She flipped the file open. “I’m still waiting on the lab report for the key. They had to bump us for another murder case. As soon as I hear from them, I’ll let you know.” She handed Amanda a few sheets of paper, then gave David what appeared to be copies of the same stack. “For now, let’s talk about Simeon Davis. This is everything I found. He’s clean as a whistle. Barely a parking ticket. Thirty-eight years old. He lives on the north side, makes sixty grand a year selling insurance, has a couple of teenage kids and a wife who works as a cleaning lady.”
An insurance salesman. Amanda propped her chin in her hand and thought back over the years and the clients who’d come and gone. Nothing. If she’d worked with him, she didn’t remember it.
David cocked his head. “What insurance company?”
“A local agency. TRU Associates. They work with all the big companies.”
Both of them turned to Amanda, the question unspoken but delivered. “They don’t handle my insurance. And I’ve never heard of them.”
“Okay. There’s a photo of him in the stack. Page three. Take a look.”
Amanda shuffled through the pages until she found the grainy color photocopy of what looked like a driver’s license photo. Simeon Davis was a white man with sandy-blond hair, a mustache and full cheeks that indicated he carried more extra weight than was probably healthy. He also had a prominent mole above his left eyebrow.
As a person who studied details, she would have remembered that mole. She thought back over her clients, vendors she worked with, friends of friends, but...nothing. No recall. The thick mustache could be throwing off her judgment. She held her finger across the mustache, trying to picture him without it.
“Anything?” David asked.
“No. If I’ve met this man, I don’t remember it. And I have a fairly good memory. It’s crazy.” She flicked the photo. “I don’t even know him and suddenly he’s accusing me of fraud? I’ve never even been in a check-cashing place. I’m an artist. Everything I make goes into legitimate investments. I keep some spending money, but otherwise, I save it all.”
Humiliation over having to talk about her finances in front of Jenna, a near stranger, burned in her throat. David was bad enough, but she’d gotten beyond that this week. Pretty much her life was an open book to this man and after last night and the rather inventive things they’d done, she didn’t anticipate that changing. Sexually, the man had tapped into desires she’d never explored and that was...well...exciting.
But risky.
Dangerous.
Her face grew hot and she propped her elbows on the table, resting her forehead against her palms.
A large hand—David’s—landed on her shoulder. She glanced up at him and he squatted next to her. “I promise you, we’ll figure it out. Jenna will work on it until we do.”
“And who’s paying for that?”
David shot up and spun toward the doorway, where a woman, a younger, mini version of Mrs. Hennings, stood. With the resemblance to David’s mother, this had to be Penny. A petite little thing—something Amanda hadn’t expected considering David’s size—she wore a lightweight camel coat over a winter white suit.
The second she stepped into the kitchen, the atmosphere turned frigid. Tension flew off David like erupting lava.
Penny avoided him and beelined for Amanda. “Hi, I’m Penny. You must be Amanda.”
“Yes.” Amanda reached to shake hands. “I’m sorry we’ve tied up your investigator.”
She slid her gaze to David, who’d stepped back to his spot at the counter, his arms crossed, jaw locked. This wouldn’t be fun.
“It’s not your fault.” Penny faced David. “We don’t mind helping, but we have clients. Paying clients. At the end of the month, we need to account for Jenna’s time.”
Jenna smacked the file closed. “That’s my cue. I’ll leave you guys to discuss this. Because, honestly, I don’t want to be in the middle of it. Just someone call me and tell me what I’m supposed to do.”
“Thank you, Jenna,” David said.
Jenna left and David glared at his sister. “That entrance was necessary?”
“I didn’t make an entrance. I asked a question.”
David scoffed. “Right.”
“Oh, just stop it. We run a law firm. Now that you’re about to open your own practice, you should understand we have certain accounting policies to adhere to. And you commandeering our investigator is a problem.”
Commandeering? That might have been extreme. Amanda stayed seated, her gaze darting between the two of them. From what David had said, his relationship with Penny was rocky at best. And at the moment, Penny had a tone that was sure to set her brother off. Whatever his initial reaction was, he’d held it back. Amanda could see it in the way he locked his jaw and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. Good for him.
“I didn’t commandeer her.”
But Penny wasn’t backing down. She threw her shoulders back, and for a small woman she had a ferocity about her. No wonder she was a litigator.
This could turn into a bloodbath. And given how hard David had been trying to avoid fighting with his sister, Amanda didn’t want her situation to cause a family war. “Please don’t argue.”
“In a way,” Penny said, “you did. I signed off on Jenna locating the car and working with the lab. Those were isolated things.”
David waved his hands at her. “Don’t start. You’ll only annoy me and we know how that ends up.”
“Quit waving your hands at me. I came over here to talk to you about this and now you’re giving me attitude. Why doesn’t that shock me?”
And, yes, Amanda could see why David got upset with Penny. That biting sarcasm could be grating.
David laughed. “And it begins...”
“I didn’t sign off on her spending all of yesterday morning with you hunting down some car. I came to calmly address that and I find her here, when she’s supposed to be working a case for me, and I hear you telling her to do more.” She turned to Amanda. “Please don’t misunderstand. We have no problem helping you. Not one bit. My mother started this and we feel responsible. But we need to manage Jenna’s time correctly.”
Managing their employee’s time was a reasonable request, and had the message been delivered differently, David would probably agree. He could be bossy, but he listened when people had concerns. But his sister’s tone had probably forced him to check out the minute she got snarky.
The best Amanda could do right now was try to defuse the situation. For no other reason than that David had confided in her about wanting to make things right with Penny. For him, she’d play mediator. “I understand. And I agree with you. We shouldn’t take over your employee. I’ve been preoccupied and didn’t think it through.”
About to suggest that they come up with a time frame when they would need Jenna, she shifted to David and found his deep blue eyes pinned to her. Not in a good way, either. Venom. Her arms tingled and she sat up a little.
“And what?” he said. “It’s my fault now?”
* * *
WASN’T THIS DANDY? Amanda taking Penny’s side. Over the most idiotic thing. And what really chapped him was that he shouldn’t lose it over this, shouldn’t let his hang-ups over always being the odd man out get to him. He’d promised himself he’d work on getting along with Penny, to not let her bait him into arguments, because she knew, as well as he did, she had a knack for firing his temper.
He’d accepted the rules of the game years ago, accepted the mind-messing toll it took, accepted that he and Penny would always compete. Sometimes viciously. Those things he got. But what he didn’t get was how, after he’d been idiot enough to confide in Amanda about his relationship with Penny, not to mention his insecurities over being the outsider of his family, she could side with his sister.
Against him.
He’d trusted her. And what did he get out of it? A night of great sex and her discounting everything he’d done for her in the past few days.
Damn, this ripped him.
“Whoa,” she said, her eyes catching fire. “I didn’t say it was your fault.”
“Well, honey, it sure sounded like it.”
“Oh, come on, David.”
“Come on what? I’ve been running my tail off trying to help you, and my sister walks in and all of a sudden you two are allies.”
Drama Queen Penny threw her hands up and huffed. “Every time. Every damned time I try to have a conversation with you and think we can get along, you throw a hissy fit.”
“Are you insane?” Amanda said, talking over Penny and—damn—the wheels were coming off this truck fast. “I’m not taking anyone’s side. But, God help me, I can see why you two have issues.”
Ignoring Amanda, he went back to Penny. “You’re the one who walks around here smarting off at everyone. Why Dad and Zac let you get away with it, I have no idea. You’re not twelve anymore. Grow the hell up.”
The corner of her mouth lifted, but it wasn’t a smile. Far from it. What he had here was more of a resigned sadness with some smug thrown in.
“There’s the brother I know. I wondered how long it would take.”
“Oh, David,” Amanda said. “You don’t mean that.”
No. He didn’t. But, dang it, they’d gotten him riled up, never hard with Penny, and he’d lost his temper.
“Sure he does,” Penny said. “Because despite all this garbage he’s been feeding me about wanting to improve our relationship, my brother simply doesn’t like me. He may love me, but he doesn’t like or respect me.”
He glanced behind him at the knife rack next to the stove, contemplated the handle on the carving knife, pictured it protruding from his chest. After he’d put it there. That would break his mother’s heart. Bad plan. He turned back to his sister. “Now I don’t like you? Do me a favor, don’t tell me what I don’t like.”
“Whatever, David. But if you want to use the firm’s investigators, you need to ask. That’s all I came here to tell you.”
Penny marched out and for a few seconds he considered chasing after her. Experience had taught him that wouldn’t go well. For either of them. When they fought, it took a couple of hours for reason to grab hold again. So he’d wait. Maybe talk to her later.
“Well,” Amanda said, “I see what you meant about you two.”
He squeezed his eyes closed and ran the palms of his hands over his head because his rising blood pressure gave him a damned headache. “Yeah. That was classic Penny and David. A couple of dopes. But I needed you on my side.”
“I am on your side.”
Could have fooled him. “By agreeing with her?”
“I didn’t agree with her. All I said—”
“Hold up. I’ve told you what life is like in this family. I’m the rebel. I don’t think it’s a lot to ask of you to support me.”
She craned her neck forward, then let her head drop half an inch. Incredulous. That was what she was. Clearly, he was speaking another language, because she didn’t get it.
“David, I’m assuming you’re keyed up right now because I cannot believe you’re blaming me for this. All I said was I understood what she was saying.”
“Yeah, but you don’t know her. She’ll use that as ammunition. And I’m sick of that. I’m sick of everything I say turning into a fight. So, if you and I are gonna work, you need to be Team David.”
“And you don’t think that’s ridiculous?”
Hell no. Even if it was, that was reality. “It’s how things work around here. In a house full of attorneys, either you win or you lose. I need to be able to count on you. If this is gonna work, you’ve gotta have my back. Whether I’m wrong or right we can talk about later, but when it comes to my sister, you’re on my side.”
She sat back, her shoulders slumping, her body nearly folding over, and whatever she intended to say, it wouldn’t be good for him.
“Wow. If that’s the way you operate, you people are brutal. Seriously, brutal. Whether you believe it or not, I am on your side. But there will be times when I don’t agree with you. It doesn’t mean I’m not supportive.” She slid out of her chair. “That’s a lesson both you and your sister need to learn. It’s not about sides. It’s about figuring out how to work together.”
She pushed the chair in, then kept her grip on the top of it for a few seconds, and the raging pain at the base of his neck shot straight into his head. The next few seconds would be bad. He knew it.
She let go of the chair and faced him, her eyes not nearly as fiery as before. What he saw now was worse. This droopy sadness might kill him. Where’s that carving knife?
“You can call me when you learn that lesson because I can’t have this. I’ve said all along I don’t want the drama. Emotionally, it’ll destroy me. And I know what that looks like. I won’t risk it. Now I have a painting to deliver.”
What the hell was she doing? They’d had a fight. After one argument she wanted to turn tail? Nuh-uh. Not happening. “That’s it? End of discussion?”
By the time she got to the hallway, he was on her. “Amanda, hang on.”
“No, David. One thing I won’t do is hang on. You’ve made it clear what you need. I can choose not to give you what you need.”
“I don’t want you going alone.”
“I don’t really care what you want. I’ll be back to pick up my things later. So, yes, I believe this is the end of it.”
* * *
AMANDA CLIMBED INTO her car, her body going through the motions of starting the engine, shifting the car into gear, pressing the gas pedal and maneuvering down the winding driveway. If she concentrated on the task, focused on each individual element, she wouldn’t come apart.
All along she’d been right. Living in neutral might not have been exciting, but it wasn’t this, either. This agonizing stab of heartbreak. But this was what happened when people opened up, trusted others and allowed them in. Fell in love. Which, darn it, sounded stupid after only a few days, but if she could force herself to believe she had fallen in love, she wouldn’t feel so crummy right now. She’d have an explanation other than her own stupidity.
She banged the steering wheel—boom, boom, boom. Ow. That last one sent a shock of pain tearing right up her arm.
Her throat locked up, just a vicious clog of air that wouldn’t let loose, and her eyes filled with tears. Darn it. She hated crying. But why not? Might as well cry it out.
The road ahead blurred. She swiped at her tears and eased the car to the side of the road, the tires crunching over gravel that lined the shoulder. From the floorboard in the backseat, the box with her painting—her only remaining completed work—shifted and she spun to check it.
It’s fine. Everything would be fine. She’d give herself a couple of minutes to cry it out. To wail like an infant because she was alone and no one would know and she wouldn’t have to be humiliated.
Maybe, for once, a good cry would do her good.
Except her phone rang. Of course. Lexi. Probably checking on her. She’d been giving Lexi daily updates on the goings-on, and besides David, Lexi was the only other person who knew the whole of it. With Lexi, there’d be no bringing her up to speed. This call she would most definitely answer. “Hi. Where are you?”
“My office. Why?”
“Can I come over? I need a friend.”
“My goodness, Amanda, in all the time I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that.”
“That’s because I never have.”
* * *
DAVID STOOD IN his mother’s kitchen, hands on hips as he stared out the back window. How long should h
e wait to call Amanda? If she were anything like him and Penny—and wasn’t getting involved with a woman like his sister a thought that gave him stomach cramps?—she needed a cooling-off period. Chances were, as ornery as she’d looked when she’d walked out, she probably wouldn’t answer his call.
What he should have done was gone after her. Even if she had said she didn’t want him to. After the past few days, it wasn’t safe for her to be out alone.
He kicked his foot out, just missing the doorframe because his mother would crucify him if he did any damage. There wasn’t one damn thing to punch or pummel or pulverize, and all that frustration sizzled inside him like acid on skin.
“Oh, my,” his mother said, entering the kitchen. “What now?”
Terrific. Add her to the pile. What else could be thrown at him today?
“Women,” he said. “That’s what. If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never figure your gender out.”
Mom laughed. Laughed. Seriously?
“Your gender? David, you make us sound like we live to torment you.”
Yeah, well. He wouldn’t be the one to say it.
He turned from the window. “Mom, you have to be straight with me and tell me I’m adopted. It would explain a lot. Because I sure as hell do not have the people skills I need to survive this family.”
She cocked her head, narrowed her gaze in that all-knowing-mother way. “You’re the spitting image of your father. Chances are, you’re not adopted. Furthermore, I think your people skills are fine. But whatever is bothering you, sit down and tell your mother about it. I’ll heat you up a brownie. That always helped when you were little.”
Brownies. In the morning. Excellent.
From the cabinet next to the fridge, she pulled out a plastic container and a paper plate. “I made them yesterday and hid them. Between you and your father, they wouldn’t have lasted an hour.”
She popped the brownie into the microwave. “I suppose you want a glass of milk?”
Yep. His mother knew him. “I’ll get it,” he said.
The Rebel Page 15
