Reunited with the P.I.

by Anna J. Stewart

  “First thing, Simone. Don’t make me hunt you down. I’ll get that warrant issued before I turn in for the night. Should be processed by the time you get up. As if you’re going to sleep.”

  Truer words were never spoken. “Thank you.” She turned off her phone and dumped it into her bag.

  When she ran her hands through her hair, she felt shaky. When she’d gotten out of bed this morning, she’d had little to worry about other than her usual before-court butterflies.

  That she’d ended the day sitting across from her ex-military ex-husband was something she couldn’t have fathomed if it had been written by a bestselling novelist.

  Vince. Simone groaned.

  Why couldn’t he have acquired a beer gut, grown a Santa beard or at the very least developed an attitude worthy of a hermit who’d been done wrong by his woman? Because he was Vince.

  Six feet and more of solid muscle with arms she’d bet could wrap around the world as easily as they’d wrapped around her. A face that was a cross between chiseled perfection and stony acceptance. Vince had taken the buzz cut to the extreme, his barely there hair making her fingers itch to explore. That he hadn’t shaved in what she guessed was almost a week should have put her off, but instead the stubble boosted her estrogen levels. He could still melt her with that steely, blue-eyed stare of his. She’d never met someone who could read her so easily, someone she couldn’t hide from. That had been intoxicating and more than a bit scary. Whatever mask she attempted to don, whatever attitude she cloaked her insecurities in, it always fell away around him.

  It also didn’t hurt that he could turn her on as easily as one struck a match. Their first kiss was the best she’d ever had. Their second? She blew out a long breath. Until Vince, every minute of her life had been meticulously scheduled, keeping her on the road she’d sworn to walk twenty years before. Until Vince, she’d never considered another path. She should have known the one impulsive move she’d made in her life—marrying him in less than three months of meeting him—would end in disaster.

  What unsettled her more than anything, however, was the fact that now that she’d seen him again, she realized how much she’d missed him.

  She murmured her thanks to Travis as he delivered an oversize mug of steaming coffee. She’d always thought Vince owning a bar was a bit of a pipe dream, one of those “maybe someday” goals that she’d encouraged. Sure that was when he was thriving as an investigator and turning away clients by the carload. Part of her had expected a run-down hole in the wall, not this polished, welcoming pub that she’d bet did exceedingly well during sports seasons.

  Located in downtown Sacramento, and close enough to the new arena and entertainment complex to ensure a steady customer base, this place appeared to have given Vince everything he’d ever wanted. At thirty-five, and after having served in Afghanistan, he’d been out of the military a good six years. No doubt he still valued the Corps, given the name of the bar. He’d be smart to turn away from this mess she’d brought him. Their marriage might have gone down in flames, but aside from Allie and Eden, and perhaps Cole Delaney and Jack McTavish, there wasn’t anyone else she could trust. Vince had not only refused any spousal support when they’d separated, he’d walked out of their marriage with the same military duffel bag he’d arrived with.

  Simone squeezed her eyes shut and leaned her chin on her hand. What was she doing here? Asking for his help and taking a dangerous stroll down memory lane? She inhaled the aroma of frying burgers, hot oil fries, fresh brewed beer and...she sniffed and opened her eyes as Vince deposited a large plate in front of her. “You made me a steak?”

  “I was fresh out of lawn.”

  Despite the joke, he barely cracked a smile. What she wouldn’t give to hear that laugh of his. That unexpected and infrequent burst of humor never failed to lighten her heart. “You sound like Allie.” Her stomach growled as she unwound the napkin-wrapped fork and knife. He’d acquiesced to her vegetable preference by loading half her plate with steamed broccoli. Memory like a steel trap, that’s for sure. If only they could both forget certain personal things as easily. “I wasn’t complaining. It looks great.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve ditched that menu app that tells you when you can have your one-red-meat-a-month meal?”

  “I kicked it up to two a month,” she said, smiling. The baked potato swimming in butter could very well throw her into a carb panic, but it would be worth every glorious calorie.

  He set his own steak dinner on the table—sans broccoli—and reclaimed his seat. “I did consider throwing it all in a blender so you could drink it.”

  “That would have been a crime.” She cut off and stuck a rather large piece of fillet in her mouth. “Thank you.” When she looked at him, she found him watching her, tight gaze on her mouth. Out of nerves—or maybe to test the waters—she licked her lips and tasted tiny droplets of butter.

  “Don’t, Simone.”

  She swallowed and wished she had another glass of wine. “Don’t what?”

  “You know what. You’ve always made me as hot and ready as a teenager. Trust me when I say nothing has changed.”

  She bit back a gasp when his leg brushed against hers.

  “And you should know, turnabout is fair play. Thanks to that skirt you’re wearing, I bet it wouldn’t take much to find that spot on the back of your knee—”

  “Sex isn’t part of the deal.” She grabbed her coffee, drank down enough to scald her throat. The last thing she needed in her life right now was Vince Sutton in her bed.

  Vince grinned, displaying that stunning smile she’d first seen from across a ballroom at a charity event for the military one Fourth of July. The memory of him in his dress uniform and that granite-strong jaw of his, how his lips quirked and stretched into a promise of so much more than she’d ever expected came back to her. Even the medals on his chest hadn’t distracted her that night. Or the next night. Or the next.

  “Then you’d best stop looking at me like that,” he said. When he switched his attention easily to his dinner, she realized what he’d been doing.

  “You’re distracting me.”

  “Never took much,” he said. “Except that one time during the Tasher case. Do you still have that dining room table?”

  “Yes.” The steak was rare enough to bleed, so she stabbed it. Again. “Despite your best efforts to break it.”

  “Our efforts. Okay, truce. Let’s talk about something neutral. How are Eden and Allie? Other than unavailable?”

  “What makes you say that?” She cut her broccoli into tiny florets.

  “Because you’re sitting across the table from me and not having one of your wine-and-pizza confabs with them.”

  “It’s kind of creepy how you remember everything about me.”

  “You’re a difficult person to forget.”

  Great. Something else to dwell on when she couldn’t sleep tonight. “You’re right. Normally I’d have talked to them, but Allie left town tonight on business and Eden’s on her honeymoon—”

  “Eden got married?” He held up a hand. “Sorry.” She grinned at his laugh, which she’d wished for only moments before. The sound didn’t disappoint. “That came out far ruder than I’d planned. Who had the nerve to take her on?”

  “Remember Cole Delaney?”

  “Detective for major crimes?” She tried to recall Vince ever looking so shocked. “Eden St. Claire married a cop? How did I miss the headline? I didn’t think she had any time for them.”

  Simone relaxed, happy to shift to a topic she couldn’t resist. There might be conflicts between them that they’d never resolve, but one thing she’d always loved about Vince was how much he’d liked her friends. He’d also understood how important they were to her. Never once did he appear to resent them or ask her to choose between him and them. He got the importance of family
. All the more reason to regret her actions when it came to his brother. “You heard Eden had a hand in catching the Iceman a few weeks back?”

  “That I did read. Sounded as if she had a close call.”

  “Mmm.” Simone nodded. “A wake-up call, too. She decided to...shift her priorities. Good thing given what’s coming down the road.” A chill shot up her spine as she thought about Chloe’s killer rearing his head after two decades. Vicious monsters should stay locked in basements where they belonged.

  Vince shrugged and then tilted his head, a silent urging for more details that she quickly detoured away from. Chloe’s murderer didn’t have any bearing on the Denton trial, and besides, it wasn’t any of Vince’s business.

  “What about Allie?” he asked.

  “Flitting about like the goodwill fairy she is. Still a child and criminal psychologist, and still doing family counseling when she’s not consulting for the police or the FBI. Speaking of goodwill, I talked to my boss while you were in the kitchen. There’s been a change in plan.”

  “That’s a good trick considering there isn’t any plan yet. But let me guess.” Vince carved up the rest of his steak before gesturing to Travis for another coffee. “He doesn’t approve of you attempting to hire your ex-husband.”

  “I didn’t tell him about you.” She focused on her dinner again.

  “Why not?” His tone sounded as if he was suspicious.

  “Because I don’t want anyone knowing what I’m—what we’re doing. It’s tricky.”

  “I can solve that, I’m not taking the case.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Really?” Did he have to make it sound as if she’d issued a personal challenge? “No, wait. First things first. Before I turn you down again, what’s this change you’re talking about?”

  “I need to find Mara by Monday.”

  “Three days.” He stopped eating, set his fork and knife down, and picked up his napkin. He stared at her while he wiped his mouth, then pushed his plate aside and leaned his forearms on the table. “You want me to find this girl in seventy-two hours and she’s got what—almost a twenty-four-hour head start?”

  “You’re good, Vince. If I didn’t think you could do it—”

  “You said you had over a week before you had to be in court again.”

  “I do. But I need to have information to give him on Monday morning if I’m going to keep my job.”

  “So this is a bait and switch. Lure me in with promises of a cash payout and no sex and hope I’ll come through. Yeah, not real tempting, honey.”

  How did he manage to make that endearment sound so inviting? “What if I sweeten the offer?”

  “Clearly you overestimate how far my goodwill will stretch.”

  Simone reached for the blue file in her briefcase. “If you won’t help me because of the demons nipping at your heels or because it’s the right thing to do, how about you do it to help your brother?” She set the file down and waited for him to read the name Jason Sutton scrawled across the top.

  She’d considered every angle, spent the day thinking this through. As much as she hated the idea of dangling his brother’s case over his head, she couldn’t take the chance he’d turn her down. She was betting big here and not only with her career. She was gambling with Mara’s life.

  “It’s been enough time for me to gain some power in the DA’s office,” she said, dropping into the rehearsed explanation. “I can justify taking a second look at Jason’s case without raising suspicions. Help me find Mara Orlov by Monday morning and I’ll take that second look.”

  She couldn’t remember ever seeing his hands shake, but they did now as he brushed his fingers over the file before he asked, “What are the odds you’ll find something to get him out?”

  “Slim.” She sat back and crossed her arms. “I told you, I’ve been over the files before. He could have flipped on his accomplices for a lenient sentence, he could have done a lot to help himself, but instead, he played martyr and threw himself on his sword. I could have missed something,” she lied, shoving the guilt aside as she kept an image of Mara in her mind. “Something that might lessen or end his sentence.”

  “This case, your job, they’re that important to you?”

  “Mara is that important to me.” This was what she’d been dreading, what she’d hoped to avoid. Admitting the truth to anyone, that whatever trouble Mara was in could very well be her fault. “I told her I’d take care of her, Vince. I promised she’d be okay.”

  He shook his head in that slow, disbelieving manner he had. “You’re a smart woman, Simone. You know finding her, saving her, fixing her life, none of that will change what happened to you and your friends all those years ago.”

  “I am well aware.” She flinched and swallowed the tears that threatened to form. That he refrained from mentioning Chloe’s name touched her heart. “Mara’s a starry-eyed kid trying to do the right thing, Vince. Partly because she loves the excitement, but also because I talked her into it. This can’t go bad for her. I can’t let it.”

  He winced as he shifted his gaze to her empty wineglass before he took hold of her coffee cup and downed the last of its contents. “I can’t promise you the outcome you want.”

  “I know that, too.” But she’d cling to hope as long as she could. “Does this mean you’ll do it?”

  “You’re asking me to trust you with my brother’s life. Again. You want me to believe you won’t put your job, your career above Jason or even me. You’ve shown me before you’re incapable of doing that.”

  His words, however softly spoken, felt like arrows to the chest. “You’re right. I have.”

  “There’s only one thing you can say to me to convince me you’re worth taking a risk on.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You swear to me on Allie’s and Eden’s lives that you’ll do your best by my brother. You’ll come with me to see him, you’ll talk to him, reexamine every file, every bit of evidence. You swear that oath and I’ll believe you. I’ll agree to take the case.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Eden and Allie are your family. Just as Jason is mine.” He held out his hand, curling his other around the edge of his brother’s substantial criminal file. “Do we have a deal?”

  Power plays had been her bailiwick for longer than she could remember. She could outlast, outmaneuver anyone. Except maybe one man. This man. But she was out of options and Mara might be out of time. “As long as you understand this is my case. And that means following the law. My rules. My playbook.”

  “Until it needs to be mine.”

  It was as close as she was going to get. Desperation overrode common sense. Getting anywhere near Vince was asking for trouble, but if she was going to find Mara, win her case and solidify her future with the DA’s office, she didn’t have a choice. “I swear on their lives.” She locked her hand around his and braced her heart against what was to come.

  “Then we have a deal.”

  Chapter 4

  “Thanks for meeting me, Kyla.” Simone slipped into the chair across from her assistant at Monroe’s and offered her a small smile. The fifteen-minute drive from Vince’s bar to the coffee shop had given her enough time to think. And question. And have second thoughts. Then third...

  Vince had been right about one thing: she really wished she’d had Allie and Eden to talk to if for no other reason than to convince her she was wrong about where she and the case were headed. Maybe she was overreacting to something and letting fear get the best of her. Simone might have been able to cling to that belief if Vince hadn’t voiced his own similar suspicions. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

  “Like a date?” Kyla flipped the multicolored scarf behind her narrow shoulders and sent her ebony curls bouncing. “Well, I was deeply involved with this te
n-inch-thick textbook on property and tax law. Do you want coffee?”

  She’d already had enough to ensure she wouldn’t blink for weeks. “No, thanks.” Simone shook her head and waved the waitress away. “Were you able to get the information I asked for?”

  “I boxed up all your files and left them underneath the desk in your office.” Kyla cringed. “Glad you reminded me about the new email monitoring program. Printing the hard copies didn’t take me as long as I thought it would and I would have brought it all with me, but there was no way to be sneaky about it.”

  “Not to worry.” Simone added an early morning stop to the office to her mental agenda.

  “I also added the background information on Mara and everyone else that’s involved, however peripherally, in the case. I’m surprised the copy machine didn’t short out.”

  “What would I do without you?” Simone couldn’t wait to start combing through everything from top to bottom. “I appreciate you covering for me today.”

  “Felt like I was in a spy movie. Nice break from studying for the bar.” Kyla folded her hands on the table. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on or is this some roundabout method of giving me more ‘tests’ for homework?”

  “I wish that was the case. What did you hear around the office?”

  Kyla shrugged, her gaze shifting to the table. “Not much.”

  “Kyla Bertrand.” Simone pursed her lips. “You’re a beacon for gossip in that place. Spill.”

  “Okay, I might have heard that your main witness went missing, and you somehow managed to get a delay from a judge notorious for sticking to his calendar. Your colleagues started a pool on how long you’ll have a job.”

  “What odds are they giving?” Maybe she should place a bet and get a jump start on her unemployment.

  “I didn’t ask,” Kyla said with a hint of defense in her voice. “I never bet against my boss and I plan on you sitting in the big chair this time next year.”

  “I appreciate your faith,” Simone said, even as her own began to fracture. If she blew this case, the career she’d always wanted, had worked so hard for, would be over. And Paul Denton and his coconspirators—whoever they may be—would avoid justice. Something Simone refused to abide. “I wanted to keep you in the loop so you know what not to tell people.”