Читать книгу Reunited With The P.i. - Anna J. Stewart - Страница 11

Chapter 2

“Now that’s not something you see every day.”

The dazed wonder in his most recent hire’s voice had Vince Sutton glancing up from where he’d been filling a third pitcher of beer. It was a Thursday night and the regulars were in The Brass Eagle. “What’s that?”

Since he’d hired Travis Fielding all of three months ago, Vince had found there was little that didn’t amuse the college senior. Tall and gangly with an odd penchant for retro seventies’ paisley and sideburns, the computer science major seemed to be off in his own world most of the time.

“Tell me that’s not an angel who just walked in.” Travis suddenly jumped back as he’d over-poured the line of tequila shots. The pungent liquid dribbled over the lip of the bar and onto the kid’s pristine white sneakers.

Despite hearing the distinct cha-ching of lost cash, Vince tossed Travis a towel. When he glanced over again, he found his employee’s “angel” standing directly across from him. “Simone.”

Vince went numb as he took in the familiar lush waves of thick hair, her startling sapphire-blue eyes that, despite every attempt, couldn’t hide her emotions. Not from him, at least. Had it really been three years since he’d touched her face, those cheekbones? Trailed his finger down that pointed nose that only hinted at the stubbornness he knew she possessed? Traced that small tattoo on the base of her—

“Hello, Vince.”

Her voice washed over him, sultry, intoxicating. How two words could hold so much—a greeting, a promise, a reminder—was beyond him. Then again, he’d stopped trying to figure out Simone Armstrong around the time he’d served her with divorce papers.

As if by rote, he reached for a bottle of Riesling. He poured her a glass before her tempting smile captured him completely. “You’re looking good.” As if Simone could ever look bad.

Beside him, Travis guffawed and blinked wide eyes at Vince as if he’d become his idol.

Simone still had that classic Hollywood blond bombshell thing going for her. But beyond the seductive touch of Veronica Lake and the fulsomeness of Marilyn’s curves, there was more than a fair share of the smart spitfire combo of Hepburn and Bacall.

“So are you.” With a slight nod, she accepted the wine he offered. “Hello.” She offered her other hand to Travis, who scrubbed both his palms hard against his chest before taking her hand. “I’m Simone Armstrong.”

“She means Deputy District Attorney Armstrong. The Avenging Angel,” Vince added with enough venom in his voice to make Simone’s eye twitch. “And this, Simone, is Mr. Travis Fielding. I’m betting he’ll find his voice once he picks it up off the floor along with his tongue.” His gaze skimmed her as low as he dared. “I see you haven’t exhausted the fashion industry’s supply of white fabric yet.” His eyes stopped on the tiny pearl button between her full breasts, and then on the pendant at the base of her throat. The open collar of her tailored silk shirt dipped respectfully enough for office attire, but allowed a peek at those luscious curves of hers. Did she still invest in that barely there underwear? His fingers itched to discover whether she wore lace or silk. Or anything at all.

“Why change what works?” Simone flicked an annoyed expression at him before offering a warm smile to Travis. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Travis. Do you mind if I have a word with your boss for a few minutes?”

“N-no.” Travis’s breath came out in a shudder.

Vince walked around the kid to move beyond the bar. “Don’t forget those shots for your customers. And take two pitchers to the back table for me. The construction workers are getting restless.”

Travis nodded and blinked himself out of whatever hormonal trance Simone had put him in.

“Do you mind?” Simone stopped him when he led her to a booth by the front window. “Back there?” She gestured to the cubby beside the bar where he normally did the daily books. The stubble of hair on the back of his neck prickled as he noticed the tight grip she had on her briefcase. Simone was nothing if not professional, but now he saw something he wasn’t quite used to.

His ex-wife was nervous.

Whatever pleasure he might have taken in causing her some temporary discomfort vanished as every ounce of training—from his service in the Marines to his subsequent years as a private investigator—put him on guard. Whatever was going on had to be bad for Simone to turn up on his doorstep.

“Sit wherever you’d like.” He maneuvered her ahead of him, getting her situated before he sat facing the room. He kept one leg out and braced in his usual “just in case” posture. “What’s going on, Simone? You don’t do social calls on a whim.” Or ever. “And certainly not after this much time had gone by.”

She cringed, her knuckles going white around her glass as she drank half its contents. “I want to hire you.”

If she’d come in here saying she wanted to reconcile she couldn’t have surprised him more. “You need a bartender for a private party?”

“I need an investigator I can trust.”

For an instant, the desire for a beer overtook his power of speech. He shook his head and shifted his attention to the bar, keeping the memories—and the nightmares—at bay. “I’m out of that business.”

The brief flash of sympathy that crossed her face had him gnashing his teeth. Of course she knew what had happened. Everyone in the whole valley knew what happened.

“I heard about the Walker case. That you’d taken a break after...” Her soft voice hit his heart like a sledgehammer. “I didn’t realize you’d decided to make it permanent.”

“Now you know.” Vince had made it permanent because it was the only way to save his sanity. A man could only witness the sickening things people did to one another for so long before he started to expect the worst. Not that anything would change the endless nights he spent wondering if he’d missed something, if anything he could have done might have stopped a young girl’s murder. If he’d been a day, hours, even minutes faster. “This is my focus now.” He indicated the polished wood paneling and brass fixtures, the tables he’d refinished himself. “The building’s mine free and clear. I’ve got a steady clientele, one that doesn’t expect anything other than a topped-up glass and a full plate. Best of all? I don’t answer to anyone other than myself and my employees.”

“I really don’t want to be difficult about this,” Simone said.

“Since when?”

“I can’t take no for an answer, Vince.”

He smirked. “Want to bet?”

“Oh, for...”

She scrubbed a hand across her forehead and only then did he notice the tired, dark circles under her eyes. He’d always worried that her job would eventually get to her. Clearly he’d been right.

“If this is about Jason—” she began.

“It’s not.”

Her eyebrow arched so high it almost disappeared into her hairline.

“It’s not just about Jason, Simone. But since you brought it up.” He rested his arms on the table and leaned toward her. “You sent my brother to prison.” It took all his effort to keep his voice down. “Without a second thought. You never once allowed yourself to consider the extenuating circumstances that happened during that robbery. To top it all off, you and I were barely back from our honeymoon when you advised the prosecuting attorney to throw the book at him, at a kid who’d gotten in with the wrong crowd.”

“First.” Simone leaned far enough in that he could feel the warmth of her breath on his face. “Jason always ran with the wrong crowd. Second, I can’t believe you’re still blaming me for doing my job. And, not to repeat myself, but at the time I had no idea what specific case they were asking about. I read the notes and gave them my opinion. I didn’t realize they’d use the strategy I came up with to prosecute your brother.”

“Nor did you step in and try to stop it when they did. He’s family, Simone. He was your family.”

“I can’t believe we’re still having this conversation.” She pressed her fingers into her temple and squeezed her eyes shut. She was trying to hide it under all that fancy makeup, but she looked as if she was doing more than burning the candle at both ends. It looked like she’d torched an entire candle shop. She took a deep breath and released it. “There was more to the case against Jason and you know it. He could have taken the deal he was offered and testified. And I’m sorry, but you’ve never been objective where your brother is concerned. You know this. You’ve told me so yourself.”

“The line between good and bad gets blurred when your father beats the crap out of you and your mother lets it happen.”

“And yet you turned out fine. It all comes down to choices. You made good ones. Jason didn’t. Funny how you’re all about consequences except in this scenario.”

That Simone was right—had always been right about his kid brother—never did sit well with him. It didn’t matter how many times he’d gone to bat for Jason, tried to help him, detour him or get him a job, the kid was a wreck. If he didn’t have bad luck, he’d have no luck at all. Part of Vince had begun to believe he had to choose: his brother or his wife. And the more he dwelled on it, the more he resented it. And her. That the press had dubbed her an avenging angel hadn’t surprised him. What had taken them so long? “Okay, fine, but I’m making another choice now. Find yourself another investigator, Simone. I’m not your man.”

He hadn’t meant to sound taunting, or cold, but he’d always seemed to say the wrong thing around his former wife.

“Are you so determined to punish me for something that happened years ago you won’t even hear me out?”

“You should have asked whose file it was.” And here he thought he’d set the resentment aside when he’d filed for divorce. He braced himself as she looked at him in silence. “You should have paid closer attention to whose life you were about to destroy.”

“You’re right.” She drank the rest of her wine and cringed as if the admission burned. “I should have. If I’d known it was Jason, maybe I would have done things differently.” She hesitated. “If that’s worth anything now.”

“It’s not,” he lied. Her personal learning curve was one of the qualities he admired most about her. Simone wasn’t one to make the same mistake twice. But she’d made one that put his brother behind bars for ten years for a crime he hadn’t technically committed, and it wasn’t something Vince would get past anytime soon.

“Good to know you’ve moved beyond it.” She toasted him with her empty glass. “At least let me tell you about this case before you shut me down. Please.”

“Nothing you say will change my mind.”

“So long as you’re keeping an open mind.”

There it was. The sarcasm. The passive aggressive mind games she excelled at. “Why me?” He sat back and kept a steady gaze on hers. “Those expensive investigators at the DA’s office not cutting it? You need to slum it with us mere mortals?”

“If you must know I’m having some trust issues with the people I work with, and by the way, I never thought of you as a mere anything, Vince. Not once.”

If she meant the statement as a peace offering, it was a pretty good one. Hating himself, fighting that stomach-clenching dread that his world was about to open up under his feet again, he gave in to her. “I assume this has something to do with Paul Denton?”

Her brow furrowed. “You’ve been following things?”

More like he’d been following her. Just because he’d ended it between them didn’t mean he wasn’t proud of Simone’s accomplishments. He knew she’d blown through college and law school in record time, landed at the DA’s office weeks after graduation and won her first case a month after that. Her ambition and determination were what had attracted him to her in the first place. Until he’d realized that same ambition and dedication to the letter of the law didn’t leave much room for him.

“It’s been difficult not to,” Vince told her. “Front page headlines for the past few weeks. Corporate kickbacks, shell companies, money laundering. Sexy stuff.”

“I’m convinced it’s the tip of an iceberg,” Simone added as she pulled out a file folder and set it on the table. She flipped it open to show a small photograph stapled to the top of a report. A pretty, dark-haired young woman. Green eyes. Green eyes... Vince forced himself to look. Did they always have to have green eyes?

“Mara Orlov was fresh out of college when she started in Paul Denton’s private office as his record keeper,” Simone continued. “She’s smart, Vince. Like supersmart, with an eidetic memory, and she picks up on everything. So when she came across a pattern in his books, she dug deeper and uncovered Denton’s fraud. Money that should have been dispersed was getting moved from business to business and then it would vanish. She wrote out a detailed report, photocopied all the records and brought everything she had to a friend of hers in my office who brought it to me.”

“Why you?”

“The DA was in the hospital. Gall bladder surgery and then complications,” she explained. “Luck of the draw meant he was out of the office for weeks.”

Vince smirked. “Luck? You never take a day off and were there, ready and able, to assume control.”

“She’ll be a star in the witness box.” Simone’s eyes narrowed as she plowed on. “She’s unshakable, actually. Or so I thought. We hit a rough patch a little while ago and she got spooked. She thought someone was following her. So after some convincing, I assigned two deputies to watch her. She was back on board, until this morning.” She was staring at him, hard. “She took off, Vince. Poof. The deputies guarding her were drugged and when they went up to her apartment to get her, they found she was gone—her car, too. Now they’ve been suspended pending an investigation that shouldn’t even be open. I need someone completely unconnected to law enforcement. This could be good for you, Vince. Maybe you need this. I need you.”

If only that were true. “You’re certain she took off?” Vince purposely flipped the pages over to obscure the photograph. The facts and details blurred, got lost behind the past, locked away by sheer will. “You sure she wasn’t bought off?”

Simone inclined her head and frowned; he recognized the move. “Bought off? You mean bribed?”

“You didn’t think of that?” he asked. Could his ex be that naive? He wouldn’t have thought so.

“No.” She sagged in her seat to the point he wanted to reach over and gently erase the lines of concern between her brows. “No, honestly, it never crossed my mind. She’s not that kind of person, Vince. But you thought it immediately, which proves I’ve come to the right person. Maybe she got scared again, or...”

“Or maybe someone got to her.”

“I can’t let myself think that.” He heard a hint of desperation in her voice, one that had slipped through her defenses. “Not yet.”

Whatever sharp retort Vince considered throwing at her became stuck in his throat. He might know what buttons to push when it came to Simone and her devotion to protecting people—especially women. But he wasn’t so callous as to use the unsolved murder of her childhood friend as a verbal weapon against her.

“Will you please take the case?” she pleaded.

“Based on what you’ve told me?” Despite his instincts, his mind was already ticking off avenues to pursue: the girl’s address, her friends, family. He still had contacts at various phone companies to trace the girl’s cell phone. Wouldn’t take much to get a feel for things. “No.”

“If it’s money—” His eyes narrowed and she held up her hands in surrender. “Sorry. I know. Touchy subject.”

“Only where you’re concerned.” Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined he’d end up marrying a woman with a trust fund larger than a small country’s national budget. She hadn’t lorded it over him, but her too-generous offer of spousal support had left a giant hole in his ego. As if he needed or wanted anything from Simone other than...Simone. “There has to be more to this than a simple missing witness, Simone. What aren’t you telling me?”

“A lot.” Her lips were pinched. “But nothing I can prove. Yet. I only have ten days before I’m back in court. If we can find her by then—”

“What do you mean we? You hire me, I do the job and report to you. I don’t play well with others. And you definitely don’t play well with me.”

“Right. It said that on the divorce decree.”

“Simone—”

“If you take the job, you work for me,” she said. “My terms. Not the DA’s office. And not officially. I’m paying you. Off the books. In cash. Up front if you want. But I need to be involved, Vince. Especially when you find her. I need her to verify on the stand where those books of Denton’s came from. Without her, my case falls apart and Denton—and whoever he might be connected to—will get off.”

When he found Mara, not if. Did she honestly expect to find...no! He couldn’t go down this road again. Except that deep chasm opening moments before hadn’t been despair, he realized; it had been Simone’s rabbit hole of a conscience. Mara was one of Simone’s crusades; one of those “I’m going to save her and fix her” situations his ex kept getting involved in.

When was she going to accept that no matter what, she couldn’t go back and save Chloe Evans?

Vince tapped his fingers against the file. It didn’t matter how long Simone spent in the criminal justice system, she clung to that optimism of hers like a life preserver. In Vince’s experience, cases like this rarely ended well. But he also knew Simone well enough to admit that telling her would only make her dig her heels in.

He honestly didn’t know what she’d do if he didn’t take the case.

“Well?” Simone asked. “Are you going to help me?”

“Depends.”

“Depends on what?”

Vince’s eyebrows shot up. Did she just whine? “Depends if you’re honest with me about when was the last time you ate.”

“What’s that got to do with—?” There it was again, that tightness in her voice, as if it was a rubber band about to snap. When she pushed her hair behind her ear—her telltale sign of nerves—her hand trembled. “All right. I ate part of a croissant after court this morning.”

Vince chuckled. She might excel at taking care of other people, but when it came to taking care of herself, she was last in line. “That’s what I thought. Stay here. Decompress for a few minutes. I’ll fix you something in the kitchen. And no,” he added when she opened her mouth. “It won’t be anything you’d usually have. You need some protein. I’ll have Travis bring you coffee since we know what happens when you’ve had too much wine on an empty stomach. We’ll eat, we’ll catch up a bit and then maybe discuss Mara’s situation.”

She grabbed his wrist as he stood and squeezed hard enough to make his heart skip a beat. “Thank you, Vince.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t said yes.”

But even before he left the table, he knew he would.