“This photo is a few years old,” Ethan said as Darius stared at it. “Keep that in mind.”
It might be plausible that he didn’t put “Catriona Fletcher” and “Kate Robinson” together. But to say he didn’t recognize the woman in the photo would be a lie.
Still, Ethan James was just a P.I., not an actual officer. He wasn’t breaking any kind of law by not telling him everything.
Darius made a split-second decision. He lifted his gaze to Ethan’s and shook his head. “Sorry.”
After a long moment of scrutiny, Ethan accepted his answer. He handed Darius a business card. “I’ll be here for a few more days if anything comes to mind. Just call that number.”
Darius accepted the card. “Enjoy your time in Lost Harbor.”
“I always do. Thank you for your help.” With a civil nod, he headed for the door, that same hitch in his stride.
“Wait,” Darius called after him. “Could you email me that photo?”
“Sure.”
Darius gave him his personal email address. Best to keep this whole situation away from his official duties.
As soon as Ethan James left, Darius closed the door behind him. He watched through the front window until he’d driven away in a vehicle that he recognized as one of Lost Harbor’s five rental cars.
He pulled out his phone and searched through his email inbox. When he found the photo, he saved it to his phone and stared at it for a good long while.
What was going on with Catriona/Kate/Robinson/Fletcher?
A footfall sounded from upstairs. Kate was awake and moving around. Even though the soundproofing was generally pretty good, occasionally he heard a thump or a crash. He figured she was moving furniture around on her own, refusing to ask for his help. Independent as ever.
Pocketing his phone, with the photo cued up, he downed the rest of his coffee and pulled a sweater over his head. He’d done Kate a huge favor by buying her some time. The least she could do would be to answer some very reasonable questions.
Then again, so far he’d never had any luck predicting what Kate would do.
Chapter Twelve
Kate wasn’t quite prepared for the high-octane impact of Darius at her door first thing in the morning. In a heathery-brown hand-knit sweater, with his sweatpants molding to the hard muscles of his thighs, he was just…a lot. A lot of man. A lot of gleaming silver-blue eyes and husky shoulders and thick, mussed hair.
Given her two years without sex, shouldn’t she be renting to someone a little lighter on the testosterone?
She sighed and tamped down her automatic reaction to him. “Good morning. You’re up early.”
“It’s not really that early. I’m surprised you aren’t at the farm already.”
“I was up late.” No need to tell him that her sleeplessness was partly his fault. “What’s up? Urgent landlady business?”
“Not exactly. I had a visitor this morning.”
“There’s a lot of that going around, apparently. What’s wrong with people?”
A good smell wafted from him. Coffee was somewhere in the mix, along with freshly showered skin. He must have shaved, because for once she saw no dark stubble on his jaw. Morning Darius—clear-eyed and clean-shaven—was just as attractive as all the other Dariuses she’d encountered.
He didn’t respond to her jab the way he usually did, with light humor. His firm lips didn’t curve into that smile she’d come to anticipate. “This visitor was from out of town. California, in fact.”
Fear stabbed through her, hot and fast. She reared backwards, away from Darius.
Shut the door. Get him out.
She nearly slammed the door in his face, but he stopped it with one hand. Before she could get a word out, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
“Kate, it’s okay.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“What? No.” He frowned in confusion. “Why would he threaten me? He was quite friendly and professional.”
Professional. A professional assassin maybe? She shook herself back to reality. Her father’s crew might be criminals, but they weren’t killers.
“Who was he?” she asked. Might as well get this over with. “Did he give a name?”
“He’s a private investigator named Ethan James, from Los Angeles.”
A private investigator! Her eyes went wide. She’d been careful not to give anyone any forwarding information, just in case it got into the wrong hands. Apparently it had taken an investigator to track her down.
“He was looking for you,” Darius went on. “Two different names came up.”
“What did you tell him?” she asked nervously, biting on a fingernail. She had no clue what an investigator wanted with her, but it was clear what Darius wanted. Answers.
“Nothing. I got rid of him. I figured I’d let you tell me what was going on.”
Oh God, this was bad. Darius probably thought she was on the run from the law, using a fake name, or some other nefarious thing.
His eyes held hers. She read concern in them, but also some suspicion.
She couldn’t blame him for that.
She wrestled back the impulse to tell him to butt out and mind his business. He’d done her a favor just now. If any man was trustworthy, it might be Darius Boone. It was worth a shot, anyway.
She hauled in a long breath. “Better come in.” She led the way to the living room, which she’d just finished furnishing a few days ago. The infamous carpet was now covered with a coffee table, along with a few strategically placed throw rugs.
Morning light poured through the window and danced across the hardwood floor in honey-colored beams. Her mug of coffee sat steaming on the coffee table, next to her laptop. She’d been peacefully answering emails, sipping her hazelnut French roast, before Darius had shattered her calm.
Darius went to the sliding glass door that let onto the deck and scanned the street out front. “Just making sure he’s gone.”
“Did he say what he was after?”
“Like I said, he was looking for Catriona Fletcher or Catriona Robinson. He showed me a picture.” Darius came toward her and showed her his phone. Her old work photo from the law firm. Wonderful.
“Crappy photo, huh?” she said lightly. “Why are work photos always so unflattering?”
He didn’t smile. “It’s from your old job? When you were a lawyer?”
“Yes. From the law firm of Bustos, Bagwell and Gonzalez. I was a lowly second-year associate when I left. And yes, they knew me as Catriona Fletcher. I used that name for…” she made a face. “Reasons.”
“Reasons,” he repeated flatly.
She tried a winning smile, but it made no impression on him.
“You’re going to give me more than that, right? Because I have his number right here on this card and all it will take is a phone—”
“Extortion? Really? You’d stoop so low?”
“Legal terms? Really? You’d stoop that low?”
She pressed her lips together and turned away from his gaze, which seemed to see right through her. “It’s…it’s embarrassing. The kind of sordid story you’d read about in a tabloid. But if you really want to hear it…”
He plopped himself down on the couch, his thighs spread like twin oak trees. “I really want to hear it.” That voice left no room for doubt.
She sighed and sank down on the couch cushion farthest from him. “I don’t even know where to start,” she groaned.
“How about this? I’ll ask questions. I’ll start with why you looked so scared when you heard about Ethan James.”
“No, no, that’s a terrible place to start. That’s practically the end.”
He rolled his eyes at her. “Good God, you’re stubborn. Start wherever you want. How about your name. Why the two names?”
But that didn’t feel like a good place either. “Just…” She waved him away. “Let me tell it. I’ll start with the day I was emancipated. I was seventeen years old and I got tired of
being yanked around between my father the grifter and my mother the gypsy. So I emancipated myself and I chose my own last name just to make the point extra clear.”
She snuck a glance at his impassive face.
“I used Catriona Fletcher all through college and law school and at work. I didn’t want my professional reputation associated with my father. He’s slightly notorious in Southern California. I didn’t want people connecting me with a small-time criminal. I mean, I had my own issues, you may have heard.”
“Naughty Kate.”
She cringed. “Exactly. But that was kid stuff, and I wanted to put it behind me. Kate Robinson was a pile of trouble. Catriona Fletcher, on the other hand, had her shit together.”
He cocked his head, waiting for more.
Oh God, this was hard. Her habit of secrecy was so ingrained. “Hey, you want some coffee?”
He laughed, the deep sound rolling through her. It was oddly reassuring to hear that laugh, in a “not everything has been destroyed” kind of way. “You don’t have to be so squirrely, Kate. I’m not the enemy, I promise.”
“I know you’re not.” For a moment she wished she could lean against his broad, solid chest and forget about all this. “Though we did start out that way.”
“Only until we met.” His silvery eyes gleamed at her. She sighed and tucked a lock of hair behind her ears. She hadn’t even showered yet this morning, let alone brushed her hair. She probably still had sleep in her eyes. She’d barely remembered to grab her old UCLA hoodie before opening the door.
It just showed you how quickly life could change.
“Hang on,” she told him. “I’ll be right back.”
“You aren’t going to disappear out the back door, are you? If so, can I have dibs on the rug?”
She laughed despite herself. “No, I just want to put on a bra. You caught me by surprise. You can’t expect a girl to bare her secrets without some support.”
His lightning-fast glance at her chest gave her some satisfaction.
Once she’d put on a bra and brushed her hair into a more orderly ponytail, she felt more ready to deal with this situation. She poured another mug of coffee and brought it to Darius, who was standing at the sliding door again.
“Just so you know, that investigator won’t give up easily,” he told her. “I’m keeping an eye out for you.”
She nodded and handed him the coffee mug. Propping her butt on the arm of the couch, she picked up her own mug and took a long bracing gulp. “Where were we?”
He leaned against the wall and cupped the mug in both hands. She wished they were still next to each other, but knew it would be easier this way.
“Working at a law firm, following the straight and narrow?”
“Yes, exactly. It was everything I’d imagined. Everything I’d worked for. I was completely independent. I had a mortgage on a condo in Westwood. I had a red Miata that I drove to the office. I worked all the time. All the time. When I wasn’t working, I’d go to brunch or dancing with my girlfriends. I dated now and then but it was never my priority. I rarely heard from my parents. It was a completely selfish existence, exactly what I used to dream about. I was one of those kids who basically raised themselves because their parents had no clue and also didn’t care to learn. Emma was my only real ‘parent’ growing up. And I only saw her in the summers. Anyway—” She took a break for a sip of coffee. “Is this boring you?” she asked hopefully.
“Absolutely not,” came Darius’ firm answer.
She sighed. Of course not. Darius looked like he’d been permanently planted there next to her view of Misty Bay.
“So then one day my father surfaced. He was in trouble with a group of lowlife scammers who ran a fake supplement ring, among other things. They also sold fake timeshares and forged yacht titles and I don’t even know what all. He had a kind of salesman role with them—that’s his forte, he can talk anyone into anything.” She flashed a wry smile. “I may have inherited my ability to argue a case from him. He’s not all bad.”
Darius lifted an eyebrow, looking unconvinced about that. “Let me guess. He needed legal help.”
“Yeppers. The DA had started an investigation, and the others were trying to set him up as the ringleader. He was almost out of money and couldn’t get a lawyer to help him. So.” She hauled in a long breath. It still hurt to think about this part. “My law firm wanted nothing to do with it, so I left the firm and represented him myself. I got him a deal that allowed him to testify against the others in exchange for house arrest. Pretty fricking great deal. Apparently the DA found him ‘charming.’”
She put that last word in air quotes because she herself no longer found Frank Robinson at all charming.
“Do you have any idea how much I wish there was whisky in this coffee?” she quipped.
Darius gave her the most sympathetic smile she’d seen from him yet. “You’re doing great. But I have a feeling the worst is yet to come.”
“It is.” She hauled in another long breath. “After my father gave his testimony, scary things started happening. Death threats on my phone. Graffiti on the door of my condo. Tires slashed. I looked into hiring a bodyguard.”
“Didn’t the DA help?”
She shook her head impatiently. “It had nothing to do with them. I like to handle my own problems.”
“At least some things haven’t changed,” he said dryly.
Point taken.
“I knew it was the scammers. I kept hoping they’d forget about me. But then it escalated. Someone broke into my condo one night. I had already put a deadbolt on my bedroom door and mapped out an exit just in case. So I got out of there before they came in. But it was terrifying. They broke the door and ripped up my favorite pillow. Goose feathers everywhere.”
Weeks later, she could sort of make a joke out of it. But not really, especially with Darius looking like a thundercloud leaning against the wall. “Jesus. Where was the bodyguard?”
“He was just a part-timer, it was all I could afford. Anyway, at that point I decided that I needed to leave town. My career was in shambles anyway. I didn’t feel safe anywhere I went in LA. I wanted to get as far away as possible, and Lost Harbor, Alaska, fits that description. I sold my condo and bought a plane ticket here, where no one has ever heard of Catriona Fletcher. Until now. Now, I’m screwed.”
Darius came over to her and put a hand on her shoulder, reassurance radiating through its weight and warmth. “Are you worried that Ethan James is working for those criminals? I don’t think so.”
“You don’t know that. Criminals hire lawyers too. If I wanted to represent bad guys, I could make a fortune.”
He absorbed that with a flicker of his eyelids. “He seemed like a decent guy. He said something about wanting you to testify in a case. He left me his card. How about if I act as a go-between so I can find out more from him? If I get any hint of anything suspicious, I’ll drop it.”
She chewed at the inside of her mouth. If the scammers from LA were involved, would they really give her a head’s up by sending a polite man with a business card?
“I want to find out who he’s working for. That will tell me a lot.”
He scanned her face closely. “You’re thinking of meeting with him?”
“I can’t exactly ignore him. It’s a small town, and if he’s any good, he’ll keep on popping up. Unless I want to flee into Lost Souls Wilderness, I should probably just face him. And believe me, I’m not the roughing-it-in-the-wilderness type. Jess and Maya can confirm.”
“Let’s do some research on Ethan James and his agency first.”
He pulled out his phone, but she reached out a hand to stop him. “You don’t have to do that. This is my problem. You have a whole firehouse to worry about.”
His blue-gray gaze clashed with hers. “Oh hell no. You’re not pushing me away on this. I’m in the middle of it and I’m not going anywhere.”
A sneaky thrill of pleasure shot through her at his words. Not just h
is words, but his manner, like some kind of Highland warrior ready to take up arms to defend her.
“Fine,” she conceded. “You can look up Ethan James while I make a few calls.”
He did more than that. While she curled up on her couch and talked to her contact at the DA’s office, he wandered into her kitchen and came back with breakfast.
A plate of blueberry pancakes, to be exact. Which he must have made from scratch, because she didn’t have any pancake mix on hand.
Impressive.
The pancakes were the perfect balance between hearty and fluffy. She gorged herself as she listened to the ADA talk about a class-action suit filed against the doctor who had vouched for the fake supplements.
“These are amazing,” she told Darius when she’d finally completed the call. “How’d you learn to make such good pancakes?”
“I always make pancakes when I work an overnight shift, so long as I’m not out on a call. My crews expect it now. I’ve spoiled them. We don’t work a lot of overnight shifts here, just in the summer. But the tradition continues. So what’d you learn?”
“Sounds like they’re busy with other things. My contact thinks the chances that they’ve sent someone to Alaska are zero. Anything on this Ethan James?”
“Clean as a bottle of detergent. Excellent reputation. Stellar record. I forgot to mention that he’s friends with Padric Jeffers. You could also contact him for a reference.”
“Oh sure, just call up Padric Jeffers out of the blue.” She was familiar with the rock star, but only through Zoe Bellini, his fiancée. “That’s okay, I’m willing to take a chance and meet him for myself.”
“Good.” He tugged a business card from the pocket of his sweats. “Want me to call him or do you want to call him yourself?”
“I’ll call him myself, of course.” She plucked the card from his hand and looked at the name and contact information printed on it. The James Agency. Los Angeles, California. The words gave her a sudden chill. They brought back those fearful moments during her last days in LA.
And she realized…she didn’t want to do this alone.
“But I…would be grateful…I mean, if you have the time…”
Naughty All Night Page 9
