by Quinn Avery
The only thing Bexley was willing to trust was that the girl was deliberately trying to downplay her relationship with the security guard.
5
On the way to Nick Harvey’s house in Fullerton, Bexley placed several calls. The first was intended to let Brewer know she’d be joining him later than expected, but he didn’t answer the burner phone. She dictated a quick text instead.
Then she called Red, requesting a copy of Travis and Simone’s criminal histories. It was normally a task within Bexley’s purview, but she was spreading herself thin, and time was of the essence with Kiersten’s case. Besides, Red was more than happy to comply.
Next up was Temperance Rose.
“¡Hola, Miss Bexley!” the reality star trilled. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Temperance, hi. I hate to ask this of you, but my circle of friends with a significant cash flow is limited to you, and only you. But don’t worry, what I’m asking doesn’t actually involve the spending of money. More like a temporary deposit to cover a little white lie for a friend in trouble. I’ll return every last cent…with interest.”
Without hesitation, Temperance answered, “How much, and where do I send it?”
Her confidence in Bexley felt misplaced—using Temperance’s influence with the jeweler was the only temporary solution to Kiersten’s conundrum. “Just like that? What if I told you the money was for hookers and blow?”
Her tinkling laugh vibrated against Bexley’s ear. “That concept is a little outdated.” There was a beat of silence, then, “I’d do anything for you, Miss Bexley. I owe you everything.”
“You already paid me for my services, Temperance.”
“I don’t think you understand. I was a complete wreck before you recovered my sweet Cenicienta’s collar. I worried there was no one left to trust in this world. What you did gave me hope. La creencia.”
Bexley thanked Temperance several times and walked her through the details, then made the most difficult of the three phone calls.
Grayson answered, “You’ve finally decided to return my calls.”
The tightness that stretched through Bexley’s chest was impossible to ignore. Though a part of her ached to be reunited with the first man she’d ever truly cared about, it was likely they’d only fall back into the same old routine after a brief honeymoon stage. And masochism wasn’t her thing. “This is actually a business call.”
“I see,” he answered coldly. “Can’t give me another chance, but you have no problem still asking for favors.”
“This involves Kiersten. She’s in trouble, and needs our help.”
He released a heavy sigh. “I’m listening.”
“Have you ever dealt with counterfeit jewelry?”
“Not personally, but I know a thing or two.”
“Where would someone have to go in order to have it created?” she asked.
“That kind of thing is everywhere now. Customs seizes millions of dollars’ worth of the stuff every year.”
“I’m talking about duplicating a specific piece of vintage jewelry. Namely, a pair of emerald earrings.”
Grayson was quiet for a moment. “I know a guy in the area who served time for counterfeit, and may be able to point us in the right direction. He just happens to owe me a favor. Do you have a picture of the jewelry?”
“I’m on my way to meet with a witness. Give me an hour, and I can provide him with the actual counterfeit earrings.”
“My lieutenant is having me look into an undercover drug bust that went south, so I’ll be working late. You can bring the earrings by the station. It’ll give us a chance to finally talk.”
“I don’t have time for that, Grayson.” Her SUV’s navigation system announced she had arrived at her destination. “I’m sorry, but I really have to go.”
She hit “end” on the navigation screen before pulling into the cracked driveway. The neighborhood was a significant step down from Simone’s, peppered with abandoned houses and junk cars parked on neglected lawns. The Harveys’ ranch-style home was on par with the others, in need of new siding and shingles, the front door barely hanging by its hinges. The idea that Nick Harvey had served his country and was now living in such a dismal environment sent waves of empathy rushing through Bexley as she started for the house.
In the backyard, a fit, muscle-bound blonde man tossed a baseball at a little boy with identical features who couldn’t have been more than five. The boy held his mitt high in the air with both hands, missing it by more than a yard. The man covered his face and moaned like his kid just blew his shot at the big leagues.
“Nick Harvey?” Bexley called out.
The man’s head jerked in Bexley’s direction. “Depends who’s askin’,” he answered with a slight East Coast accent.
“My name’s Bexley Squires. I’m a private investigator, hired by SoFetch. Do you have a minute to answer a few questions about the fashion show last weekend?”
He plucked a can of cheap beer from the grass by his feet, eyebrows raised and lips quirked with a grin as he looked Bexley over from head to toe. “Why didn’t they call the police?”
“They’re hoping to recover the earrings quietly.”
“Sure. Guess I got time for you.” He motioned to the kid. “Go inside, Junior. Tell yer ma to start dinner. I’m starving.”
The boy dropped his glove where he was standing and raced to the house. Nick took a sip of the beer as he watched his son slip inside. His L.A. Angels t-shirt crept up past a “devil dog” tattoo on his bicep. “That one’s not the brightest bulb. Got his smarts from his ma. Surprised that woman was able to graduate high school.”
So much for having a perfect wife and kids, Bexley thought as she crossed her arms. “Do you remember anything standing out as unusual that night? Was anyone acting peculiar? Did anything unexpected happen? Did anyone without authorization come backstage?”
“Not that I saw. Felt like your typical rich assholes’ night.” Returning the can to his lips, he shrugged. “I’ve been doing this job a long time. This kind of thing hasn’t happened on my watch before now.”
“How well do you know the other guards hired for the event?”
“Pretty good. Been workin’ for the company for almost twenty years.”
“Do you think any of them are capable of pulling off a job of this caliber?”
Nick guzzled the last of his beer and pitched the can toward the dilapidated garage before raising a crooked brow. “You sayin’ them ugly earrings were worth a lot?”
“Would they have asked you to handle them if they weren’t?” Bexley countered.
He shoved a hand into his jeans and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Most my coworkers are idiots, but they’re overall stand-up kind of guys. I don’t see any of them getting involved.” He started for the garage. “I’m grabbin’ another beer. You want one?”
“No thank you.” Bexley trailed after him. “What about the model wearing the earrings?”
He spun around, his expression hard. “What about her?”
It was exactly the kind of response Bexley had hoped to provoke. There was no doubt in her mind that the two were romantically involved. “Do you think she could’ve swapped them out when you weren’t looking?”
“With what Simone was wearing that night?” Darkness clouded his gaze before he stomped the remaining distance to the garage. He mumbled, “They barely covered her damn tits.”
Jealous lover? Checkmate. “I suppose you’re right. I spoke with Simone earlier, and she doesn’t seem competent to execute this kind of thing. She said the same thing about you.”
“Is that so?” Nick sneered, violently yanking the handle of the garage door.
“SoFetch has authorized me to offer a reward for the return of the earrings.” It was an outright lie, but one Bexley suspected may propel him into action. She handed him a business card. “If you can think of anything else notable about that night, please give me a call.”
The moment Be
xley stepped into Kiersten’s high-rise office in downtown L.A., her friend hustled around her desk to wrap Bexley in her arms. “God, I love you!”
Although it still wasn’t Bexley’s first nature to hug it out, she was becoming accustomed to Kiersten’s affection. She lightly squeezed her back. “When did you become polyamorous? Does Luke know?”
Giggling, Kiersten stepped back. “The representative from Shantel de Ellis just called to let me know the earrings don’t need to be returned quite yet. Apparently an ‘interested buyer’ from the area put a hold on the earrings and will be coming by my office this Friday with her assessor to take a look at them. They wanted me to keep them since this buyer insisted my office is a more convenient location.”
Bexley shrugged. “Temperance Rose was more than willing to help out. Hopefully it’ll give us enough time to find the real pair.” She lifted an eyebrow. “I think I may already be onto something. Your model, Simone, lives with a brother who has a pretty extensive criminal history. Not only that, but it seems Simone and the security guard who handled the earrings that night know each other on an intimate level.”
Kiersten’s eyes rounded. “No way!”
“Way.”
“I can’t believe you were able to come up with all that information in just a few hours. You should really consider adding ‘magician’ to your resume.”
“And overcome my leporiphobia?” Bexley snorted. “Not a chance.”
Kiersten’s eyes narrowed. “What do lepers have to do with magic?”
“It means a fear of rabbits. Haven’t you ever seen Donny Darko? Nightmares for days.”
“Well, all phobias aside, you really are amazing.” She returned to her desk and opened a drawer, sighing. “Grayson called a little bit ago. I wish the two of you would get your shit together, Bex. I’m starting to feel like the child of a bad divorce, having to pass messages between you. Next you’ll be fighting over who gets me on the holidays.” Frowning, she produced a small velvet box. “Anyway, he told me you’d be stopping by for these.”
Without a word, Bexley accepted the box, opening it to survey the contents. To her unexperienced eyes, she’d never know the earrings weren’t made with real emeralds. “I’ll do everything I can to get the real pair back, Kiersten.”
With glistening eyes, Kiersten’s lips spread into a deep smile. “I know you will.”
By the time Bexley pulled into her apartment’s parking lot well after dusk, file folder containing pictures of the deceased men in hand, she was too exhausted to go into the details of Brewer’s rendezvous to Mikey’s bar. She hadn’t spoken to him since early morning. She was starting to wonder if he was still sleeping off the events of the weekend, or if he’d stumbled into more trouble.
As she started for the building, she felt a small flicker of déjà vu. They never did find out who’d made an attempt on her life in the parking lot outside the condo she’d shared with Cineste. Who’s to say the shooter wouldn’t come for her again? She could still vividly recall the sounds of bullets whizzing past her head. Clenched by a bout of paranoia, she sprinted the remaining distance.
Inside the safety of her dark apartment, she bolted the door behind her and leaned against the wall, willing her heart to slow. Would she ever conquer the fear of being a target as long as she was in the PI business? A part of her deeply doubted she’d ever have peace of mind again.
After peering out the window to ensure she wasn’t followed, she set the file and her handbag on the kitchen island before flicking the light switch. Several bottles of empty beer were lined up beside the sink, and the door to the guest room down the hallway was still closed.
“Brewer? You here?”
Her question went unanswered for hardly a single heartbeat before there was a knock at the front door. Adrenaline seared through her veins. If Brewer was in fact a fugitive, a visitor was the last thing they needed. Sighing heavily, she crept over to the peephole. Grayson stood outside her door, a bottle of her favorite Moscato in hand.
To her utter dismay, he looked exceptionally good. Maybe even better than when they’d been together. His thick hair was recently trimmed with an upgrade to the razor-sharp part he’d had when they were first reunited. The longer length perfectly blended with his well-trimmed dark beard. He wore the jeans she loved that just slightly hung off his hips, and perfectly cupped his muscular behind, paired with the weathered Nirvana t-shirt that best showcased his abs and toned biceps. She adored how that shirt looked on him, and how the exceptionally soft material felt against her cheek. Along with the howling wolf inked on his forearm, she was hit with a plethora of memories almost too intense to process.
“Damn you!” she whispered.
Then her breath hitched. Was Grayson behind the reason Brewer hadn’t answered her calls? Did he know she was hiding Brewer from the sheriff?
“I saw you run inside,” Grayson called out. “I’m not leaving until we talk.”
Deciding she needed to know if he was onto them, she glanced over at the bottles. If Grayson didn’t already know about Brewer, there could be clues everywhere. She only hoped Brewer would be smart enough to lay low once he heard a man’s voice.
She cracked the door open a few inches. “I won’t even bother asking how you know where I live.” After all, Kiersten made a point of mentioning the conversation she’d had with Grayson, and how she felt about the break-up.
His thick lips playfully quirked, making Bexley’s knees weak. “After your call earlier, I figured you’d need something to help you unwind.” He thrust the light blue bottle into her arms. “I arranged for you to meet with Craig Roth—ten o’clock tomorrow morning, PS strip mall’s south parking lot. The guy’s a little skittish, but he’s eager to take a look at those earrings.”
There was no rational way she could stay mad at the man. He’d even been thoughtful enough to chill the bottle beforehand. Even back in high school, he’d always been so good to her. Better than she deserved. “Thank you.”
Grayson slipped his hands into his jeans pockets. “Are you gonna let me in?”
She shook her head. “Sorry, but you’re right…I’ve had a long day. Besides, I don’t know what can be said that we haven’t tried to hash out already.”
His brown eyes twinkled in the light above her door. “What if I promise to leave as soon as you’re done with your first glass?”
“You might want to get your memory tested, Rivers. You forget I out-chugged every guy on the football team at our graduation party.” It had been out of character for Bexley at the time, but she was simply glad to be done with Papaya Springs for good. Or so she thought. She pushed the door and stepped aside. “Go crazy, I guess.”
It physically pained her to witness as he quickly scrutinized the place. She crossed her arms over her clenched stomach, suspecting he resented every square inch of her cramped apartment. Since she hadn’t taken the time to decorate in the several months since she’d moved in, she worried he’d take that as a sign that she wasn’t intending to stay. A sign that gave him false hope.
“Hope your rent’s not too steep,” he said. “It’s…small.”
Sighing heavily, she closed the door behind him. “It’s close to the office. Besides, I’m hardly ever home these days.” Turning away, she started for the cupboard. “Do you want a glass?”
His eyes darted to the empty bottles. “You’re drinking IPA now?” he asked, his voice laced with skepticism.
“It was all I had on hand. I’d bought it in case Alex stopped over.” Truthfully, she’d purchased a six-pack several weeks back, intending to invite Alex and her sister for dinner. But when she imagined Cineste’s reaction to the fact that she was no longer with Grayson, she’d changed her mind. No use shattering her sister’s belief that happily ever after was a tangible concept.
“I’ll take an IPA, if you have any left.” Grayson plopped down onto an island stool. “Those two still hot and heavy?”
“They’re not officially engaged, but they
’re already making plans for a wedding.” Inside the fridge, one bottle remained. She popped the top, then handed it to Grayson.
His fingers trapped hers against the bottle. “You don’t know how badly I wish that was us.” His dark eyes twinkled with emotion. “Suppose you’ll ever forgive me for being an overbearing jerk?”
“It’s not just that, Gray.” She slipped her fingers from his grip. “You want the whole family package—a stay-at-home wife…kids. I’m not sure any of that’s for me. You’re a good man. You deserve to be with someone who wants the same things.”
“I get it. If you decide that’s not what you want, I guess I could somehow learn to adjust if that’s the only way this can work.” He leaned back, jaw held tight. “These last few weeks have been pure torture.”
“These last few weeks happened because I can’t have you micromanaging my life.” Her tongue felt dry and heavy when she attempted to wet her lips. “I can’t deal with your temper every time I take on another dangerous case.”
“I won’t lie. It made me livid, but only because I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea of losing you. I’ve since come to terms with the fact that I can’t stand in your way of anything.” His gaze slid down to the beer bottle. “I can’t even look at another woman without wondering whether or not you’ve moved on with someone else. Maybe we should try couples therapy. I’m willing to do whatever it takes, because I sure as hell can’t stand the idea of a life without you.” Looking back at her, his voice cracked when he added, “I love you, Bex.”
Throat thick with emotion, she glanced down at her feet. She still cared immensely about Grayson and probably always would. She knew that much to be true. Regardless of her feelings, she was horrified that Brewer could be listening in on every word of their conversation.
“I can’t…I don’t know how to—”
