“I want you more,” Mandy admitted.
James tightened his arms. “How about we have dinner in bed and cut down on the lag time?”
Mandy giggled. “Deal.”
Yeah, James thought. There’s no way he could live without that laugh.
Seven
“So, how was the boat show?” Grady asked, his eyes twinkling as he lounged in an office chair lazily. He’d clearly had a relaxing weekend – a fact that was aggravating Finn and his frayed nerves.
It was Monday morning, and the three Hardy brothers were sitting in James’ office discussing the weekly schedule. Grady obviously hadn’t heard about Finn’s weekend.
“It was busy,” Finn replied shortly.
“The boat show was busy? People probably just wanted a reason to delude themselves that it would be warm again,” Grady said. “How were the boat models? That’s the only reason to go to one of those shows.”
Finn gripped the arms of his chair and pursed his lips. “Can we talk about something else?”
Grady glanced over at James. “What’s his problem?”
“He had a rough weekend.”
“Did the boat models give him a run for his money? That doesn’t sound like a rough weekend to me.”
“Will you stop talking about the models like they’re inanimate objects and try to remember they’re people?” Finn barked.
Grady’s eyes opened wider as he mouthed the word “wow.”
James shook his head in warning. “You probably don’t want to go there. Finn’s weekend wasn’t nearly as good as yours looks to have been.”
“Why are you so crabby? I thought weekends with Mandy were exercises in how many different sexual positions you could wedge into a forty-eight-hour period,” Grady said, stretching his legs out in front him. “I think I broke your record this weekend, by the way.”
That did it, Finn was at his limit. “Do you always have to be such an ass?”
Grady reared back in the face of Finn’s vehemence. “What is your deal?”
Finn rubbed the top of his head. “Nothing … I just … I’m going to go and get something to drink from the refrigerator upstairs.”
Once he was gone, Grady turned to James with mortification in his eyes. “What did I say? I know I was crude, but I’m usually a lot cruder than that.”
James blew out a sigh, launching into the tale of Finn’s weekend. When he was done, Grady sat still, his mouth agape.
“So, you can see why Finn might not be in a good mood,” James finished.
Grady found his voice. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“What were you going to do? Besides, I didn’t want to ruin your weekend.”
“Still,” Grady said. “I would have helped.”
“I know that.”
“I wouldn’t have gone on like that if I’d known the crap factory he was working at over the past few days,” Grady said.
“I know.”
“What about him? Does he know that?” Grady looked like he wanted to follow his brother.
“Leave him alone,” James ordered. “He’s all worked up. Pushing him isn’t the answer.”
“Why is he so worked up?”
James shrugged, forcing himself to focus on the laptop in front of him.
“You know something,” Grady pressed. “What do you know?”
“I know we’ve got a relatively easy week,” James said. “That’s probably a good thing, because Finn’s new case is going to keep us busy at some point.”
“Finn’s new case?” Now Grady was definitely confused. “You mean the boat model? That is what this is all about? He’s hot for the boat model?”
James cast a long look into the room behind Grady, making sure that Finn hadn’t rejoined his brothers. “The boat model’s name is Emma and she’s … well, she’s been through a lot.”
“Because she’s a child molester’s kid? How is that our problem?”
“I would be careful saying things like that in front of Finn,” James said. “He’s feeling a little protective about Emma – even though he won’t admit it, and she doesn’t want the attention, which is just adding to the mess.”
“If she doesn’t want our help, then why are we helping her?”
“I seem to remember a reporter who didn’t want our help either,” James reminded him. “Why did we help her?”
Grady made a face. “He barely knows this woman.”
“You barely knew Sophie, and that didn’t stop you from driving down to the county building in the middle of the night to make sure she was okay,” James said.
“That was different,” Grady protested.
“Why? Because it was you?”
“No … .” Grady ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair, considering. “Okay. Let’s do this. Let’s help the boat model.”
“Emma.”
“Let’s help Emma,” Grady said. “I just hope Finn knows what he’s getting in to. The daughter of Lance Pritchard is going to come with a lot of baggage.”
“So did a certain reporter who lost her parents at a young age and was fostered by a mob family,” James said.
Grady held up his hands to signify his surrender. “I’m all in.”
What neither brother was saying out loud was that they were worried that Finn was already all in, too.
FINN had no idea what possessed him to drive to Emma’s apartment. All he knew was that, when he found the laptop sitting on James’ dining room table, he’d typed her name into a Google search, and come up with an address.
Then, when he wandered downstairs, he could hear James and Grady murmuring in quiet voices to one another – and he had no interest in hearing what they were saying.
So, instead, he’d hopped into his Escalade and driven across town.
Now, here he was, parked in front of what could only be described as a hovel. Emma’s apartment building was a three-story building that was more dilapidated than some of the worst homes in downtown Detroit. Who could live here?
Finn climbed out of his truck, locking the doors with the fob in his hand, and gazing up at the redbrick façade that covered low-rent hell. Finn swallowed his misgivings as he walked in through the front door of the building. He internally cringed when he saw two young boys playing in front of the rundown elevator – which was really just a hole in the wall with yellow caution tape in front of it – clearly oblivious to the danger associated with their actions.
He thought about warning them away, asking them to take him to their mother so he could talk to her – but he had a feeling that would be a waste. The kids were obviously comfortable here. Nothing he said was going to change their way of life.
Instead, Finn jogged up the stairs, not stopping until he was on the third floor. He walked down the dreary hallway, wrinkling his nose as he took in the aged wallpaper – with big, gaping holes in some places – not stopping until he reached the last apartment on the floor: 10-C.
Finn raised his hand to knock, momentarily wondering if he should just turn tail and run rather than face the wrath of the woman on the other side of the door. His fist was pounding at the hollow wood before he had time to change his mind.
He could hear shuffling on the other side of the door, even sensing her presence as she peered through the peephole. He almost believed he heard a sigh before the sounds of four different locks disengaging met his ears. In this neighborhood, it was a wonder she didn’t need eight locks to feel safe.
When Emma opened the door, dressed only in a pair of shapeless jogging pants and a tank top, her face was blank and unreadable. Finn didn’t take that as a good sign. “Good morning,” he said brightly.
“Is there anything good about a morning?” Emma deadpanned.
Finn smiled. “I thought I would come and tell you that we checked up on the man who brought you the letter yesterday.” Finn didn’t expand further, waiting for her to invite him in.
Emma knew what he was hoping for – and she was clearly uncertain. Fin
ally, she opened the door further and ushered Finn inside.
Despite the rundown exterior (and interior, for that matter) of the building, Emma’s apartment was both clean and homey. The hardwood floors had been buffed and varnished, and the furniture – while clearly not new – was also not cheap and filthy.
“You didn’t have to come here to tell me that,” Emma said. “I never thought he was a freak. He obviously wasn’t the same guy with the acid from Saturday.”
“No,” Finn agreed, perching on the edge of her couch nervously. “That doesn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.”
“What was he going to do? Attack me with the letter? Try to kill me with paper cuts?”
Finn rolled his neck, cracking it. “Are you always so sarcastic?”
“Are you scared of a little sarcasm? Because, if so, you’re probably going to want to steer clear of me,” Emma said. “That’s how I survive. It’s not nice. It’s not pretty. Nothing in my life is nice or pretty, though, so it actually fits.”
She was like a wounded animal in a trap, Finn realized, always snapping out at those who were actively trying to help her. He tried not to take it personally. “The man’s name is Charles Evans. Do you know him?”
Emma flattened her lips as she thought. “That name does sound familiar. He was one of my father’s victims, wasn’t he?”
“I’m not a hundred-percent sure yet,” Finn admitted. “A woman I know is checking the file at the courthouse – she works in Judge MacIntosh’s court. I’m pretty sure. Charles Evans lived on the same street in Eastpointe you guys did twelve years ago.”
Emma sighed, the sound sad, her pain inescapable. “Well, that’s good enough for me.”
“Did you read the letter?” Finn asked.
“I did.”
“What did it say?”
“It said that he hopes I burn in Hell,” Emma said. “I’ve gotten a good twenty of them over the past few months. I think I’ll just add it to my collection. I’m thinking of making a collage out of them. I think some art would really brighten up the place.”
Finn swallowed his upper lip with his lower one, swiveling his head so he could look around the apartment. It was small – a studio with a tiny living area, an even tinier kitchen, and a bed and dresser elevated a step up to the far left of the living space. Finn’s eyes were drawn to a picture frame on the dresser. He couldn’t see the tiny details, but the photograph clearly showed a teenage Emma with a woman who – in her younger days – probably bore a striking resemblance to the pretty model.
“Is that your mom?”
“That’s her,” Emma replied, her tone blithe. “That was about six months before the shit hit the fan – and about seven months before she took off and never looked back.”
“If you’re so bitter, why do you have it up on your dresser?”
“Honestly? It’s the only photograph I have of her,” Emma said. “She burned the rest before she left. I keep it to remember a happier time – whatever that is.”
Finn turned his attention back to Emma. “You know, if Charles has been sending you a bunch of letters, we could file a police report and get a restraining order. I’ll go with you.”
“I didn’t say Charles sent all the letters,” Emma said. “Just that I keep getting letters. I have no idea if they’re from the same person.”
“Why don’t you let me look at them? We know a handwriting-analysis guy. He could take a look.”
“Why?” Emma asked. “The letters aren’t exactly threatening. The authors just want me to know I’m a horrible person and that I’m going to burn in Hell. They really needn’t bother. I already know that.”
Emma’s face was sad and drawn. Finn desperately wanted to offer her comfort – a hug – anything that would help relax her guard. He remained where he was sitting. “Do you want to at least try and get a restraining order?”
Emma shook her head. “I’m not interested in getting one of my father’s victims arrested, or questioned by the police, for that matter. It’s really not a big deal.”
“It seems like a big deal to me,” Finn said.
“That’s the difference between you and me,” Emma replied. “My days all suck, so it’s only out of the ordinary when something good happens. Looking like you, living like you obviously do, you want to fix everything that sucks. That’s not possible in my world. Sometimes things just suck – and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Eight
Another weekend, another derogatory modeling gig, Emma thought as she looked around the ice festival in downtown Mount Clemens dubiously.
She’d spent the better part of her week pretending the events at the boat show hadn’t gotten to her. After her bitter interlude with Finn Hardy at her apartment, he’d made a hasty retreat. She didn’t blame him. In fact, she was kind of relieved. If he continued to be nice to her, she’d have no choice but to return the sentiment – and that was something she didn’t want to think about.
This weekend’s gig was outdoors which – thankfully – meant she was fully clothed for a change. She was sporting items from Aspen Snow & Ski, while posing with a few other models, and trying to entice shoppers to buy snowmobiles and downhill skiing gear. As modeling jobs went, this was one of the better ones.
Temperatures had decided to cooperate for this first time this miserable winter – climbing to a downright balmy forty degrees under clear skies. With the downy, fur-lined jacket and snug ski pants separating her from the cold – Emma was actually comfortable, bordering on toasty.
That’s when a familiar face popped into view.
“So, you’re busy every weekend, huh?” Finn asked.
Emma couldn’t force down the small smile – or the little flutter that tickled her stomach – when she caught sight of him. “Are you following me?”
Finn’s face was all innocence and light. “This is a festival,” he said. “I’m here to do … festive things.”
Emma glanced around at the festival, which was filled with ornate ice sculptures on every corner, an inflatable winter slide for the kids, and more food booths than she could count. “What kind of festive things are you here to do?”
“Me? I’m just hanging around with my family,” Finn said. “It seemed like a reasonable way to burn a Saturday afternoon when absolutely nothing else is going on.”
“And why is your family here?”
“One of my brother’s girlfriends is covering the festival for the Daily Tribune,” Finn replied. “The other is working as a volunteer in the booth that’s handing out coats and hot chocolate to the homeless.”
“And that means you had to come?” Emma asked, still suspicious.
“That meant my brothers wanted to come,” Finn clarified. “Since I wasn’t doing anything, I didn’t see the harm in it. It’s actually a good cause. We ran out of coats already, so my brothers went to buy some more. I was going to go with them – but that’s when saw I you.”
“And you decided you’d rather spend time with me than help the poor?” Emma challenged, arching an eyebrow.
“I’m fairly certain I can do both.”
Emma rolled her eyes, but the grin she sent him was heartfelt. “Well, I guess I can’t be mean to a guy who is braving the cold to help the needy.”
“Are you sure? You seem to want to try,” Finn teased.
“I’m sure.”
Finn glanced around. “How long do you have to stay here?”
“I have another two hours,” Emma said. “I’m about due for a break, though.”
“Really? How about you let me buy you a hot chocolate?”
Emma wasn’t sure how to respond. Men flirted with her all the time – even at times when it was completely inappropriate. Finn didn’t seem like he was flirting, at least not overtly. It was more like he was trying to put her at ease and make her comfortable.
“Okay,” Emma said. “Hot chocolate actually sounds nice.”
Finn smiled, holding out his gloved hand. “Come on.�
�
Emma looked at his hand, unsure. Instead of taking it, she sent him a tight smile and instead fell into step beside him. “So where is this hot chocolate?”
If Finn was insulted by her refusal to take his hand, he didn’t show it. Instead, he merely pointed. “Over there. There’s even a fire you can warm up next to.”
“Surprisingly, I’m not too cold,” Emma said. “The jacket and the pants are really warm.”
“So Aspen clothes are a winner?”
“If you can afford to spend six hundred bucks on a coat and another three hundred on pants, absolutely.”
Finn cocked his head to the side. “That seems a little ridiculous since this festival is really a fundraiser for at-need families in the county, doesn’t it?”
“It always seems ridiculous,” Emma said. “I just go with the flow.”
“That seems to be your shtick,” Finn agreed.
“My shtick?”
“What? That’s a word. You used that word last weekend.”
Emma laughed. “You’re odd sometimes. You know that, right?”
“I can live with that.”
Emma followed Finn to a tarp-covered area. An open bonfire was roaring to the side, while various volunteers were cooking hot dogs and serving hot chocolate and coffee to the congregated visitors. Under the tarp, several women were supplying bags of toiletries and non-perishable food items to those who stopped by. One of the women, a small blonde, looked familiar to Emma.
She pulled up short when she realized who it was.
Finn stopped a few feet away, searching Emma’s face for a clue. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Emma said, shaking her head. “I just know that woman.”
Finn followed Emma’s gaze. “Mandy?”
“The clerk for Judge MacIntosh? Is that her name.”
“Yeah.”
“You know her?”
“We grew up together,” Finn said. “She was best friends with my sister, Ally.”
“Oh. So you don’t know her from the courthouse?”
“Not exactly.”
Emma stiffened, suspicion clawing at the back of her brain. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Mandy is also my brother’s girlfriend,” Finn said. “The brother you met the other day. I’m not keeping anything from you.”
Deadly Illusions (Hardy Brothers Security Book 3) Page 5
