "But in the end, everyone at SVH supported us against him."
"Was he formally charged with anything?" Steven inquired.
Lila sighed wearily and shook her head. "No, but everyone knows he tried to rape me. John Pfeifer has been pretty much an outcast ever since."
"That might be a strong motive for revenge," Steven remarked.
Lila immediately jerked upright, her heart leaping to her throat. "Do you think it's possible that John might be out to get me?"
Steven took her into his arms and held her tightly. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this," he promised. "I won't let anyone hurt you again."
Lila's hands trembled as she clasped Steven's strong shoulders. "I'm so afraid," she cried.
Wednesday morning, Devon woke up disoriented. Lying in the strange brass bed, he stared at the yellow ceiling above his head and tried to remember where he was. A motel? he wondered.
He pushed himself into a sitting position and rubbed his hand over his eyes. The decor of the room was starkly masculine, and there was a chocolate brown satin comforter on the bed. Bright sunlight streamed in through the casement windows along the east wall. Devon yawned deeply and stretched his arms over his head. As he became alert, he remembered where he was and the events of the previous evening that had brought him there. I found my uncle Pete, he thought happily.
Devon tried to rein in his hopes. Nothing had been permanently settled yet, of course. But Devon longed for the time when it might become routine to wake up in this bed, in this room, and get ready for school. . . .
As soon as he was convinced of his uncle's sincerity, Devon would start the process of naming Pete as his legal guardian—and collect the first ten million his father had left him.
Devon pushed back the satin comforter and got out of bed. After a quick shower in the adjoining bathroom, he got dressed and followed the scent of fresh coffee to the kitchen. Like the rest of the apartment, it was sleek and modern, done in shades of black and beige.
He was surprised to find his uncle already sitting at the table, hunched over a newspaper. Devon's new room was right across from Pete's study. Devon had overheard him in there making phone calls long into the night.
Pete looked up from his newspaper. "Glad to see you're an early riser," he said. "I was afraid you'd be one of those spoiled rich boys that have to be dragged out of bed every morning."
"On the weekends, sometimes," Devon admitted. He helped himself to a cup of coffee and sat down across from his uncle. "I guess I should check out the local high school," he said with some hesitation. Enrolling in a new school was a major commitment; it meant that he intended to stay on permanently. Is that what my uncle wants too? Devon wondered.
Pete looked at him incredulously. "Why?"
Devon lifted the coffee cup to his lips and studied his uncle over the rim. "You don't think I should count on being here too long?" he asked directly, dreading the answer.
"I don't think you need it," Pete clarified, surprising him. "You seem smart enough to me already. Believe me, you'll learn a lot more by sticking with me, kid Real life is the best classroom in the world. Las Vegas is a laboratory for the study of higher mathematics and human psychology."
Devon took a sip of coffee and set the cup down. He'd never seriously considered dropping out of school. His parents would've had a fit. But maybe Uncle Pete is right, Devon reasoned. The more he thought about it, the more the idea appealed to him. "I suppose I could take the high-school equivalency exam when I turn eighteen and go straight to college when I'm ready," he said.
"Sure, whatever," Pete said breezily. "The sky is the limit and you're in the pilot's seat. I won't ask a thing from you, because I can see you've got a good head on your shoulders. You'll be fine no matter what you do."
Devon smiled. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
Pete pushed aside his newspaper and reached for his coffee cup. "You have total freedom here—no curfews or third degree about where you're going or with whom." His lips twisted into a crooked smile. "Believe me, I know what it's like to live with people who try to control your every move."
Devon nodded. "My parents flipped back and forth between trying to control me and ignoring me. I'm not sure which was worse," he admitted.
Pete gave him an understanding look. "Sounds like the typical Whitelaw upbringing. But you survived it, which is something to be proud of, kid."
Deeply touched, Devon swallowed against the lump in his throat. Someone actually understands how it was for me, he thought. This is what family is all about.
Devon finished the rest of his coffee and carried the cup to the sink. He turned on the water and began washing the cup, hoping to demonstrate that he didn't consider himself a guest.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" his uncle protested.
Devon turned to him and shrugged. "Just thought I'd clean up after myself."
Pete shook his head, frowning. "I pay a very efficient lady to do that sort of thing. You trying to put her out of a job?"
Devon turned off the faucet and dried his hands, leaving the dirty cup in the sink. Obviously it was going to take a while to get the hang of things in his new home, and to figure out what his uncle expected of him. "Are you sure you don't want me to do my fair share, or help out with a few expenses?" he asked.
His uncle chuckled. "You're OK, kid. I appreciate the thought, but I don't want your money. And I especially don't want you making my cleaning lady nervous about her job. I like having you around, that's enough."
Devon felt a warm glow in response. "Maybe I can repay you by fixing you up with Linda," he suggested, half jokingly.
Pete raised his eyebrows. "I wish you could, but I'm afraid it's hopeless."
"It's only hopeless if you don't try," Devon countered, wondering where that sentiment came from. He'd always considered himself to be cynical and cool. When did I turn into such an optimist? he thought.
Pete shook his head. "I have tried," he insisted. "I'll show you." He got up and left the room.
Devon watched him go, puzzling over the situation. His uncle seemed more like a high-school kid than a sophisticated Vegas gambler. Amazing what a woman can do to a guy, he thought wryly.
Pete returned to the kitchen with a small package wrapped in silver paper. "I bought this for her last week, but I can't get up the courage to give it to her. She'd probably throw it in my face anyway."
"Why don't you mail it to her?" Devon asked.
Pete curled his fingers around the gift. "She'd probably chuck it into the nearest trash can without opening it," he muttered. "But I have an idea. Why don't you hold on to this, and if you see her later . . ." He shrugged and shot Devon a hopeful look.
Devon frowned. "Where would I see her?"
"You never know." Pete placed the package in Devon's hands and winked. "Vegas is full of surprises, kid."
Devon closed his fist around the gift and made himself a promise. If helping Pete win back Linda is the only way I can return his hospitality, then that's exactly what I'm going to do! Devon vowed.
Chapter 4
Surrounded by bright lights, glitzy people, and gambling fervor, Devon held his breath as a pair of dice tumbled across the green baize of the craps table. The shooter was an elderly man dressed in a pale blue polyester leisure suit that was probably from the late 1970s. Devon had a twenty-dollar bet riding on the outcome of the man's turn.
It was early afternoon, but it made no difference. People were decked out in evening wear, most with an alcoholic drink in their hand. No matter the time of day, indoors in a Las Vegas casino seemed to be a consistent experience. Devon himself was wearing a dark blue, three-piece Armani suit borrowed from his uncle. Pete had insisted that projecting a suave, glitzy image was absolutely necessary. "The women will fall at your feet, and the casino pit bosses will favor you with comp dinners and show tickets," he'd told Devon.
The tension around the craps table mounted. Devon watched intently as the dice landed. Nine dots were showing, creating the established point. The shooter would keep rolling the dice until he either matched the nine—in which case he'd win—or until he rolled a seven and lost. Devon felt his blood pumping harder as the suspense was drawn out. Finally, after three more shots, the man rolled a nine.
"All right!" Devon shouted, raising his fist. Several others around the table who'd bet on the man's win joined the cheer. The atmosphere was tacky and artificial, but incredibly thrilling. Devon was having the time of his life. Thanks, Uncle Pete, he thought, suppressing a grin.
That morning, Pete had taken him downtown to a respectable-looking photo studio to get a fake ID. Devon had also stopped at a bookstore and picked up a guidebook on Las Vegas and an instruction manual on various casino games. He didn't want to appear ignorant.
His uncle had disappeared hours ago for a private, high-stakes game, so Devon was on his own. He'd made the rounds of the roulette wheels first, and had tucked away a sizable profit—which he'd lost at the blackjack tables. Now, playing craps, it seemed to Devon that his luck was back on the rise. He could easily see how a person might become addicted to gambling.
Standing at the head of the table, the stick man cleared the surface and prepared for another round. Devon's turn was next. A woman with huge red lips, wearing a strapless silver dress, sidled up to him. "My money's on you," she cooed. "Would you like me to kiss the dice for luck?" She walked her fingers up his arm and winked.
Devon felt his face grow warm. This lady wasn't like the immature schoolgirls who'd flirted with him back in Connecticut. She was way out of his league. But I'm in fantasyland, he reminded himself. Anything goes.
He curved his arm around the woman's bare shoulders. "That would be a total waste, because the dice wouldn't appreciate it," Devon said in a cavalier tone. "But I would." With that, he pressed his lips to hers. Everyone at the table laughed cheerfully.
Devon shook the dice, his blood pumping urgently through his veins. His come-out roll, the first of his turn, was an eleven—an instant win. "Yes!" he cried, applause erupting around him.
Suddenly, Devon caught a glimpse of a tall, slim brunette playing a slot machine. She looked like Linda Clark, but Devon couldn't tell for sure. When she pulled down the lever of the machine, she shifted sideways, giving Devon a full view of her face. It was Linda.
Devon studied her for a moment. She had the elegant beauty of a fashion model, with smooth, clear skin, high cheekbones, thin eyebrows, and a sharp chin. Her outfit—a short black leather skirt and belted jacket—showed off her curvy shape and fantastic legs.
Devon also noted the cool expression in her eyes and the firm set of her jaw. She hardly seemed to be the open, friendly type. What if she tells me to get lost? he wondered, surprised by how intimidated he felt.
He fingered the small wrapped package in his suit jacket pocket. Pete needed his help. Family means looking out for one another, Devon told himself. He'd never felt that way growing up in Connecticut, nor had he found that sense of family in Ohio. But now Pete was his family. Devon wanted their relationship to be real, based on more than their common name and background.
"Are you in?" Devon's sultry companion at the craps table asked.
Devon shook his head, watching Linda from the corner of his eye.
The woman flashed him a sexy smile and handed him one of her business cards. "Later, darling," she whispered suggestively.
Devon slipped the card into his breast pocket, giving her a broad wink. He hurried over to the nearest cashier's cage to cash in his chips. He'd won nearly a hundred dollars that afternoon. Let's see if my luck holds out when I try to get Linda and Pete back together, he thought hopefully.