“I just ran into her one day. We were waiting in line at a deli and struck up a conversation. I met her for coffee after that.”
He got a faraway look, remembering.
“It must have been special,” she said.
“It was, more than I anticipated. If I’d have known...” He put down the page he held.
Something must have happened that day, something he didn’t feel good about. “Were you seeing someone else at the time?”
It was a moment before he answered, seeming surprised that she’d guessed. Most men who weren’t monogamous hid it better than he did.
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” he said.
“But you did meet someone.”
“It wasn’t intentional. I didn’t get a chance to tell Rayna before she saw me with the other woman.”
“It sounds like you cheated on her.” Funny, he hadn’t seemed like a jerk when she’d first met him.
He remained calm. “No. You don’t understand. It wasn’t serious, at least that’s what I thought at the time. I didn’t mean to hurt her. When I met the other woman, I realized that Rayna wasn’t right for me. I was going to stop seeing her.”
But Rayna had seen him with the other woman before he could. Sabrina’s disgust must have shown because he sighed in exasperation and said, “I didn’t know she had feelings for me already. We’d only dated a few times. We never even had sex. If I’d have known she was getting too serious, I would have broken things off with her sooner, but she never told me.”
She was probably afraid to. She’d probably known he didn’t feel the same, since he still wasn’t over his lost love.
Sabrina realized how deliberately aloof he was regarding relationships. His distance was his armor against love, against venturing into what he’d had with the dead woman.
“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” Lincoln insisted, sounding as though it was important she believe him.
“Were you always like this?” she asked.
He looked confused. “Like what?”
“Open to meeting other women when you’re dating someone else?”
“I wasn’t open to it,” he said angrily. “I didn’t plan on meeting someone else.”
And he and Rayna hadn’t been serious. He hadn’t intended to hurt her and wouldn’t have cheated on her. But his avoidance of serious relationships was a defense mechanism. “You must have really loved her.”
“I said I don’t want to talk about Miranda.”
“You need to.” She’d never met anyone who needed to talk more than this man did. Didn’t he see how screwy his philosophy on women had become?
No, he couldn’t possibly, or he wouldn’t believe dating other women while seeing another was okay by anyone’s standards. Whether it was discussed or not. Maybe that poor woman had seen what Sabrina now saw—that he was operating on a broken heart that was fed by guilt. She’d taken a chance on him that he’d find love again, with her.
And look what that risk had gotten her. Her very own broken heart.
When Sabrina realized she was in danger of falling into the same trap, she went cold inside. Some day she could be that woman, walking up to a restaurant patio or into a coffee shop or wherever, seeing the man she’d taken a chance to love with another woman.
She was glad he believed that she hadn’t murdered Kirby, but that was as far as her feelings would go with him from now on. If there was one thing Sabrina was good at, it was shutting down a man who didn’t meet her requirements. And number one on that list was being trustworthy. Lincoln might be trustworthy when he fell in love again, but would he ever allow himself to be that vulnerable?
Trustworthy. Faithful. Committed. Those were her three top requirements.
Number one: debatable. She couldn’t trust Lincoln based on his history.
Number two: debatable. That depended on where the line was drawn. He denied being open to meeting other women, but he had met someone and been open to seeing more of her, regardless of his status with Rayna.
Number three: absolutely not. Check, “No.” Lincoln was not a committer.
She shook her finger at him casually. “Just for the record, nothing is ever going to happen between you and me. When all of this is over, we go back to being neighbors. I’ll get my gate fixed. I don’t want Maddie going over to your place anymore.”
He sat there looking at her, confused again. “Why are you so mad?”
“I’m not mad. I’m just making sure you understand that I’m not interested in anything remotely romantic with you.”
After a moment, he answered, “All right. I can respect that. I’m just curious about one thing.”
She lifted an eyebrow.
“What are you so afraid of?”
“Me?” He was the one with the commitment problem.
“Are you afraid if I kiss you again, you’ll like it?”
Yes. “I don’t get involved with any man who’s afraid of commitment.” And hung up on another woman.
“I’m not afraid.”
Yeah, right. “Then tell me about Miranda.”
“What’s wrong with kissing?” he challenged. “What’s wrong with doing more if we feel like it?”
He was deliberately evading her. “I’m not interested,” she said.
“You were yesterday.”
She couldn’t deny that. “And when it gets too serious? What then?” It was the “what then” that she wasn’t interested in.
That stopped him. Standing up, he walked across the room and stood at the window.
Exactly what she thought. He’d run. He was running even now, getting up and walking away like that. “One more for the record.” Tapping her fingers on the table, she waited for him to turn and face her. “You were interested, too. When we kissed. But that’s as far as it goes.”
He didn’t respond, and that told her all she needed to know. He agreed. They had chemistry, but taking it further wasn’t an option—at least it didn’t seem like one.
Picking up the papers to stop her tapping fingers, she began to read; Lincoln and his commitment phobia were officially not her concern anymore. Clearing her name was her sole purpose. She began to register what she was reading and grew absorbed.
“Where did you get this?” she asked.
Striding over to the table, he leaned down, braced by one hand, brow still low after being forced to face the degree of their chemistry. It gave her slight pause. He must feel that he was more interested than expected. She had to steer temptation away from that carrot.
The paper was an extensive background on Tristan Coulter. He’d grown up poor. Both his mother and his father were dead. His stepmother was alive and ran a pastry shop somewhere in L.A. They were estranged. Tristan never went to see her. Didn’t help her financially. He had a sister and a half brother who lived in California. There was nothing in the report about them, not even their names. Divorced twice. Married to a much younger woman now and lived in a very nice, pricey-looking house. There was a picture of it. His job as an account manager paid pretty well, but Sabrina didn’t think it paid that well. She stared at the picture of a smiling Tristan, all charisma, handsome for his age of sixty, healthy, his hair just beginning to get gray, but his eyes were beady and calculating. How long had he been involved in illegal gun sales?
“No arrest record?” she asked.
“None. But if you read further, you’ll see that he was in and out of trouble through school, recurrently with two other boys who are now dead.”
She looked up at him.
“Car accident, they called it.”
* * *
Sabrina was glad she didn’t have to pretend to be Remy anymore. They’d spent much of the day trying to figure out a way to spy on Tristan, but the security was too tight at OneDefe
nse, and it was pointless to sit outside his home when he was at work all day.
By midafternoon, overcast, they had given up for the day and were on their way back to the hotel. Or so Lincoln thought.
“Take the next exit,” Sabrina said to him.
He glanced over at her in confusion. Leaned back in the driver’s seat of their Mercedes rental, his long, jean-clad thighs slightly parted in a relaxed pose, flat stomach covered by a soft and loose sage-green button-up short-sleeved shirt, chest stretching the material in all the right places, he was a dream. A clean-shaven gentleman with a daring streak.
“Just do it,” she said, thinking she sounded a little too aroused.
He’d done his fair share of checking her out. She wore a white-and-teal sundress that really flattered her figure. She’d told herself this morning that she hadn’t packed it for him.
He took the exit. “Something else you’re keeping secret?”
That ruined her glow. Wishing she didn’t have to take him along, she only instructed him where to drive. She hadn’t told him about Bonnie Edwards for a reason. Bonnie was the only living person who knew her, really knew her. Having no family anymore, her longtime friend was all she had left. Sabrina cherished her. That close bond was what drew her here. She hadn’t been able to contact Bonnie until now.
Checking behind them, she made sure no one followed. Lincoln noticed. She doubted there was anything he wouldn’t notice. Calm and collected, he drove where she indicated. They reached the gated community where Bonnie lived with her husband, an attorney who helped pursue lawsuits against supposed “patent infringements.” Despite his questionable employment, he was actually a nice man. He also treated Bonnie like a princess.
At a pale brown stucco and white-trimmed house with a three-car garage and panel of windows in the front, Sabrina told Lincoln to stop.
“Who lives here?” he demanded.
“A friend.” She got out before he could say more and walked up to the front door. She hadn’t called. Bonnie had a busy schedule of taking care of kids, going to the spa, shopping or volunteering at the Orange County Humane Society, but it was late enough now that she was probably home.
She rang the bell, Lincoln standing beside her, not happy with her secretiveness.
Bonnie answered the door. A redhead like Sabrina, her straight hair was cut short. Her green eyes were darker than Sabrina’s, and she was shorter by about two inches. She wore jeans and a blue rayon blouse, feet bare to reveal freshly painted toenails. It must have been a nail day.
“Oh,” Bonnie breathed. “Sabrina, my God.” Bonnie opened her arms, and they hugged briefly and not too close. “I’ve been so worried about you. Why didn’t you call me? I’ve been going out of my mind wondering where you were and if you were all right.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” Sabrina leaned back. “This is the soonest I could manage. I didn’t want to put you in any danger.”
With her hands still on each of Sabrina’s biceps, Bonnie nodded grimly. “It’s terrible about Kirby. Come in.” She moved aside, taking in Lincoln.
Sabrina introduced him as her neighbor who was helping her in her situation. That only marginally placated her curiosity.
“Sabrina didn’t tell me about you,” Lincoln said.
Bonnie led them through the square, marble, ornately trimmed entry with closed doors on each side and an archway ahead, through which was a large living room and kitchen area.
“Sabrina and I have known each other since we were kids,” she said as she led them into a great room. A woman waited there, wearing a maroon blouse and tan pants.
“Will you bring us some tea, Ms. Pearl?” Bonnie asked courteously of the woman.
Ms. Pearl gave a slight bow and went to do her bidding.
Bonnie had an embarrassed way of doling out orders or exerting the affluence money gave her. She was of humble roots, like Sabrina. They’d grown up in the same neighborhood. She’d met her husband in college, and they’d fallen in love. If her husband’s success had changed any of that foundation, Sabrina couldn’t see it.
“How’s the trolling business?” Sabrina asked. She always teased Bonnie over that.
Bonnie’s face sort of fell. “Dwight isn’t happy. He’s looking for another job, but no reputable firm wants to hire him. He got this job right out of college, remember?”
She did. “He’ll find something.” She was relieved he was trying to get away from that kind of business, thwarting innovation instead of promoting it as was the real intention of patents to begin with.
No sounds of children came from other parts of the house. “Kids not home?”
“They have music lessons after school today. I have to pick them up in an hour.”
They’d have just enough time. Sabrina didn’t want to stay long in case Tristan’s men caught up with them.
Bonnie sat on the sofa, Sabrina beside her. Lincoln remained standing, his gaze going over every inch of Bonnie’s house.
A pitcher of tea arrived with three glasses filled with ice. Ms. Pearl put the tray on a long, wide coffee table that held books on tropical places where Bonnie and her husband had no doubt visited.
“So tell me everything. What’s happened to you?” Bonnie said, eyeing Lincoln again. “I’ve only heard what’s in the news. And I know you didn’t kill Kirby.”
“It’s Tristan. He’s selling guns illegally at some of OneDefense’s stores.” She told her all about Tristan killing Kirby and the reason she had to flee to Denver.
Bonnie’s eyes rounded and her mouth dropped open. “Oh, you poor thing. Well, at least you aren’t alone. You have Lincoln here.”
“Yes.” Sabrina didn’t fall for the lead-in that let her know Bonnie was fishing for more details on Lincoln. He was handsome enough to qualify as potential boyfriend material.
“Have you gotten anything on Tristan?”
“Not yet.” Unfortunately, what she had gotten, she’d lost.
“I thought there was something off-color about him. You said Kirby didn’t trust him, either.”
She looked at Lincoln, who patiently waited. “No, he didn’t.”
“You talked about it?” Bonnie asked.
“Not really.” She sipped her tea. “It was more of a feeling.”
“I didn’t know you were that close,” Bonnie said, more leading in to what she wasn’t asking directly. “If you’d have had more time, I bet something would have happened between the two of you.”
“I don’t think so.” Bonnie didn’t understand, and Sabrina wasn’t going to enlighten her right now.
“Why not? He was attractive enough. A little older than you, but attractive.”
Kirby had been seven years older than her. “Nothing was going on between us. I liked him. He was nice, that’s all.”
Bonnie searched her face, not buying it. Sabrina shared many things with her friend, but not that. Not Kirby.
Bonnie glanced at Lincoln as though biting her tongue because of his presence, uncertain of Sabrina’s relationship with him and forever a loyal friend. Sabrina didn’t give her trust to just anyone. Bonnie was genuine all the way through and definitely someone Sabrina trusted.
“When you said you were going to work for OneDefense, I wondered if it was a bad idea,” Bonnie said. “You had it made at Pacific Life. Why did you leave? You didn’t have to.”
Lincoln wandered over, seemingly casual, but Sabrina wasn’t fooled. “Yes. Why did you leave Pacific Life?” he asked.
“I told you,” Sabrina said to Bonnie. “It was more money and I needed a change.”
“That was right after you met Kirby.” Bonnie didn’t believe her.
“That isn’t why I took the job.”
“Wasn’t it?”
Sabrina stared down her friend, who passed a lo
ok at Lincoln, clearly certain he was the reason Sabrina wasn’t being forthright. Then she turned back to Sabrina and reached over to squeeze her hand. “I’m so sorry, Sabrina. You’ve not had the best luck when it comes to men.”
Sabrina slipped her hand free of Bonnie’s, a reaction she saw Lincoln notice. She appreciated Bonnie’s concern and affection; she just wasn’t prepared to handle it right now.
Bonnie didn’t press anymore. They’d catch up later, when Lincoln wasn’t around. “The police came to talk to me,” she said. “That’s how I found out you were missing.”
“I’m sorry I put you through that.”
Before Bonnie could respond, Lincoln asked, “Why did they come to question you?”
“They wanted to know if I knew where Sabrina was. Of course, I didn’t. They asked about your relationship with Kirby.” She hesitated. “I told them what I thought.”
That he and Sabrina were involved.
“I told them you didn’t kill him, too,” Bonnie quickly added, clasping her hands on her knees. “They asked how you met him and why you took the job at OneDefense. They confirmed that Kirby fired the previous VP of HR just days before he hired you. They seemed pretty sure he did it deliberately because of his relationship with you. And then they told me about Kirby’s lover.”
Sabrina sat straighter. “Kirby was seeing someone?”
Bonnie hesitated, not expecting Sabrina’s reaction. “You didn’t know?”
“No. How would I? Do you think he would have told me?” Anger ignited and burned. How could she have been fooled—again? What was it with her and cheating men? She looked up at Lincoln, who was still watching her.
“She’s married, which was probably why he kept her a secret. And get this—after the police came here asking questions, I heard on the news that a woman went missing. It’s the same woman Kirby was seeing.”
Sabrina couldn’t control the sensation of betrayal that gripped her. Kirby had been a charismatic, ambitious man. Type-A personality, but kindhearted. Enjoyed the finer things in life, but could wear flannel and watch movies all day. She hadn’t loved him. Not yet. She had held back, waiting. Was he someone she could open up to? She hadn’t felt she’d known him well enough. In the end, he’d not only led her to Wade, he’d been having an affair with a married woman the whole time he’d been pursuing her. Somehow that was worse.
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