"I could hear Anton talking as he walked people to their cars."
Straightening, Colin folded his arms. "You were close enough to hear that?"
"I was out front, weeding. I figured since I was home I might as well do some yard work."
Appearances mattered. The neighbors were less likely to pay attention to them if they kept the place up. But he'd made Tiffany call in sick for a reason. "If I didn't want the nosy busybodies at that nursing home making a big deal about your lip, what makes you think I want the neighbors to see it?"
Uncertainty flickered in her eyes. She was so powerless against him.
It turned him on, made him want to take what she'd offered last night. But ever since he'd learned about Samantha, he'd been too preoccupied to even touch Tiffany.
Later, he promised himself. There was always later. That was the great thing about marrying someone like her, someone overlooked by others, someone whose gratitude for his love made her more loyal than a dog. She'd never leave him, no matter what he did.
"No one saw my face," she said. "I kept my head down the whole time, didn't speak to anyone." She gave a little laugh. "I don't think they realized I was there. They were too concerned about Samantha."
Irritation combined with arousal to make his muscles tense. But the activity next door was more exciting than the prospect of a bondage session with his wife, so he let it go. For now. "Who do you think is driving that old Mercedes sitting out front? That piece of shit's got five hundred thousand miles on it if it's got ten."
She went to the window on the other side of the fireplace and peered through the blind. "I've never seen that car before. It wasn't there earlier."
"The driver's maybe six-two, around two hundred pounds. Athletic build. Definitely needs a haircut."
She raised both palms. "Doesn't ring a bell."
The man he'd just described suddenly walked through the gate, coming from the backyard of Lucassi's house. "There he is!" Colin whispered, and Tiffany, who'd started to turn away, changed direction.
"Could he be a detective?" she asked, squinting out at him.
Colin made a noise of disgust. "You were here when the investigator showed up last night, Tiff. You know what he looks like."
"But...there could be others, couldn't there? Maybe the police put together a task force."
"Not this fast--especially when they still think she might be a runaway."
"Shows what they know."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"She wouldn't run away from a mother who loves her that much."
He didn't react to the wistful note in her voice. Tiffany had never been loved by anyone. Her mother, shot to death five years ago by Tiffany's brother, had been an even worse bitch than his own mother. His mother used to beat him on a regular basis, but Tiffany's had ignored her. After seeing that neglect take its toll through all the years they'd gone to school together in Modesto, he'd decided extreme indifference was worse than abuse, at least abuse that stopped short of permanent physical damage. "They don't know Zoe. And neither do you. My mother made sure no one ever saw my bruises.
Maybe Zoe's the same way. Maybe she's not nearly as nice as you want to believe."
"She's nice," Tiffany insisted.
The phone rang, but he didn't move. Tiffany would answer it. She did anything she could to make his life more comfortable. That was the price she paid for being wanted.
"Hello?"
He listened with half an ear while watching the man outside search the ground. Then Lucassi's guest looked in his direction, and he jumped away from the window. Colin doubted he could be seen; regardless, he wasn't about to take the chance.
"Colin?" Tiffany said.
He didn't want to be bothered. "What?"
"Tommy needs to talk to you. He said you never called to tell him what time to come over tonight."
Torn by his fascination with his neighbor's guest and the obligation to respond to his friend, he hesitated. Realizing he wouldn't be able to figure out the identity of the guy next door simply by spying, he walked over to accept the handset. "'Lo?"
"Hey, man, what's up?"
"Nothin'."
"We playin' poker tonight?"
Colin had never revealed any of his pets to his buddies and he wasn't about to start now. But he was willing to have some fun with Tiffany, maybe even let them have some fun with her. They talked about her hot body, what she'd become since he'd married her, as if they dreamed about her all the time. But if they came over, he'd have to account for her busted lip. And if the drugs they'd given Samantha wore off and she started screaming again, the noise could be difficult to explain.
With all the activity next door, it was too risky. "No, I'm swamped. I had to bring home a shitload of work."
"You sure you can't carve out an hour? I rented the best p**n o you've ever seen, man. I know James will get off on it big-time."
"Not tonight."
Disappointment filled a short pause, but Tommy tried to cover it.
"Okay, no problem."
"You can come over on Friday," Colin said. By then things should be safe enough to party. "And I'll have better entertainment than a damn movie."
"What's better than a skin flick?" Tommy said with a laugh.
"Actual skin," he replied. "You bring pizza and beer, have James bring the rest of that baggie he's been saving and I'll provide the fun."
Tiffany was staring at him when he hung up. He could sense her misgivings, but he didn't care. She'd enjoy herself. He'd make his friends beg for her, do anything she asked, let her be in charge. By the time it was all over, she'd probably ask if they could do it again.
"What?" he said, challenging her stare.
She ducked her head. "Nothing."
He went back to the window. He could no longer see the man poking around next door, but the old Mercedes was still at the curb.
Who the hell was this guy? Something about him put Colin on edge.
He was younger than the detective Colin had met, and he seemed so...intense. Determined. "There's no way anyone can trace Sam to our place, is there?" He'd asked before, but he wanted to make sure Tiffany was telling him everything.
"None," she said. "She came over on her own."
"Did anyone see her?"
"I don't think so. But even if someone did, all we have to do is say she left a few minutes after she stopped by. Just because she was here doesn't mean we did anything to her. We don't have criminal records or any motivation that they know of. You're an up-and-coming real estate attorney.