He smiled. “It does.”
“Or she does?” Shaun teased.
“What makes you think there’s a she?”
A pang of guilt hit him for ducking out and leaving Casey behind at the house. Not exactly a gentlemanly thing to do on their first date. Aidan had bolted as soon as he got Shaun’s call saying he was here in town and needed to talk to Aidan pronto. Frank looked skeptical when Aidan said he had an errand to run and hadn’t exactly been thrilled about delivering Aidan’s message to Casey, telling her to meet him here at Steamers.
Couldn’t be helped. He’d needed to share Rory’s new information with his investigator, and he didn’t want Casey involved in this just yet.
“I know that smile on your face,” Shaun was saying. “The satisfied smile on your mug that says you’ve got a new girl warming your bed.”
Aidan scowled. “No, I don’t. She’s not like the others.”
Bushy auburn brows rose in unison. “Isn’t she now?”
“Just never mind.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to be keeping that scowl on your face, boyo.”
“You have news on our friend Bartow or his partner?”
Shaun nodded slowly. “I spent the day in Ybor City.”
“How did you find out about his vendors down there? I just found out myself. I was going to fill you in when you called.”
“What vendors?” Shaun wanted to know.
“For Jameson’s restaurant.”
“Don’t know anything about a Jameson’s restaurant. I was in Ybor City looking for your weasel’s partner.”
“Do you know who it is? What Bartow is into?”
“The who is a Mexican drug cartel. As for your weasel, he’s money laundering.”
Aidan smacked a fist in his palm. “I knew it. That’s the only thing that fit.”
“I don’t have a name yet, but apparently Bartow’s been working with the cartel for a few years.”
“Do we have enough information to go to the feds or the state attorney’s office?”
Aidan could see the light at the end of the tunnel. He could go back to his old life. Strange, but that thought didn’t light him up like he had expected.
“Information from snitches? Yes. Proof or a name? No.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I put the squeeze on one of the cartel’s lieutenants—a guy with an ugly past I can bring to light—but he won’t give me a name. For any amount of money. No amount of threats worked either. He values his neck too much. That’s what I came to tell you. Things are hot right now. Too hot. Bartow’s in trouble with the cartel, and the situation is—”
“Dangerous?” Aidan guessed.
“Deadly. According to my thug on the inside, the cartel has had it with Bartow coming up short on his end every month. Bartow is putting a crimp in their operation, and there’s talk of termination. Your weasel has blamed anybody and everybody for his deficits. He has asked the cartel for some relief. This lieutenant isn’t sure whether the cartel will help Bartow or terminate him.”
“Damn, I wanted something solid.”
Shaun glowered at Aidan. “I’ll keep hammering away until I find out who exactly runs the cartel, but I want you to call your legal boys and get your ass out of here, Aidan. Now.”
“No. I can’t leave the Stuarts or the rest of Cypress Key hanging. I intend to build my golf resort here with Rhett, and I don’t want a cartel embedded here.”
“Maybe it’s time to pick a new place,” the investigator suggested grimly.
Aidan thought of Casey, Frank, Neal, Louie, and the rest. “No, I’m staying right here.”
He ran a hand over the back of his neck. Paced a couple steps away, then back. “How bad can it get?”
“When the cartel doesn’t get its money laundered—either enough money or on time—people tend to disappear. And Bartow is behind. He’s holding the cartel off with the promise of money he’ll launder through some seafood festival he runs here in Cypress Key every year.”
“I was afraid of that,” Aidan said. “Folks say he founded the festival, and he runs the whole thing. It’s next weekend. He personally leases all the booths and takes a percentage. Gets all his permits slicked through his buddies down at City Hall.”
“And more money is deposited at the bank per booth than is actually taken in?” Shaun surmised. “A perfect laundering set up. According to my frightened stool pigeon, though, even with the festival, Bartow is still way behind on his promised laundered-deposits-and-returns for the year. He intends to make up the difference with laundering he’ll do once he gets some new condo development under construction down here.”
“Yeah. He’s been pressuring a widow in town to sell, and so far she has managed to hold him off. That’s why he’s trying to pressure more businesses into taking his dirty loans.”
Shaunessy whistled softly. “This is going to get nasty, Aidan. I don’t like it. According to my snitch, Bartow has promised the cartel he will build dozens of condominiums on some abandoned airport property with fitness centers, salons, and spas. The cartel’s own construction companies would do the construction—build cheap and overcharge for labor and materials. If Bartow can’t come through with the project, he’s dead in the water. And I mean dead.”
“But he hasn’t bought the property yet. He can’t buy it. Ever.”
Shaun narrowed his eyes at his friend. “How do you know Bartow can’t ever buy it?”
“Because Maybelle Crawford sold the airport property to me, and no one in town knows.”
“Saints above!” Shaunessy cursed softly. “Which puts you right in the middle.”
“Except Bartow still thinks the airport property is available. He’s after the Stuart’s golf course too. I think he’s trying to force them out.” He filled Shaun in on what Rory had told him and about the vandalism at the golf course.
“I want you out of here, Aidan. Let me work on getting the proof we can take to the feds. I’m not nearly done with my stool pigeon or his contacts.”
“I’m going to get these Cypress Key residents to talk to an attorney.”
“If Bartow finds out, he’ll come after you. His life is on the line, and he knows it,” Shaun argued grimly. “I’m serious, my friend. I want you out of here. You saved my arse that night in New York, and I’m not going to let you get hurt.”
“I won’t get hurt. Most of the townspeople hate Bartow. All I need is a couple folks to testify, and we can nail the bastard and his supposed cartel buddies.”
“You’ll need more than just young Rory,” Shaunessy pointed out.
“I know. I’ll figure something out. Keep digging. The cartel has to be blackmailing folks, not just making vendors disappear so Bartow can show up with new ones.”
The big Irishman focused on a spot beyond Aidan’s shoulder. “Don’t turn around, but a woman in a lovely green sundress is spying on us from the corner.”
“Blonde, slender, about five foot six?”
“Aye, she’s a beauty.”
“Shaun,” Aidan growled.
“Maybe she isn’t your girl. In which case, I certainly want to have a go.”
“Stop staring like that,” Aidan growled again.
“I’m just looking. Checking out the splendid rack on her.”
“I said back off, you big Mick!”
“Oh ho! So the girl must be the beautiful Casey you keep mentioning.”
“I never told you she was beautiful,” Aidan said angrily. “Now, back off! She’s—”
“—yours. I get it.” Shaun smiled indulgently.
He glared at his watch. “Dammit, she’s early. She wasn’t supposed to see you.”
“Hiding me, are you?”
“Just
not prepared to explain my meddling in Cypress Key affairs just yet. You’re leaving now. I’ll catch up with you later. Where are you staying?”
“The Smuggler’s Inn over on the water.” Shaun grinned at his friend. “Have a grand evening, boyo.”
“I’ll talk to you.” Aidan clapped him on the back. “Thanks, man.”
Shaunessy’s expression turned grim. “You watch your ass, Aidan, until I get back here with my proof.”
“I will.”
Shaun folded his muscular frame into the rental sedan. “And while you’re at it, watch the girl’s too.” He barked a laugh at Aidan’s instant glower.
Aidan didn’t glance back at Casey’s hiding spot. He waved off Shaun and strolled into the restaurant as though he didn’t have a care in the world. Casey didn’t keep him waiting long.
~ ~ ~
Casey breathed out a sigh of relief as she watched Aidan wave goodbye to the thug—as she now thought of him—and saunter into the restaurant. He hadn’t spotted her. Now she would wait and see if he explained the errand that kept him from escorting her here.
An ugly thought hit her. What if he didn’t consider this a date? Maybe he thought it was just friends sharing a meal out? No. She’d been very clear last night about not wanting to be just friends. She smiled, remembering. Very clear.
Their dustup today was all about trust. And hers was being tested again. She couldn’t help it. That thug Aidan was talking to looked the exact type to burn greens and put sugar in a mower tank. She grimaced as she strode into the restaurant parking lot. Not like her to label someone for their looks. But these were difficult times. For her . . . for their business . . . for their town.
She brought out her best smile when she entered the restaurant and found Aidan waiting by the front door. He reached immediately for her hand, and a few butterflies took flight at his possessiveness in front of all the dining patrons.
“Sorry about taking off like that,” he said. “I had a rush errand to take care of.”
She opened her mouth to ask what errand? and he brought her hand up to brush a kiss across her knuckles. The touch of his lips on her fingers sent delicious tingles skating up her arm.
“Turns out it wasn’t as important as I had thought.”
He tugged her toward a table in the bar section of the popular eatery. “I thought we’d have a drink in the bar before dinner. This is our first date, and I want it to be special.” He held out a chair and kissed her cheek as she sat down.
Wow. Aidan had certainly turned on the charm. So this was a date. Casey couldn’t hide her joyful grin. Her insides warmed even faster at his tender remark than her cheek did at his kiss.
Special. He wants tonight to be special. Our first date.
She beamed at him. Maybe the thug in the parking lot wasn’t even Aidan’s friend. Could have been some tourist asking directions. Right. In black and camo. And Frank said a friend had called Aidan. Heck, he was a stranger in town himself. Where would Aidan find a friend in Cypress Key she didn’t know? And why did she have to second-guess everything?
“What’s the frown for?” he asked and took her hand.
The softness of his voice, the touch of his warm hand sent all those tingles racing again. Those tingles she loved. Those tingles she wanted to hang onto. She could ask about the errand or his friend later.
The waitress came over, another girl Casey knew from high school, and she proudly introduced Aidan, then had to watch as the girl flirted with him while taking their order. Casey watched the interplay and couldn’t really blame the girl. Aidan was a charming hunk and his natural way of talking to women always seemed like flirting. She needed to remember that herself. Casey ordered chardonnay when the girl finally deigned to ask her preference, after laying yet another sultry smile on Aidan when he requested scotch and water.
The waitress returned their order in record time, and they quietly sipped their drinks while Aidan peppered Casey with questions about the town. The wine warmed her insides along with his hold on her hand. Every time she tried to ask him about his life or past, he would turn the conversation back to her with more questions about school and her life here before he’d arrived.
The niggling doubts were still there, but Casey was too happy tonight—being with Aidan, touching him, and enjoying his flirting. All for her.
Their waitress hustled back over to leer at Aidan and ask if he wanted another drink. Not Casey, mind you, just him. He smiled, told her yes, ordered another wine for Casey—thank you very much, since she was the actual date—and requested the waitress put his name on the seating list for dinner. If the girl had leaned any farther over, she would fall in Aidan’s lap. And he just grinned back at her. Which was starting to annoy Casey.
So she went for broke. “What errand did you have to do?”
The words blurted out the second their rambunctious waitress raced to do his bidding. Her question took Aidan aback for all of three seconds.
“I had to meet a friend of mine.”
Oh, Lord. The thug was his friend.
“A friend of yours? Here? In Cypress Key?”
Aidan’s bright smile faded a bit. She hated that she had caused that.
“Uh, yeah. He works with me from time to time.”
“Works with you?” she parroted.
Doing what? Vandalizing golf courses?
No. No. No. Stop thinking like that. This is Aidan.
She scrunched her eyes shut.
“Okay, spit it out. What’s wrong?” Aidan insisted.
Her eyes popped open. Aidan’s expression had grown wary. She opened her mouth to ask what this friend of his really did for a living, and how had Aidan ended up working with him when—
“Lookee here, boys. It’s our favorite golf course grunt. Having dinner with my girl.”
Aidan stiffened and his wary expression hardened to stone. PJ Bartow rocked on his heels behind Aidan’s chair.
“Go away, PJ,” Casey hissed, careful to keep her voice low. “I’m not your girl.”
“Sure you are. You just don’t know it yet.”
“Aargh,” she growled, fisting her hands. “Go away.”
“What real man lets a woman fight his battles for him?” PJ sneered near Aidan’s ear, raising his voice just enough so the customers at the adjoining tables looked over.
His two dimwitted buddies halted a step behind him, one on either side. Aidan put a palm up to silence her and scraped his chair back to rise.
All three troublemakers jumped back a step, and Casey almost laughed. “Real men, huh?” she said to PJ.
Aidan again put a hand up to silence her. “What do you want?” he asked PJ.
“Just makin’ conversation on a night out,” PJ replied pleasantly. “You can’t throw me out of here like you did back at the course.” He followed that with a nasty grin. Jimmy and Darryl guffawed on cue.
“No?” Aidan said softly, and PJ’s grin evaporated. His partners glared.
“Like to see you try.” PJ shot a quick glance back at his buddies, no doubt to be sure they still backed him up.
Aidan smiled. “You never did tell me what the P in PJ stands for.”
PJ glowered at him.
“I’m betting it’s Peter.”
“Hey! How’d you know?” Darryl rumbled.
“Shut up,” PJ ordered his cohort.
“And the J . . . hmm . . . I’m guessing jinxed. Peter Jinxed.”
“Nah, that ain’t right.”
“I said shut up, Darryl.” PJ’s face had flushed beet red.
Casey didn’t like this. Three to one were lousy odds. Aidan had taken them once, but he’d had the element of surprise on his side. If he started something in here, Watson would arrest him and throw away the key.
&
nbsp; “I know!” Aidan called cheerfully, though his eyes said otherwise. “It’s gypped. Naw, wait. That is spelled G-y-p-p-e-d. There’s no J. Though Peter Gypped surely fits you.” He’d raised his voice, and a few folks at nearby tables chuckled quietly.
“You shut up,” PJ told Aidan menacingly.
“I have it! It’s joke.” Aidan’s eyes narrowed on PJ. No smile evident anywhere on his handsome face. “It’s Peter Joke, isn’t it?”
PJ’s eyes widened. White all around his pupils. His breathing had gone rapid, in and out. “Why don’t we all step outside?”
A shadow suddenly cut across PJ’s frame.
“I don’t like them odds,” Big Louie said as he moved up alongside Aidan.
Aidan grinned at the big man. “Nothing I can’t handle, but I appreciate the heck out of the offer.”
“You sure?”
PJ stabbed a finger at the newcomer. “You got no business sticking your nose where it don’t belong, Louie! My father will—”
“Will what?” Louie asked, and then said to Aidan, “Now I gets to stay.”
The situation had escalated out of control. A few customers moved toward the bar. Others moved their chairs away.
“Settle it on the golf course,” Casey blurted, before she really thought out her plan.
PJ stared, frowning. Aidan didn’t move, didn’t glance, but Casey could feel his disapproval at her interference.
Male ego, my butt.
“You want back on the course, right?” she asked PJ, her plan suddenly taking root.
Aidan did turn then. To glare.
“I should never had been banned in the first place,” PJ retorted belligerently.
“Yes, you should,” she snapped, “but you get one shot—one shot only—at coming back.”
“I’m listening.”
“No,” Aidan hissed, but Louie laid a hand on his arm.
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