by Kyle, Celia
Charlie leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with either amusement or interest. Maybe both. “However did you talk Kass into relinquishing all of his ill-gotten gains?”
“Oh, that part was easy,” she said with a half-shrug. “I told him if he didn’t, I’d turn him in and he’d rot in the Othercross dungeons with a nasty spell on him so he’d be locked in animal form for the duration. I was so pissed off he didn’t doubt me for a second.”
“He must not have responded well to that.”
“You could say that. He totally freaked out and admitted that he hadn’t even planned the burglary himself. He’d been hired by someone on the dark web with a screen name of aleistercrowley to steal everything in the safe. Anything else in the house was fair game.”
“What was in the safe?” Ragan asked, his voice hoarse with anger.
“According to Buddy, a pile of cash, some papers, and a thumb drive. That’s it. I’m afraid he delivered it all to a blind drop minutes after I kicked him out of my car. My dad’s car. He was planning to fence the rest of it today, but we got to him first.”
Charlie scanned the sheet of paper he’d been referencing when inventorying the duffel bag and nodded. “That tracks. The only things unaccounted for on Mr. Bradford’s list of stolen items are the contents of his safe, including five thousand dollars in cash and a USB drive worth less than ten bucks.”
“Why would a famous actor worth millions even bother listing such a low-cost item?” Ragan asked, sounding more interested than upset.
“That’s what you’re going to find out,” Charlie answered. “You’ll have to go chat with our client.”
“Can I go too?” Elissa asked.
Both men looked at her like she’d grown a second head, but Elissa held her ground. “Look, I’ve fessed up to everything, brought back the stolen stuff, and solved your mystery for you. I’m going to write that positive piece about the agency, as promised, but you also promised my editor that you’d give me full access for the article. It’s not my fault you assigned me to hang around Ragan.”
“Not my fault either,” Ragan groused.
Charlie’s gaze bounced between them, Elissa hopeful, Ragan defiant. Finally he threw his hands up.
“Fine, you can ride along, but Ragan’s going to watch every move you make. Got it?”
She nodded happily. Having Ragan’s gaze track her was exactly what she wanted, more than just about anything. But before she could stand and walk out with him, the phone on Charlie’s desk rang.
“Volant speaking.”
A dark shadow swept across his face and his brow furrowed as he listened. He barely even grunted a goodbye before placing the phone in its cradle. He stared at it for a long time before looking at them both, his expression more serious than when she’d admitted to being the getaway driver.
“The question about what’s on the USB has been answered. And now, we have a problem.”
Chapter Eight
Ragan wasn’t ready to be in an enclosed space with Elissa, yet here he was, driving her over to the literal scene of the crime. Honestly, he couldn’t believe Charlie had agreed to let her tag along on this interview—Ragan’s first solo chat with a client in the field. It should have been a glorious moment, full of triumph and excitement, but all he felt was tension from her betrayal.
Okay, that might be a strong word for what she’d done, but it felt like betrayal to Ragan. Any trust that had developed between them had been obliterated. How could it not be? She’d gone from being into him, to running from him, to being cooperative and sympathetic, right back to making demands like this was some kind of corporate negotiation instead of a criminal case.
Not that it mattered, but he still had no idea how much, if any, of her affection had been real. Worse yet, his mixed feelings about her were making his draconic instincts go bonkers. Dragons had an innate sensitivity to deception, but it didn’t seem to work very well around Elissa.
“Wow,” she said cautiously, as if testing the waters, “I can’t believe that USB had a, um…”
“Sex tape on it?” Ragan finished tersely. “That’s Hollywood for you, I suppose.”
“Does he seem like, you know, that kind of celebrity?” Elissa ventured.
He shrugged and kept his eyes on the road. “Never met him. But if he filmed himself with some deranged groupie, it’s certainly come back to bite him in the ass.”
“Do you think he’ll pay the blackmailers what they’re asking for?”
“Again, I have no idea. Five million is a lot of scratch to scrounge up on short notice.”
Ragan wished she’d stop talking. More than that, he wished she’d stop looking at him. He could feel her violet gaze on him, never wavering. Mixed with her tempting scent, his manhood and his dragon were riled. It took all of his strength to push those feelings aside and focus on the road.
“This is going to sound bad,” she admitted, twiddling with a lock of her black hair idly, “but this is exactly the sort of thing I always fantasized about covering when I graduated from journalism school.”
Ragan shot her a sideways glance. “Which you’re not going to do.”
“Of course not,” she said quickly, a smile forming on her perfect, pouty lips. “A deal’s a deal, but man…” She sighed happily and gazed out the window like she was daydreaming. “Blackmail, celebrities, skeletons in the closet, sex scandals… It’s every journalist’s dream come true.”
At his pointed silence, her smile faltered. “It’s probably how you felt when you figured out the car was registered to my dad.”
Ragan kept his expression flat as he recalled the moment Cray Pardus’s name had flashed on his computer screen. Jubilant would be a good word to describe it. Eager to make a name for himself. Relief at cracking the case wide open before any of the others, only to have to shut it down because of a back-door deal. Yeah, he understood her frustration at not being able to break the story better than anyone. Not that he was going to let her off the hook that easily.
“We’re here,” he snapped simply as he pulled into the exact spot Elissa had parked to wait for Buddy. Force of habit, not to mention good manners, led him to opening her door for her, but he refused to be charmed by her sweet smile and light touch on his arm.
“Just so you know, Mr. Bradford is human,” he said as they approached the grand entrance of the home.
“Really? I mean, I always thought he was human, but once I’d heard he was a client of yours, I assumed he must have shifter blood in him.”
“It’s unusual for humans to know of our existence, but he married a shifter.”
A few minutes later, they were in Stark Bradford’s private office on the second floor of his home. Framed movie posters lined the walls, documenting the actor’s rise to fame and fortune. A series of tall windows offered a view of the majestic Pacific Ocean. Stark stood at one of the windows, staring out into the endless vista, dressed in jeans and a white button-down with one too many buttons undone. His wavy blond hair sparkled in the sunlight, no doubt thanks to his stylist’s highlighting genius rather than endless hours surfing.
A small boy frolicked in the surf line with a nanny watching nearby. Ragan would have bet good money that Wyntir was within eyesight of the pair, keeping her distance as Charlie had ordered, but ready to leap into action if needed.
“He’s only seven,” Stark said as he watched the boy. “I haven’t told him about any of this yet. I don’t want him to feel scared in his own home. You know?”
“Of course,” Ragan said, shooting Elissa a look that said Keep your trap shut. Which was a mistake because his eyes naturally dropped to her mouth. Her sweet, delicious, kissable mouth.
“I’m sorry,” Stark said, turning to face them and thankfully pulling Ragan out of his temporary stupor. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Ragan DeFever, sir. I’m the cybersecurity specialist at Wildridge.”
“Right. My mind’s all over the place right now.” The famou
s movie star turned his megawatt smile on Elissa, dredging up a flare of jealousy inside Ragan’s chest. “And you are…”
Ragan stepped between them before Stark could get his sexaholic hands on her. “Ms. Malkin is a, um, consultant on this case. Her role is purely observational.”
Stark’s gaze bounced between them for a moment, and then a knowing smile slid onto his paparazzi-worthy lips. “Ah. Gotcha. Why don’t you both have a seat?”
They settled on a plush white sectional that probably cost more than Ragan’s SUV. Ragan let Elissa sit down first and then took a seat as far from her as possible and pretended not to notice her hurt expression. Stark slumped into a matching armchair and raked a hand through his ridiculously perfect hair.
“So…you’re here about…”
He was clearly uncomfortable with the subject matter so Ragan smiled to put him at ease. “We’re just as interested in discretion on this matter as you are, Mr. Bradford. But more than that, we want to help you get that drive back.”
“Of course you do,” Stark said with a dark chuckle. “It wouldn’t look good for you if news of this got out. Me either, but I’m not worried about me or you. My only concern is for my son, Blaise. If the world learned about this…”
“They won’t, sir,” Elissa said fiercely, any hint of salacious interest vanished from her face. “I can promise you that. Wildridge is the best of the best and their team—”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Ragan interrupted before she blabbered them into trouble. “Let me ask you, sir, who else knew about the footage?”
“I’ve been racking my brain over that very question and I can’t come up with a single person. You see, the only other person who knew it existed is… She passed away three years ago.”
They sat in silence a minute as Ragan did the math in his head. “Oh.”
Stark nodded somberly.
Elissa’s gaze bounced between them. “Oh, what? What did I miss?”
“The video is of me and my late wife. We made it on vacation in Fiji and kept it locked in the safe at all times. I never told a soul it existed so I have no idea why anyone would steal it from my safe. Honestly, it’s the only thing taken that I give a shit about. The rest of it—” he said, waving a hand at the black duffel bag filled with his stolen belongings “—means nothing to me. It’s one of the few things I have left of her.”
“I’m so sorry,” Elissa offered, blinking back tears and sniffling a little.
Ragan wondered if she was putting on a show, but deep down he knew she wasn’t. A shame because that would have made hating her a lot easier.
Stark nodded his grim appreciation for the condolences like he’d done it a thousand times. No doubt he had. “Don’t suppose you have any leads.”
Ragan exerted extra effort to not glance at Elissa. “As I mentioned before, a tip led us to the stolen goods we brought you, minus the contents of the safe, of course. But while we’re on the subject, let me ask if the word aleestercrowlee means anything to you.”
Stark cocked his head and frowned, as puzzled as Ragan. “Do you mean Aleister Crowley?”
This time Ragan did look at Elissa, who was trying to hide a snicker. She’d known how to pronounce it all along and let him look like an idiot. If it wasn’t completely unprofessional, he’d tickle her until…
With a shake of his head, he returned his attention to Stark.
“Probably so.”
Stark shrugged. “He was into the occult and other freaky shit. Right? I remember hearing the name in bar trivia a few times, but I think he died a couple hundred years ago. Why do you ask?”
“It’s probably nothing,” Ragan fudged. “Can I ask why you didn’t tell Charlie what was on that drive?”
Stark met Ragan’s gaze, his clear green eyes boring into him like a laser. “To protect my son, not to mention his memory of his mother. I was hoping it would be found quickly and quietly.”
“Can you tell us about her?” Elissa asked softly, her eyes misty.
“What do you want to know? That her laugh sounded like leaves rustling on a summer breeze? How she inspired everyone around her to become the best possible version of themselves? That she never forgot her friends’ birthdays? That her Starbucks order was a caramel macchiato? Or that she was the love of my life and I knew it the instant I saw her?”
Elissa sniffled but Ragan didn’t dare look at her. A lump had formed in his own throat, despite himself, and seeing Elissa’s tears over Stark Bradford’s lost love wouldn’t make it any better.
“So it was love at first sight?” he asked.
Stark smiled, the pain still visible but not as fresh as it no doubt once was. “We clicked so fast it was terrifying and thrilling at the same time. That instant spark is a deadly little thing, irresistible as it is.”
“But it sounds like it served you two well in the long run.” A spark of hope made Ragan’s heart beat a bit faster.
“Well, that’s not to say we didn’t have our problems, but we learned to work through them. In fact, I’d be kidding myself if I said the rough patches early on weren’t part of the fun. Someone who can challenge you and build you up all at once… You don’t find that every day.”
“And how did you do that? How did you work through those rough patches?
Ragan knew that had nothing to do with the case, but he couldn’t help asking. He needed to know, for some reason.
“Communication. We talked about everything, even when we were pissed off at each other. That was hard to get used to, after she passed—the deafening silence that filled the house.”
Stark stood and returned to the window and the view of his son playing on the beach. “And Blaise is the only thing that kept me sane. I owe it to what’s left of our family to keep Fara’s memory out of the mud. That tape was an anomaly, a fun diversion on vacation. Normally, she was very modest—the perfect wife and mother.”
He placed a hand on the glass to brace himself as he dropped his head. His shoulders shook with silent tears, so Ragan gave Elissa a look that said it was time to go.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Bradford,” he said as he stood. “We’ll keep you updated on any news.”
Barely making a sound, they left him to grieve alone, the weight of Stark’s love for his wife hanging over them like the ever-present LA smog. Ragan stared out of the windshield at nothing in particular while Elissa remained silent next to him, waiting. For what, he wasn’t sure. It took him a couple of minutes to muster the courage, but he finally asked the most important question he had for her.
“Hungry?”
“Famished,” she replied.
Instantly.
* * *
“God, it’s been a long day,” Elissa sighed, feeling weary to her bones but invigorated at being in Ragan’s presence.
“That’s the understatement of the year,” Ragan agreed.
His warm smile gave her hope that all wasn’t lost. They moved a step forward in line at the food truck. Despite the last insane twenty-four hours, the evening was nearing perfection. The blazing Southern California sun was slinking toward the horizon, seeming to melt into liquid gold. Streaks of melon pink and orange stretched across the sky, making the clouds look extra fluffy and shaded. It resembled a Renaissance painting, like something one might see on the ceiling of an ancient cathedral. And it felt like ages ago that the sun had risen.
Yesterday felt like a lifetime ago. As it turned out, her brush with a life of crime, however brief it may have been, was exhausting, and she never wanted to taste it again. Life on the right side of the law suited her better, especially because that was also where Ragan would always be. And more than anything, she wanted to be wherever he was.
So when he’d offered to buy her dinner in a park near the Wildridge Security offices, she couldn’t agree fast enough. Driven by an inexplicable magnetism whenever he was close, Elissa wondered if she was becoming addicted to him. Every glance or brush of his arm against hers as they s
tood in line was enough to set her heart on fire.
Butterflies flitted around in her stomach and it was all she could do to keep from grinning like a fool. So much terrible stuff had befallen her recently, and yet she felt oddly renewed when Ragan was around. Like she’d finally found her happy place. They hardly knew each other, and she certainly had not given him a fantastic first impression. But neither of them could deny the powerful attraction sizzling between them. Even though neither had brought it up in conversation yet, Elissa could sense he felt it too.
As soon as they reached the front of the line, Ragan ordered them each a chicken gyro and a side of fries to split. Elissa wasn’t normally charmed by dates who ordered for her, but Ragan was different.
“How did you know I wanted chicken?” she asked as they stepped to the side to wait for their food.
He seemed to think about it for the first time, looking stumped for a moment. Then he simply shrugged and said, “Easy guess.”
“Fair enough.”
“But trust me, you’re still full of mystery, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Full of mystery?” she asked, blushing. “I’m hardly that.”
“Well, you’re pretty damn intriguing to me.”
Once they got their gyros, they set off walking as they ate, strolling along as if they didn’t have anywhere else they wanted to be. For her part, she didn’t.
“I’m sorry for not being upfront about my involvement in all of this, Ragan,” she said honestly. “That was a mistake. Even back then, after knowing you for all of three seconds, I knew I could trust you. I should have listened to that instinct, but I second-guessed myself, as usual. I was just terrified to have you look at me that way.”
“What way?” Ragan asked, polishing off his gyro.
Elissa rolled her eyes. “That way. The way you looked at me when I told you I was Buddy’s unwitting getaway driver. Like I’m some hardened criminal you can’t trust. Like I’m a liar and a cheat. Like—”
