by Beck, Keira
Alana sat beside him, scrolling through rehearsal dinner pictures on her phone and explaining everyone’s relationship to the bride and groom.
Everyone’s features had begun to blur together, and he was itching to get on the road and talk to some of these people. They had a long drive ahead of them.
“This is Kristina.” She tipped the phone so he could get a better look at the woman’s face.
“And who’s she?”
“Haven’t you been paying attention? Kristina Volkov-Bruno. Scott’s wife.”
He hated hypheners. Took too damn long to say their names. “You’ve shown me about a million people. It’s hard to keep track.”
The clerk came out of the back room and handed Declan a bag. “Your phone is inside. I downloaded everything I could. I also put it in the waterproof case you purchased. All the additional items are still in the box—cord, cube, the usual.”
Was he looking for a tip? Not happening. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” He continued to hover rather than waiting on the next customer.
It didn’t matter to Declan. The guy already got a crazy-ass commission from the sale. He nodded a farewell, then he and Alana left the store. He couldn’t help but smirk when he caught the dejected look on the clerk’s face.
Outside, he stopped mid-stride on his way to his car. A cop was putting a ticket on his windshield. “Excuse me, officer? Isn’t this a free parking area?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Then why am I getting a ticket?”
“You’re lucky I’m not having you towed.” He strode back to his squad car and drove off.
Declan swiped the ticket off the car and looked at it. “Fuckers.”
“What’s wrong?” Alana asked.
“Bastard’s ticketing me for broken taillights. They should be investigating the damage to my car, not blaming me for it.”
“You file a police report?”
“No. It’s pointless. They wouldn’t do anything about it.”
“Then how do you expect them to investigate it?”
He took a deep breath. “I don’t. What I meant was, it wasn’t my fault. They shouldn’t be busting my balls over it.”
“It’s their job.”
“God, you’re naive.”
“Me? Why would you say that?”
“Cops don’t go around writing tickets for car damage. Maybe if they pulled me over for something else, but even then, it’s usually a warning or a reminder to fix the problem.”
“Then why’d this guy single you out?”
“Because the police figured out I’m trying to prove Adam is innocent. Or more likely, they’ve been tipped off to the fact. That makes me an enemy in their eyes.”
“Is that going to be a problem for us?”
“There is no ‘us’ in this investigation.”
“Come on, Declan. You let me come with you today. You’ve already accepted my involvement. So, where to now?”
“Detroit. I need to start talking to these people.”
“Why do you keep talking about Detroit?”
“That’s where most of the guests are from, right? That’s where the Windsor’s ship embarked from.”
“Oh, I get it. Now it makes sense.”
Declan unlocked his car and held open her door. After she was seated, he rounded the hood and climbed in. He started the engine so the AC would run, but he didn’t put the car in gear. Instead, he turned toward her. “I’m confused. Why don’t we need to go to Detroit?”
“Haven’t you wondered why the ceremony was taking place in Pennsylvania waters if everyone was from Michigan? The ship only travels about twenty knots—that’s roughly twenty nautical miles per hour.”
He rolled his eyes. “I know how fast a knot is.”
“That’s ten hours on the lake just to get from Michigan to Pennsylvania. If everyone was already onboard, wouldn’t a trip to Erie be kind of pointless?”
“Mako said it was a whole weekend thing. I just figured that’s where the ship traveled to that particular day.”
“The Windsors and their half of the guests boarded in Michigan early Friday morning. They docked in Erie in the late afternoon, and that’s when everyone else joined them. The rehearsal took place in the marina, then we set sail for a sunset dinner.”
“Half the guests came from Pennsylvania?”
“Yes. Practically everyone Adam invited.”
“Your family is from here?”
She nodded.
“Scott and Kristina?”
“Here.”
“Where does Adam live?”
“Michigan. Now.”
“What’s he do for a living?”
“Mr. Windsor got him a job at the automotive plant. He supervises some of the assembly lines. I think. I don’t know. It has to do with Lean manufacturing and supply chain something-or-other. Efficiency models. If it’s important, you’re talking to the wrong person. I don’t understand what he does.”
That changed things. “I’ve been looking at this all wrong. I’ve been trying to think of a way to prove Adam wouldn’t have retaliated about the money. But what if this was never a personal issue?”
She scowled. “Did you actually think it was? Did you think my brother had something to do with Scott disappearing?”
“No. I came to this investigation trying to keep an open mind, but it wasn’t long before I realized he’s being set up. I’ve been trying to construct a scenario to explain it away. But now I’m thinking that’s not necessary. What if this is all about Adam’s job?”
Alana squeezed the bridge of her nose. “I don’t understand what he does. And I definitely don’t understand where you’re going with this.”
“Blair’s dad got his future son-in-law a job at his plant. I’m assuming it’s a high-paying, non-entry-level position.”
She shrugged.
“The automotive business is a cut-throat industry. There are probably fifty guys who feel like Adam cut in line for that job. Any of them would want to get him out of the way.”
“But he hasn’t even started yet. His first day is after his honeymoon. So none of those guys would have been invited to the wedding. And if they weren’t on board, they wouldn’t have been there to frame him. Besides, they wouldn’t have known about Scott and the argument.”
“Mr. Windsor may have invited someone who doesn’t want Adam to have that job. And that person could have overheard the argument and seized the opportunity.”
“But why kill an innocent guy and frame my brother when they could just kill Adam directly?”
“To cast blame. If somebody killed Adam, the cops would look at who had motive. But if someone killed Scott and framed Adam, there wouldn’t be a trail of blame. Not to the murderer, anyway.”
“It sounds pretty convoluted. And leaves a lot to chance.”
Declan scowled. She was right. But all the other scenarios painted her brother in a negative light. “The only other theory I have, then, is that Scott jumped.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he wanted to get out of there and thought he could make it back to shore.”
“How the hell do we prove that?”
“Unless someone saw him, I don’t know.” It wasn’t likely, anyway, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. He put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking spot.
“Where are we going, then?”
“I’d like to check the ship, but probably can’t sneak aboard until tonight. And I’d like to talk to some of the guests. But first, I want to check out Scott’s hangouts. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and he’ll turn up safe and sound at home or work.”
“I don’t think we should stakeout a police station.”
Declan chuckled. “You have a point. We’ll swing by his house, then. And maybe his wife’s company. Where does she work?”
“She manages a restaurant downtown. Samovar. Eastern European cuisine.”
“Okay. Home first, then her re
staurant. Where do they live?”
Alana directed him through town. Two minutes after they passed the amusement park, they came to a gated subdivision. The houses inside—the ones Declan could see—were massive mansions that sat on enormous, tree-lined lots.
“They live in there?” Declan asked.
“Yes. Want to go check it out?”
“It’s a gated community. And it’s still daylight. I can’t sneak past the guard right now.”
“I can get us in.”
“How?”
Alana stared at him. “I’m resourceful.”
He scoffed and looked at the gate.
She rooted through her bag, pulled out a small tin, and offered it to him. “Mint?”
“Thanks.” He popped a couple in his mouth and looked at the houses again. “Isn’t this place a little outside a cop’s means?”
“They’re a two-income family.” She chose a mint for herself before returning the tin to her bag.
“Alana, those houses probably start at a million a pop. A cop and a restaurant manager couldn’t get a loan for a guest house in a place like this.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. This is where they live. Maybe that’s the problem. Scott said his credit cards were maxed out. They’re probably living beyond their means.”
“This is beyond most people’s means.”
Alana turned her head and looked out the window—away from the subdivision. Away from him.
Realization dawned like a two-by-four to the skull. “How did you really plan on getting us through the gate?”
“What?”
“You asked if I wanted to go to Scott’s house to check things out. How were we going to get in there?”
“I know the gate code.”
“Because you live in there, right? That’s why you referred to your house as a manor back at the diner.” How closely were all these lives intertwined?
“Technically, this is where my parents live. But I stay here when I’m in town.”
“Then you know this place is out of Scott’s league.”
She turned toward him. “No. I don’t know that. I have no idea what a cop makes.”
“It’s not this much.”
“Kristina works, too. Remember?”
“Yeah. I remember. Let’s go check out her restaurant. I want to see the place that can pay a manager enough to afford a house here.”
“You don’t want to see their house?”
“Not now. It’s not like I can just glance in a window. I’d probably get arrested for trespassing if I drove down the street.”
Alana sighed but didn’t argue. Instead, she directed him back toward the restaurant district downtown. As he drove, she said, “You know, you have a poor opinion of wealthy people.”
“Sorry?”
“You make a lot of assumptions. I’m not even convinced you believe my brother’s innocent.”
He sighed. “From what I can tell, your family are good people. And Mako knows you guys far better than I do. He vouched for your brother. Besides, everything I’ve experienced so far points to a frame job. So, yeah, I believe your brother is innocent.”
“But you don’t like rich people.”
Statement. Not a question.
“That’s unfair, Alana. It’s a generalization. A big one. The situation is more complex than that. Besides, it’s not like I know many to have formed an opinion, anyway.”
“And yet you have one.”
Declan thought back to his youth, back to his schooldays where he was a scrawny kid on scholarship at a private school. All his classmates were from affluent families and didn’t need to buy ill-fitting uniforms from the secondhand bin in the principal’s office. They brought chef-prepared meals in thermal lunchboxes while he ate white bread sandwiches out of a brown paper sack. His grandmother had done all she could for him, but the best things that came of those years was learning how to take a punch, how to bury his emotions, how to push past his physical and mental barriers. He didn’t start preparing to be a SEAL at BUD/S. He began on the playground in elementary school. And it was the perceived superiority of rich, entitled kids that set him on his path.
“Maybe I do have some biases, Alana. But if I do, they’re well founded.”
“Like what?”
“We’re not investigating me.”
She pointed to the lot sandwiched between Samovar and another restaurant. Instead of pulling in, he parked along the curb across the street.
“I don’t know why you feel the way you do, Declan. But money doesn’t make the man, and it doesn’t equate to elitism. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to prove you wrong.”
“If this is about your brother, I told you, I believe he’s innocent.”
“No, it’s not about him. Not entirely. You’ve lumped me into this unfair stereotype, so now it’s about me. And I don’t want you thinking about me that way.”
Oh, she had no idea the ways he thought about her. But if she did? Well, she’d still probably want to change his mind. He met her gaze and was captivated by the frosty flecks in the depths of her turquoise eyes. They reminded him of the ocean—the dark cresting waves and light frothy foam where he finally found a sense of belonging. He found a home in the Navy. Found his family with the SEALs.
His attention must have unnerved her. Her breath quickened, and her gaze darted around the car.
Declan smiled. He’d found his equilibrium. Even tipped the scales back in his favor.
“Hey.” She patted his arm as she stared out the windshield. “There’s Kristina.”
He turned and stared at the woman she’d indicated. “She’s alone. Why would she be at work when her husband is missing?”
“You think he turned up here?”
“If he did, wouldn’t they be together? Hell, wouldn’t she look happier?”
Two men dashed out Samovar’s door and chased after her. One of them grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. The three of them engaged in a heated discussion, but even after Declan cracked the window, he couldn’t hear what was said.
A few minutes later, she yanked her arm free and stormed away.
The men turned and headed back toward the entrance of the restaurant. One of them noticed his car and paused mid-step. He elbowed his friend and they both looked his way.
Declan spun toward Alana and grabbed her shoulders. “We’ve been made. Kiss me.”
“Wha—”
But he cut her off by pulling her toward him and pressing his lips to hers.
Chapter Eight
It was supposed to be a ruse, a misdirect. Something Declan did to throw those guys off his scent.
He didn’t expect it to be a hardship. It wasn’t like she was unappealing.
It was a whole lot more than tolerable, though.
Alana went from stunned to responsive in the blink of an eye, not that his lids were open. Her lips were soft, yielding. Her sigh enticed him to deepen the kiss, an invitation he couldn’t ignore. She tasted of mint—sweet and refreshing—evoking memories of spring rains and summer nights. But it was so much more than a physical connection. She did something to him, thawed something inside. He didn’t even realize he’d been frozen until the warmth spread through him, until the heat threatened to consume him. His reaction to her was primal, visceral. As natural as breathing yet fresh, surprising.
And scary as fuck.
Alana pulled away, eyes wide and bright. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing fast and shallow.
It wouldn’t surprise him if he looked the same, and his ego wasn’t having it. “They gone?”
She blinked. “Who?”
“The guys in front of the restaurant. I figured if we looked like we were on a date, they wouldn’t think twice about us.”
“Oh.” She glanced over his shoulder and cleared her throat. “Yes, they’re gone.”
“Good.” He turned and stared out the window, searching the restaurant and lot. The men were nowhere to
be seen. His composure was MIA, too. He took a deep breath, focused on getting blood back in his brain. “Hopefully they forget all about us, and we can get on with the investigation.”
“You’re pretty hard to forget.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
His heart kicked, and he looked at her.
“A Hellcat’s pretty hard to miss.”
Ouch. That hurt. He probably deserved it, though.
She rooted in her purse, produced a tube of lip balm, and applied it in the sun visor’s mirror. She didn’t even glance in his direction.
Cool detachment. Got it. He could play it that way. Hell, he started down that road before she jumped onboard, anyway.
Declan’s phone rang. Glad for the distraction, he yanked it from his pocket and answered without looking at the caller’s ID. “Flynn.”
“It’s Mako.”
Alana tugged at his sleeve and whispered, “Put it on speaker.”
He didn’t feel like arguing, so he did. “What’s up?”
“Just heard from the attorney. He visited Adam this morning. Someone roughed him up last night.”
“Someone?” Alana said. “Wasn’t he in a private cell?”
“Guess you’re not alone, Declan.”
“Clearly.” He shot a look at her.
“Mako?” she said. “How’d they get to him? What happened? Is he okay?”
“He’s beat up, but he’s fine. He’s not talking about what happened. The lawyer told him he could file a police brutality suit, but he won’t even admit it was a cop who had a go at him. Might not have been, anyway.”
“Not directly.” Declan sighed. The Wall of Blue was fucking formidable. He couldn’t blame them. It was all about loyalty and brotherhood, and as a former SEAL, he got that. If he was in their shoes, he’d be out for blood, too. But it would be nice if they found the right guy first. “Bail hearing tomorrow morning?”
“Yeah. The attorney isn’t too optimistic. Cop killers don’t usually get off cheaply, if at all. And since money isn’t really an object for him, it’s likely the bail will be set extraordinarily high. If that happens, they can argue an Eighth Amendment violation, but—”
“But no one ever wins those.”
“Right.”
Declan ran his hand through his hair. “Shit.”
