Mad Bad and Blonde

by Cathie Linz

  Buddy just smiled. “Have another Guinness.” He signaled their server. “By the way, I did check out Faith’s ex-fiancé, and he had no connection to your dad’s case. But you knew that already. You just said it to push Faith’s buttons, right?”

  Caine shrugged. He would have preferred his Corona over a Guinness, but Buddy had insisted on the Irish beer. He’d also insisted on dodging a direct answer to Caine’s question, but Caine could read between the lines . . . at least as far as Buddy was concerned. The rest of Caine’s life still felt pretty messed up, and reading between his own lines was a blurry business. Caine silently admitted he was guilty as charged about wanting to push Faith’s buttons. But that wasn’t the only thing he wanted to do to her. “Another Guinness isn’t going to clear my brain.”

  “Maybe not, but it makes a soul feel good, and I have a feeling your soul could use some cheering up.”

  Buddy might be an old guy, but he was right on the money with his observation. Caine was having a hard time dealing with the situation. The case had gotten more complicated. In the beginning, Caine’s only goal was to prove his dad’s innocence. Now Faith was in the mix. Caine already had enough guilt to last a lifetime without failing his father again.

  Caine was a Marine. And failure wasn’t an option for a Marine. Not even for a former Marine.

  Caine had spent over a third of his life in the Corps. He’d been trained to do what had to be done. He was part of a brotherhood that left no one behind. Yet he’d left his fellow Marines behind when he’d gotten out. A shitty decision to make. He’d been between a rock and a hard place. Not unusual for him. During his deployment he’d dealt with far worse.

  He’d had to wait two long years after his father’s suicide before his obligation to the U.S. Marine Corps was completed. He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to prove his dad was innocent of the charges against him. He owed his father that much. He owed him so much more.

  So why was he finding it so hard to adjust? His honorable discharge was three months old. Ninety-seven days, to be exact, since he’d gotten out. He’d been lucky that Vince King had hired him. So many vets coming back were finding it hard to get work.

  Vince was practically drooling at the thought of having West Investigations’ reputation stomped on, which would happen if Caine could prove his dad was innocent after all. That’s why Vince didn’t mind that Caine was spending so much time on his dad’s case. Yes, Caine was putting in extra hours to work on additional cases, but his main focus was his dad’s case.

  Your dad’s case and Faith, his conscience taunted him. You’ve focused on both.

  Yeah, that was a problem Caine didn’t know how to solve. Faith seemed genuine in her quest to discover the truth, but he wondered how long that would last once they proved her dad was wrong. What would she do then?

  Would she still kiss him with wild abandon then? Trap his hand between her legs after he gave her an orgasm? Give him that sexy smile of hers?

  Caine doubted it.

  He was a warrior. He knew all about the need to fortify perimeters so they were well-protected. Yet he’d been unable to strengthen his defenses so that Faith couldn’t get past them. Why? Was she deliberately trying to distract him so he couldn’t stay focused on the case?

  His gut told him no. But then his gut was close to another part of his anatomy that ached to have sex with her. Was he guilty of thinking with his dick?

  In Positano he’d worried about that. Worried that she’d gotten to him. Weakened him. Since then, his attraction for her had only grown more powerful.

  “You’re staring at that Guinness as if it holds the secrets of the Holy Grail,” Buddy said. “You thinking of that gal of yours?”

  “She’s not my gal,” Caine said curtly before adding, “sir.”

  “Stop calling me sir. Makes me feel old. And don’t you be telling me I am old.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “But you were dreaming of Faith.”

  “Not dreaming, no.”

  “What then?”

  “Analyzing.”

  Buddy shook his head. “Boyo, men have been trying to analyze women since Adam and Eve. Don’t waste your time. It can’t be done.”

  “Whenever someone tells me something can’t be done, that makes me more determined to prove them wrong.”

  “That’s a Marine thing,” Buddy said.

  Caine didn’t deny it.

  “What did your dad think of you joining the Marines?” Buddy asked.

  “He was okay with it.”

  “Just okay? Not bursting with pride?”

  “He was a chemist not a warrior.”

  “Did he want you to follow in his footsteps and become a chemist too?”

  “No, he let me do my own thing.”

  “From what I’ve heard, he was pretty torn up after your mom passed.”

  “He never recovered from her death.”

  “Do you think he committed suicide to be with her?”

  That possibility ate at Caine. “I don’t know.”

  “His suicide was only a few days after the anniversary of your mother’s death.” At Caine’s look, Buddy added, “I do my research.”

  Caine’s throat tightened. “I can’t say what he was thinking.”

  “Did he write you anything that could give a clue?”

  “He sent e-mails.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Not much. He’d tell a joke or two. Say work was keeping him busy, that sort of thing. No details.”

  “Did you keep the e-mails?”

  Caine shook his head. He wished he had. Hindsight was twenty-twenty.

  He’d only kept one e-mail, the final one his dad sent. It had simply said “I’m sorry. I can’t go on.”

  By the time Caine returned from a recon mission and got to read the e-mail, his father was already gone.

  Caine had been trained to serve his country first and foremost. He’d done everything the United States Marine Corps had asked of him. Now it was time to put his father first—even if it was too little, too late.

  “You know what I missed when I was in the army?” Buddy said. “Sliders. How about you?”

  “What did I miss? Being able to walk outside without body armor and a helmet. Being cool. In Iraq it got as hot as a hundred and forty-five degrees Fahrenheit, and then add the body armor.” Caine shook his head as if trying to dislodge bad memories. “I missed driving a car without looking around at people and everything suspiciously. Those are just some things.”

  “Sounds rough.”

  “It was no picnic, sir.”

  “I told you not to call me . . . Oh, I get it. You don’t want to talk about it the same way I don’t want to be called sir.”

  Caine nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Message received loud and clear.” Buddy took a sip of his Guinness. “I couldn’t help but notice that you always choose a seat facing the exit and also against a wall if you can manage it.”

  “Old habits are hard to break.”

  “Yeah, I sat in that seat myself for a long time, but I figured you need it now more than I do.”

  “It’s not a matter of need.” At Buddy’s look, he said, “Okay, maybe it is. Let’s change the subject.”

  “So I understand you’re living in an apartment in Oak Park now.”

  “I don’t live there. I’m staying there temporarily.” A Marine buddy had lent him the place while he was deployed. It was furnished, barely. A black leather recliner, large flat-screen HD TV, a bed and a table. It served Caine’s purposes perfectly. “How did you know where I’m staying?”

  “I told you, I’m a darn good PI. I also know that former Force Recon Marines with your skills and knowledge are in high demand by private security contractors willing to pay big bucks. I’m assuming you took the job with King Investigations because of your father, but do you plan on staying with them once this case is solved?”

  “I don’t know.”

&n
bsp; “Haven’t thought that far ahead, huh?”

  “Affirmative.” Caine had a hard enough time dealing with the present without dealing with the future. Time enough to worry about that after he cleared his dad’s name.

  Wednesday night Faith sat on the floor of her condo, her feet tucked beneath her yoga style as she ate beef and broccoli from her favorite Chinese takeout while reviewing the progress made on Karl Hunter’s case. She was burned out from investigating her father’s situation and needed a break. Besides, if Karl’s case was the cause of her father’s changed behavior, then the sooner she completed Karl’s case, the better.

  In between bites of food, she wrote on the yellow pad perched on her bent knee. She could have put her notes on her BlackBerry, but when she was really focused, she reverted to pen and paper.

  1. Weldon thinks/believes Karl is innocent.

  2. Weldon thinks/believes someone is following him besides me and besides Caine.

  3. Caine sleeps with me then doesn’t call me for three days.

  Faith crossed that one out. “Focus,” she told herself. “He slept in the same bed. We didn’t have sex. And, yes, he still hasn’t contacted me since we made out in his Mustang on Monday night. That has nothing to do with Karl Hunter’s case. Okay, it does a little, because Caine is Karl’s son. But, really, sex has no place in this equation. Stick to the facts.”

  4. Weldon hired PI buddy to prove Karl’s innocence.

  5. Buddy and Weldon don’t like Nolan Parker.

  6. Nolan jealous of Karl. Why didn’t he invite us in when I interviewed him? That was weird. And who was tweaking the curtains inside his home, watching us?

  7. Nolan calls Fred Jr. and asks for a meeting. Is Nolan paranoid, or is someone really tapping his phone? Is it Buddy?

  8. Fred Jr. thinks his phone is being tapped because he’s suing the research company for giving his dad a brain tumor that killed him.

  9. What is Abs’s connection, if any?

  10. Why does Caine kiss me in his car and not call me?

  Faith vehemently crossed those words out, almost ripping the paper in the process.

  She was supposed to be reviewing Karl Hunter’s case, not reviewing every time she’d made out with Caine. She needed to stay focused here. What kind of investigator was she to allow herself to be distracted?

  She knew what an old pro like Buddy would say. “Buckle up, buttercup,” he’d growl in that grumpy voice of his. “Brooding is for amateurs.”

  “You know the Cure Cancer Charity Ball is this Saturday night, right?” her dad said at work Thursday afternoon.

  Faith had actually forgotten all about it.

  She must have displayed her panicked face, because her dad said, “Don’t even think about trying to back out. I’ve reserved a table for eight. Your mother and I, Dave and Megan, my mother and her date and you and your date.”

  “Gram’s got a date?”

  “Yes. She wouldn’t tell me anything about him. My mother can be stubborn at times.”

  “What about the Duchess of Grimness, Aunt Lorraine?”

  “She’s swimming with the fishes.”

  Faith was momentarily speechless. Sure, he was no fan of Aunt Lorraine. No one was. But was her father capable of doing something like that? Her thoughts took off like a rocket. Had the woman her dad had dinner with been a hired assassin? Was that why he’d been preoccupied?

  “You killed her?” she whispered.

  Her dad laughed. “No, but don’t think I haven’t been tempted after the stunt she pulled at last year’s charity ball. She’s definitely persona non grata there. I meant she’s on vacation down in the Caribbean, swimming with dolphins. I hope she doesn’t punch one of them.”

  “Yeah, I hope so too. Getting back to the charity ball. Megan doesn’t have a date?”

  “She’s got her dad. I thought you and Alan would round out the numbers.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Obviously. I reserved these tickets nearly a year ago. I couldn’t anticipate what would happen with Alan the Ass. So just bring someone else instead.”

  She was quiet. She could imagine what her father would say if she suggested Caine as her escort.

  Her father frowned. “Unless that’s a problem? You’re over Alan, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “No problem.” She’d find someone. And she had to get a dress. No worries. She had forty-eight hours.

  The once-passive Faith who let her family clean up her wedding mess had been replaced with the new, active Faith who took care of herself . . . with a little help from her doorman.

  “Yuri, I need a big favor.” Faith had cornered him as soon as she entered her condo building after work. “I need a date for this Saturday night for a charity ball.”

  “You don’t want to ask Caine?”

  “I’m attending with my father. He books a table every year. So, no, I can’t ask Caine.”

  “Understood.”

  “I thought maybe one of your actor friends might be willing to attend with me. Everything is paid for. They’d have to have a tuxedo because it’s black tie, but I’d pay for the rental.”

  “I think I know just the man for the job.” Yuri pulled out his iPhone and got online to Facebook before turning the screen to her. “His name is Dylan Donovan.”

  “Does he really look like that?”

  “Yep.”

  “I’m sorry, that was shallow of me.”

  “Of course he wouldn’t be oiled and shirtless. And he wouldn’t have his jeans undone the way he does in this photo. Do you want me to give him a call? He owes me a favor.”

  “Sure,” she croaked before clearing her throat. “I’d appreciate that.” She certainly appreciated the picture of Dylan Donovan. Her mouth was dry and her palms damp. This charity ball might turn out to be better than she’d expected, providing Dylan was available.

  “He’s agreed to the gig,” Yuri said. “What time do you want him to pick you up?”

  “Um, seven thirty. Does he need a tux?”

  “No, he has one.”

  “Tell him thanks.”

  “No problem. Dylan could use the exposure.”

  Exposure got her thinking naughty thoughts. Maybe she was getting over Caine if she could drool over another guy. That was a good thing, right? Who knew at this point? She couldn’t figure out her complicated relationship with Caine right now.

  “Do you need anything else?” Yuri asked. “Do you have your dress?”

  “No.”

  “Several young actress friends of mine rave about this new Oak Street boutique.” He showed her the store’s web-site with examples of their clothing.

  “Thank you so much, Yuri!” She hugged him. “I’ll head right over there now.”

  The boutique had the perfect dress for her: a classy black strapless full-length sheath with a sweetheart neckline. She felt so proud of herself for getting both a dress and a date in a matter of two hours that she splurged and got a beautiful jewelry set with a layered amethyst necklace and matching large teardrop dangle earrings.

  Friday flew by with new cases and work piling up. She wanted to treat herself to blueberry pancakes at the nearby Comfort Café Saturday morning but worried she wouldn’t fit into her dress that night if she did. So she nibbled on a granola bar instead. Later that afternoon, her manicurist suggested black cherry chutney nail polish for her mani/ pedi. Faith agreed and also splurged on a facial.

  But nothing she did erased the fact that she hadn’t talked to Caine since they’d made out in his car Monday night. Which was fine with her. She didn’t care.

  Okay that was lie, and she was trying not to lie to herself anymore. So she did care, but she’d get over it. Naturally she’d be concerned that Caine might be off on some rogue mission with his father’s case without consulting her. Of course, if he had consulted her, it wouldn’t be a rogue mission.

  She was still trying to
recover from her father telling her that Aunt Lorraine was swimming with the fishes. She hoped Caine hadn’t done anything drastic or illegal. Maybe she should call him to find out.

  Right. Like he’d tell her if he’d done something wrong. She removed her hand from her BlackBerry.

  Forget Caine and concentrate on getting through this event tonight.

  Faith had considered getting her hair trimmed but was afraid of messing up the haircut she loved so much and looking like a wreck, so she left it as it was. She spent a lot of time preparing for the charity ball. Her hair was styled, her underarms and legs were shaved, her body moisturized with Stella McCartney’s sexy and stylish lotion. Studying her reflection in the mirror, she decided that she’d never looked better in her life.

  She was ready to go when Yuri called to inform her that Dylan was downstairs waiting for her.

  “Showtime,” she whispered as she entered the elevator, momentarily flashing back to when Caine had said the same word before heading into the convenience store during their surveillance. No, tonight wasn’t about Caine. Tonight was about the first major public appearance of the “new” her. Many of the people there tonight were guests at her wedding over a month ago. But they’d never seen the mad, bad and blonde version of Faith. Which left her with only one thing to say, courtesy of Buddy: “Hold on to your hats, honeypies.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Faith stepped out of the elevator in the foyer downstairs and found Dylan Donovan waiting for her. He looked stunning in a tux and was driving a black Porsche.

  “Thank you so much for stepping in and agreeing to help,” she told him.

  “No problem.” He caught her glancing at the car. “It’s used. I borrowed it from a friend of mine for the night. My Jeep doesn’t go with my tux.”

  “Right.” Then she worried that she sounded snobbish. “Not that there’s anything wrong with a Jeep.”

  “Wouldn’t go with your dress either. You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you. So do you. I mean you look nice.” Shut up, Faith. Next you’ll be telling him some story about Bertha Palmer and one of her numerous charity balls. Thank heavens the ball wasn’t at the Palmer House this time but was instead taking place at McCormick Place. Otherwise who knew what trivia Faith might have come up with about the hotel’s original owners.