Killing Her Softly. Beverly BartonЧитать онлайн книгу.
her as the reporters drew closer and closer, shoving microphones and cameras in her face.
“Please, leave me alone.” She tried to move past the throng that seemed to be multiplying by the minute, but she was surrounded. Try as she might, she couldn’t find an escape route.
As if from out of nowhere a tall, broad-shouldered man cut a path through Annabelle’s tormentors, slid his arm around her waist and all but shoved the reporters aside. When they complained, he paused, faced them and snarled. With her breath caught in her throat, Annabelle took a good look at her rescuer. The fierce expression on his face would have backed down the devil himself. The reporters continued to grumble, but didn’t make the slightest move in her direction.
Whoever this man was—her protector—he took her breath away.
“You heard the lady. Leave her alone,” he said, his voice baritone deep and rich.
Annabelle sighed with relief as she offered her white knight an appreciative smile. Who is he? she wondered. Could he possibly be a plainclothes police officer?
She studied him hurriedly, taking in his appearance. He was a devastatingly attractive man with wavy jet black hair and large dark brown eyes. Handsome, but not pretty. Suave yet rugged. He was dressed in an expensive navy blue suit. Tailor-made, unless she missed her guess, which meant he was rich. So he probably wasn’t a policeman. She doubted the base pay, even for a detective, was more than forty or fifty thousand a year. This man’s suit had probably cost several thousand.
He kept his arm around her waist, her body pressed against his side. Annabelle’s heart beat faster and her stomach fluttered. Sheer nerves, she told herself.
“Thank you so much, Mr.—”
“Cortez. Quinn Cortez.”
“I appreciate your coming to my rescue, Mr. Cortez.” Her gaze locked with his as they stared into each other’s eyes. He was looking at her as if he wanted to say something.
“These people can be real jerks,” he told her. “You’ve just lost your cousin—”
“How did you…Oh, you probably read about Lulu in the newspaper.”
A tall, dark-haired woman came through the crowd and walked straight up to Quinn. “I’m sure Ms. Vanderley will be fine now,” the woman said. “We have an appointment”—she tapped her gold wristwatch—“in five minutes. You don’t want to be late.”
He didn’t budge and made no move to release his protective hold on Annabelle.
“Please, don’t let me keep you from an important appointment,” Annabelle said. “I’ll be fine now. Surely they won’t follow me.”
His gaze caressed her, creating a fluttering sensation along her nerve endings. “Let me see you safely inside.”
Suddenly one of the newspaper reporters shouted out, “Ms. Vanderley, how well do you know Mr. Cortez? Obviously you don’t think he had anything to do with your cousin’s murder, right?”
What had the reporter said? Why would he think Mr. Cortez had any connection to Lulu’s murder?
Annabelle broke eye contact with Quinn and looked right at the reporter. “What are you talking about?”
“Did you and your cousin both have a romantic relationship with Mr. Cortez?” the same reporter asked.
When Annabelle glared at him, puzzled by his question, he added, “Seeing how chummy you are with Mr. Cortez and how he came rushing to your rescue, are we to assume that you two are close…friends?”
“I never—” Annabelle realized she wasn’t handling this media attack very well. Speechlessness and shock wouldn’t work in her favor.
“Ignore them,” Quinn whispered in her ear as he urged her into movement.
Escape was the best plan of action, so she allowed him to guide her toward the entrance.
“You didn’t kill Lulu, did you, Ms. Vanderley, when you found out she was sleeping with Quinn Cortez?” The blond reporter held out her microphone as she trailed behind Annabelle, Quinn and the dark-haired woman.
Annabelle turned and faced the reporter. “Go away. Leave me alone. I don’t know what you’re talking about and I don’t care.”
“You don’t care that your cousin was murdered or that Mr. Cortez might have been involved?” Someone in the crowd shouted the question.
“Let’s go inside and get away from them,” Quinn said. “Then I’ll explain what’s going on.”
“Explain now.” She jerked away from him.
“Don’t give them a chance to exploit you and me and Lulu,” Quinn warned.
She stood still as a statue and glared at him. “Were you and Lulu…were you—”
He spoke softly, saying the words for her ears only. “Lulu and I were lovers. We had a date last night. I’m the person who found her body.”
Chapter 4
Although stunned by Quinn Cortez’s confession, Annabelle managed to maintain her composure. Just barely. Odd how discovering her rescuer was one of Lulu’s numerous lovers actually bothered her. And the fact that he’d been the one who had discovered Lulu’s body concerned her. Hadn’t the reporters implied that Mr. Cortez might have been somehow involved in the crime?
Was she murdered by a lover?
When one of the reporters asked that specific question, she hadn’t paid much attention. But staring Quinn Cortez in the eyes, that question suddenly became of paramount importance.
“You—you discovered Lulu’s body?”
“Please, Ms. Vanderley, you don’t want to do this here, in front of the reporters,” Quinn said.
She nodded. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
When he gripped her elbow, she instinctively jerked away from him, but when he and his female companion flanked her in a protective manner, she followed them straight into the building. The last thing she wanted was to give the reporters a show.
“They’ll follow us,” the woman said. “You two go on ahead and I’ll deal with them.”
“Thanks, honey.” Quinn bestowed a devastating smile on his companion. “I’ll meet you upstairs.”
The woman eyed him speculatively. “Don’t get sidetracked.” She looked pointedly at Annabelle.
“I won’t.” Quinn grabbed Annabelle’s elbow and ushered her forward. “Let’s go now, while we can, and let Kendall handle things here.”
“Kendall?”
“Kendall Wells, my friend and lawyer.”
Lawyer? Did this man need a lawyer? Was he guilty of a crime? Was he a suspect in Lulu’s murder?
Despite her uncertainty, Annabelle didn’t protest his assistance in their escape from the media and willingly allowed him to lead her into the building and through the metal detectors. Neither spoke a word until they were securely inside the building and safe from prying eyes. When they reached the two banks of elevators across from each other, she pulled away from him, tilted her chin and narrowed her gaze. He faced her with the same devastating smile he’d used on his friend and lawyer. She punched one of the elevator UP buttons.
“You and Lulu were lovers?” she asked as they waited.
“Yes, we were.”
“You had a date with her last night and you found…you discovered her body.”
“That’s right.”
When the elevator doors to their right swung open, Annabelle entered, punched the tenth-floor button and