A Rare Chance by Carla Neggers Page A

by some Venezuelan banana grower.”
    â€œThat’s an exaggeration. I got stuck up in a tree and he sent an armed guard after me.”
    â€œSounds like nearly getting yourself shot to me. Where was Scag?”
    â€œGetting help.”
    â€œIn other words, making a fast exit.”
    â€œMost of our trespassing,” Gabriella said airily, “was to investigate and document a suspected new orchid species when an owner refused to let us on his property.”
    â€œWho could blame him? You two find some flower, next thing you know you want the place cordoned off and not so much as an ant allowed in without your permission.”
    â€œOnly until the orchid’s been identified and, if rare or endangered, protected in accordance with international law.”
    â€œI’ll bet.”
    Gabriella gave a breezy toss of her head, trying to dispel some of the tension she felt. Whatever kind of cop Cam Yeager had been, she was betting he’d done his fair share of interrogations. “It wasn’t all crocodiles and narrow escapes from crazy banana growers, you know. Scag and I did some good work together.”
    Cam shrugged. “Maybe you did.”
    â€œAnyway, I’m not the one who should be doing the explaining. You are.”
    â€œNow, why am I not surprised you’d see it that way?”
    He started back up the aisle into Number One, where Scag was hacking away at a knot of back bulbs at his worktable. Gabriella never failed to be amazed by his ability to spend hours at a time with nothing but orchids for company.
    â€œScag,” she said, “this is Cam Yeager. He knows about you.”
    Scag gave them both a mildly suspicious look. “Knows about me. Like I’m Jimmy Hoffa or something.”
    Cam laughed, a deep, raw, sexy laugh that only further unsettled Gabriella. Awareness rippled through her, unbidden and utterly disconcerting. Muttering something about seeing her father later, she pushed through the aluminum door back out to her rooftop deck. She had to get her bearings. She had to think.
    She heard Cam saying, “You and your daughter were your own little Greenpeace on behalf of wild orchids,” and Scag telling him—as only he could—that he didn’t talk to the police.
    â€œRelax,” Cam said, standing with the door open, “I’m an ex -cop.”
    Scag snorted. “Once a cop, always a cop.”
    Laughing again, Cam let the door swing shut behind him as he came out on the deck. Gabriella brushed back strands of hair, just to give her hands something to do. She was a mass of nervous energy.
    Cam pulled back a loose strand of hair that had fallen into her face. “Hey, Gabby. No need to be nervous. I’m on your side.”
    â€œAre you?”
    â€œSure. Scag hasn’t broken a U.S. law in years. I’m not about to arrest him or tell the world he’s up on your roof.”
    She acknowledged his words with a small nod. “I’m worried about him. He’s seventy-five. I don’t think he can do it anymore, chasing after orchids all over the world. But tending a rooftop greenhouse—it’s just not him.” She sighed, her father a complication, as always. “Look, if this Pete Darrow character has a bone to pick with me, that’s fine. But he’d better leave my father alone. You can tell him that.”
    â€œUnderstood.”
    She shot him a look, aware of how close to her he was standing. “You’re really just his friend? You’re trying to make sure he hasn’t gone off the deep end or something by quitting the police force?”
    â€œI told you, we were partners.”
    As if that said it all. Simple words, but his tone suggested layer upon layer of meaning. She nodded. “I know. I’m trying to understand what that means.”
    â€œIt means I’m going to stop him from doing something stupid, even if he won’t thank me in the end.”
    â€œYou