Close to the Edge

by Kylie Brant

  With the memory came a wave of déjà vu that transported him back to the time not so long ago when he’d been spending more than his share of time in dark alleys just like the one where he’d found Remy. Perhaps the biggest difference between the two of them was that Remy still expected more. Lucky never had.

  No one was more surprised than he at the turn of events that had him working in an upscale neighborhood for a woman he would have normally never even spoken to.

  Which only went to show that Lady Fate, she was a fickle woman indeed.

  It was one of life’s little ironies that the more Jacey dreaded a particular event, the faster it seemed to approach. After Peter’s visit, Lucky had been dispatched to Rhode Island to check on Jeffrey Wharton’s college career. He’d been gone three days and she refused to admit, even to herself, that she missed him. There was something to be said for having someone around to bounce ideas off of. Lucky was great for that. Of course, he was often more blunt than necessary with his opinions about her thoughts, but at least he provided a sounding board.

  She’d divided her time finishing the Kenning case and combing the databases for information on Rupert Garvey’s children. It had only taken the better part of an afternoon to discover the locales where Cheryl Kenning could be found, along with the usual times. Once she’d assured herself of the information, she passed it on to the Kenning grandparents. What they did with it from that point was no concern of Jacey’s. If Lucky had been around, she was certain he would have had an opinion on that, as well.

  She’d left the office that Saturday afternoon with a sense of accomplishment. One case had been neatly tied up and she’d gotten a good start on the newest one. But by early evening that feeling of well-being had long since vanished. Staring blindly at the contents of her closet, Jacey wished mightily that she’d saved just a little of her brainpower that week for figuring out a way to avoid the engagement party altogether.

  Heaving a sigh, she tugged a dress from its hanger and stepped into it. The reason she’d spent as little time as possible thinking about this moment was precisely because she knew there was no way out of it. Not for her. The evening promised to be embarrassing and awkward, but it wasn’t likely to kill her. She’d show up, mingle long enough to speak to all her acquaintances, join in a toast to the happy couple, then leave with concealed haste while the tongues wagged behind her.

  She spent several minutes pulling her hair up into an intricate knot atop her head. Then, surveying herself critically in the mirror, she freed two tendrils to frame her face. Checking the tiny dome clock on her dresser, she donned earrings, a ring and necklace, sprayed herself with perfume, and, straightening her shoulders, checked her appearance one last time. Her expression was as excited as if she was on her way to the gallows. And why had she chosen this dress? The bright blue fabric clung to her curves in a way that usually made her feel confident and sexy, but now seemed a little too daring. Tugging the neckline to a more discreet level, she sneaked another look at the clock, trying to gauge whether she had enough time to change. The doorbell rang.

  The sound had her freezing. Surely, surely it couldn’t be her mother. But even while she repeated the litany to herself as she went to the door, she knew she was wrong. After a brief conversation earlier this week, Jacey had been dodging her calls. Charlotte had probably not trusted her to show up on her own.

  Hand on the doorknob, she hesitated. She wouldn’t put it past her mother to show up with one of the men from the list in tow, presenting her daughter with a fait accompli. Narrowing her gaze suspiciously, she withdrew her hand and opted to use the peephole instead. What she saw there had her opening the door hastily.

  “Lucky! You’re back.”

  With one shoulder leaning against the doorjamb, he shot her a lazy smile. “Oui. I was tempted to stay longer and milk the expense account for a lengthy bout of relaxation, but…I was in Rhode Island. Nothing relaxin’ about that.” Pushing away, he straightened and brushed by her to enter, sweeping her figure with his gaze as he did so. “You’re looking…remarkable.”

  So are you. The words leaped through her mind, almost tumbled from her lips before she caught herself. She’d never seen him so dressed up, and she couldn’t help wondering what the occasion was this time. He was wearing black dress slacks, a collarless black shirt and a matching jacket without lapels. With his dark hair carelessly brushed back, he looked like a fallen dark angel.

  “You must have gone shopping on your trip.” She arched a brow at him. “I hope not on the company’s dime.”

  “Non. I do have something in my closet besides T-shirts and jeans. I just don’t choose to wear them often.” He threw her a wicked glance over his shoulder as he walked into the living room. “Another thing you’ll owe me. The debt is mountin’, and the evenin’ hasn’t even begun yet.”

  She stared at him, uncomprehending. Then a flicker of understanding filtered through. “The…evening?”

  He turned to face her, hands slipped casually into his pants pockets. “Brummond’s engagement party. You didn’t say what time it began, so I just took a guess and headed over. Figured if I was early we could always catch up on the case.”

  Thoughts in a whirl, she blinked at him. “Um, it starts at seven. But I distinctly remember telling you I was goin’ alone.”

  “And I distinctly remember tellin’ you that I’d take you.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “What’s the matter, cher? Did you give in and call one of the guys on your mother’s list, after all?”

  Temper snapped up her spine. “Certainly not!”

  “Good. That’s good. So what’s the problem? You’ll make an appearance with a man, stop the worst of the rumors. People might still talk, but they won’t be feelin’ sorry for you.” His gaze was sober, direct. “Pity can have far sharper edges than malice, n’est ce pas?”

  She stared at him, unable to voice her agreement. But it was there, nonetheless. Despite their differences, despite their backgrounds, he could stun her at times with his insight. It was a curiosity of fate that nowhere else, not the private all-girl academy she’d attended, not the Ivy League college, had she ever met anyone who could so effortlessly pluck her thoughts from her mind and utter them with with such certain logic.

  She assessed him with new eyes. He’d taken far more care with his appearance than she’d ever noted before. He was also clean-shaven, and she was fairly certain he never shaved on the weekends. And in the end, despite the warning alarm shrilling inside her, it was that simple consideration that decided her.

  “Sure you’re up for this?” she asked dubiously. “People are going to be even more interested in you than they are in me.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “How tough can it be? Bunch of rich people drinkin’ and talkin’ too much, thinkin’ too little. So.” He looked her over critically. “Are you ready? It’s comin’ on seven now.”

  Before she could think better of it, she nodded, headed for the coat closet. “I’ll get my coat.”

  “Why wear a dress like that, only to cover it with a coat?” Lucky caught her by the arm, turned her gently toward the door. “This evenin’ is about appearances. Let’s do somethin’ about yours.” Jacey felt his hands in her hair, and before she could guess his intentions, he’d released the hairstyle she’d taken pains with, dropping the pins on the floor. Then he threaded his fingers through her hair, shook the strands free.

  Catching a look at herself in the hallway mirror, Jacey hissed in an annoyed breath. Her hair was as mussed as if she’d just crawled out of bed. “Dammit!” She slapped his hands away. “Now I’ll just be later trying to fix it.”

  “You don’t need to fix it. It’s fine.” He reached out, hooked a finger in the neckline of her dress, and tugged it a couple inches lower. Then he grinned at the strangled sound she made. “Now you look fine, too. Re-e-al fine.”

  “Boucher, you are really living dangerously.” Ineffectually trying to smooth her hair and straighten her dress, she felt herself b
eing nudged, ever so discreetly, toward the door.

  “Mais, oui. I am a dangerous man, Jacey. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

  The front door snicked closed behind them, the quiet sound punctuating his words. A sliver of unease skated over her skin. Sometimes, at the oddest moments, she was vividly reminded of the first time she’d met Lucky. The instant wariness his appearance in her office had elicited, and yes, the prickle of fear. His affable charm could make her forget for long periods of time about both. But it paid to remember. Lucky Boucher was a dangerous man, in more ways than one. That knowledge stemmed from an instinctive, rather than a logical level.

  She’d done a background check on him before hiring him, but it had turned up amazingly little. For a twenty-five-year-old resident of the state, there had been surprisingly little information to be gathered about him. Certainly nothing she’d uncovered had mentioned the origins of that hint of menace that could appear and then vanish so swiftly, a person was inclined to think she’d imagined it.

  And it was increasingly difficult to recall it under the steady stream of patter he was treating her to right now. “You’re fortunate to be ridin’ in style tonight. My car was in the shop this week. I need a raise to pay the mechanic’s ransom demands.”

  “Very smooth, the way you slipped that in,” she noted as he opened the door for her. “But the answer is no. Why don’t you break down and get yourself something newer? It would save you a fortune in repair costs.”

  The outrage on his face was comical. “Trade her in? Trade her? Would a father exchange his only child? Would you part with one of your precious antiques because it is old?”

  She wanted, badly, to smile. Firming her lips, she got in the car. He shut the door after her, caressing the hood protectively as he rounded the vehicle. “What is this strange fixation some men have for their cars?” she asked, when he’d gotten inside.

  “It’s not a fixation,” he corrected her, checking traffic before pulling out into the street. “It’s respect. Treat a vehicle with respect and it treats you well right back.”

  “Is that what it was treating you with when it stalled in the middle of the four-lane earlier this week?” she asked, tongue firmly in cheek.

  He made a sound like a growl. “Cars, like women, can be temperamental, no matter how excellent the care they receive.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m not touching that one. Do you know where we’re going?” She recited the address for him.

  “I know the area.” He turned the corner. “Houses there are similar to your mother’s, right? Too much grass and brick and not enough personality.”

  “That’s an accurate description, I guess.” Nerves began jittering in her veins. To calm them, she asked, “What did you find out about Jeffrey Wharton?”

  “Well, it was an interestin’ few days. Seems ol’ Jeffrey is a couillion, an idiot who has bounced through six colleges in five years. From his grades it’s difficult to understand how he ever got accepted to that many in the first place. His family must have paid through the nose each time to grease the way.”

  “Well, his mother certainly has the money. His father, too, although they’ve been divorced for years now. He’s a high-powered trial lawyer in Boston.”

  Lucky nodded. “He majored in international affairs. His grades at Brown weren’t that bad. Maybe he finally decided to buckle down. It was his other activities that had university authorities lookin’ at him.”

  “Such as?”

  Lucky accelerated, easily passing a slower moving van and slipping into the lane ahead of it. “Our guy had himself a pretty lucrative sideline. He was a major drug dealer on campus. Makes me wonder who his connection was, to get that big, that fast. It’s not as though he grew up in Providence.”

  Jacey reflected on that. “How good is your source?”

  “The best.” Lucky grinned. “Among others, I heard this from Wharton’s bitter ex-girlfriend. And I talked to enough others to figure she was tellin’ the truth, at least about the drugs. We’ll have to take her word on his, ah, sexual appetites.”

  “I haven’t picked up any hints of his involvement in drugs now that he’s returned home, but I’ve only just gotten started. He’s working at a low-level position in his grandfather’s company. From the sounds of it, he’s a glorified mail sorter.”

  “Livin’ within his means?”

  “It’s hard to tell. He’s staying with Lianna now, driving and wrecking her vehicles. If he’s throwing money around he’s doing it on things other than rent and cars. It should be easy enough to trace, though. He doesn’t get his hands on his trust fund for another six months.”

  “But he’s managed finally to get a degree that could loosely tie in with Garvey Shipping. And he’s got his foot in the door there, so I’d say either he or his mother are buckin’ for grandad’s attention on the youngest descendant.”

  “Given his activities in college he’d be a pretty bad bet to be given any say in running the company.” There was no way to tell who his drug connections had been, but the fact that he had any sounded a death knell for his future in the shipping business. Even if he was clean now, he’d be too vulnerable to powerful dealers wanting to use the company to transport their trade.

  “Think I should continue checking the other campuses he spent time enrolled at?” The car’s powerful engine roared as Lucky blithely ignored the speed limit posted on the freeway.

  “Not yet. I’m pretty sure this information would automatically erase him from Walter Garvey’s consideration.” Which left them with three other grandchildren to focus on. “The oldest of Rupert’s children is Stephen, who’s thirty-six, married, with three small children. He’s a stockbroker. The FTC investigated him two years ago regarding an insider trading allegation, but nothing ever stuck.”

  Lucky frowned. “If Garvey is lookin’ for someone with the expertise to run his company, a stockbroker isn’t going to have much.”

  “I’m sure he already knows what his grandchildren’s work experience is. I think he’s looking for someone with the brains and a relatively stain-free past who would be willing to learn the business from the bottom up.”

  He gave a shrug. “Then Stephen makes the short list, at least for now. An investigation by the Federal Trade Commission isn’t proof of wrongdoin’.”

  Jacey continued. “Amanda is next. At thirty-three she owns a headhunter firm, supplying potential employees to hospitals across the South. Her company has tripled its size in the last five years alone, so she’s obviously got a mind for business.”

  When she stopped, he prompted, “But?”

  She gave an uncomfortable shrug. “I don’t know if this should count against her, but she’s been married four times and is engaged again. Fortunately, there are no kids.”

  “Ah.” Lucky’s tone was mocking. “Obviously a romantic.”

  “Apparently you can be a shrewd businesswoman and still have unfortunate taste in men. At least two of her former husbands were charged with domestic violence.”

  “So she bears some more lookin’ into. Who’s the last of them?”

  “The other half brother is Mark. He’s thirty, a corporate lawyer, and recently divorced. His ex-wife is a friend of mine. They just had a baby a couple years ago. He’s worked for Garvey Enterprises since he passed the bar.”

  “You’d think Walter Garvey would already know all he needs to about him, then.”

  “Maybe.” It depended, she supposed, on just how often their paths crossed. From what the older man had said, it hadn’t seemed as though he knew any of his descendants well. On the other hand, he might already be considering Mark and had hired Jacey to make sure he hadn’t overlooked anything. “We’ll continue to check on Wharton’s current activities, but it’s doubtful J. Walter would approve of him, given his past. We can concentrate most of our efforts on Rupert’s three children.”

  “Will any of the Garvey clan be there tonight?”

  She tried to think.
“It’s hard to say. Lianna is an acquaintance of my mother’s. They belong to the same church, serve on the board together. It’s possible. Peter’s mother knows her well, too. I’ve only met Rupert once or twice, but I haven’t seen him around much in recent years.” Of course, she’d been avoiding the social engagements her mother loved as much as possible lately. “Mark is a friend of Peter’s. He was probably invited.”

  She stopped then, recognizing the neighborhood they were entering. The large estates were set well back from the road, some almost hidden by trees. The Brummond mansion was completely unobscured, however, save for the wrought-iron fence that ran around its perimeter. Her throat dried as Lucky slowed at the gate.

  The guard stooped to peer in the window that Lucky lowered. “Invitation please.”

  It occurred to Jacey for the first time that not only had she forgotten the invitation, but she hadn’t even thought to bring her purse. Lucky’s arrival had completely shaken her usually organized pattern.

  Unless one considered the failure to bring the invitation thus possibly being barred admittance as some sort of Freudian slip.

  She leaned forward to look past the window. “I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten it. Please check your guest list for Jacinda Wheeler.”

  “Miss Wheeler?” The man peered more closely, then smiled. “Good evening, ma’am. Nice to see you again. Hope you enjoy yourself tonight.”

  Her thank-you sounded weak, even to her own ears. Lucky drove the car down the wide circular drive and the closer he got to the house, the tighter the knots drew in her stomach. If it had been possible to fast forward through the next few hours, she would have.