by DJ Jamison
He frowned, glancing up. “The roof may need major repair work, too. Added to all these other plans you’re making, you’ll end up upside down.”
He was absolutely right. If I made all the improvements I was suggesting right now, it would become expensive fast. What I couldn’t tell him was that I needed the process to take a while, so I had a place to house Lee until the trial date. I couldn’t afford to put the house on the market and have it sell too quickly or even to hold an auction several weeks from now.
Trials got rescheduled, so while I hoped Lee would be gone, I couldn’t be sure.
I could cancel the listing, of course. Tell Camden I wanted a different real estate agent or that I’d decided to keep the home. When I originally called him to list, I was going to do the bare minimum to prepare the house and sell for whatever I could get. I didn’t know I’d be shacking up with Lee for the short term. I couldn’t bring myself to give up my one excuse to see Camden regularly, though.
“I can do a lot of work myself,” I said. “But if I have to cut a few corners, I suppose I can. Can you work up a list of must-do and maybe-do for me? Obviously, the roof has to be done. I suppose some of the other fixes are optional.”
Camden forced a smile. “Sure. I’ll get it to you this week. If it’s alright with you, I’ll have a contractor do some estimates on the larger projects so we know what to expect.”
Poor guy. For a young, relatively inexperienced agent, he was offering good advice. He cut a fine figure in his suit, too, even a cheap department store variety. His blue tie brought out the color in his eyes.
We headed back to the first floor. Even the stairs needed work. Covered in worn, dirty carpet, the swirling staircase had lost its original grandeur. New carpet — or better yet, losing the carpet and refinishing the stairs beneath — would do wonders for its appearance.
When we reached the door, he turned to me.
“Please consider an auction for the contents of the home at least,” he said. “Going through a household’s belongings can be overwhelming, but there are estate agents who can help. If you’re not sentimental, they can do most of the sorting for you.”
I nodded. “I’ll think about it. I’ve already made a start in the office. I need to go through at least some of it myself. My mother might want some things.”
“Of course. Can I ask you a question?”
Uh-oh. No telling what direction this would take and what lies I’d have to tell. I nodded. “Sure.”
“What are your plans for after the house sells?”
“Um … why do you ask?”
“Well, if you’re going to improve this house and then change your mind and live here instead of selling it …” He trailed off, looking uncomfortable.
“What? You don’t want to waste months of your life on me?” I teased. “Surely being in my presence is worth the aggravation, even without a paycheck.”
I couldn’t keep the flirting in check with this guy, but it appeared to go right over his head.
“I don’t mean to sound like a greedy jerk.”
I put a hand on his arm. “Camden, I get it. You’re trying to make a living. I’m going to sell this house no matter what happens. If I decided to stay in Fields, I’d want something smaller. This is way too much space. But honestly, I have a life in, um—”
“California,” he offered.
Shit. Shitshitshit. I forgot I told Camden I was based in LA before we ever met. Before Lee’s case fell in my lap. Our cover story called for a move from Seattle, not LA. Last thing I needed was news that two LA transplants lived here.
I fumbled for a plausible lie. “I have business there, but I live in Washington,” I said.
Camden’s brow wrinkled. “Oh, I didn’t realize. The mailing address on that paperwork said California, and you’re so tan.”
I laughed uneasily. “Right, I used my business address. And I do spend a fair amount of time out there.”
He nodded, looking a bit nonplussed but not pushing the issue. Jesus God, I hoped I hadn’t told him anything else about my life in those brief phone calls to arrange business. Surely not. I didn’t think Camden was much of a threat, but if he told Miguel, and Miguel told his boyfriend, and he told someone else … well, that’s how witnesses got found. And when witnesses got found, witnesses got dead.
“What is your business again?”
Fucking-A. At least I’d worked this part out in my planning sessions with Lee. I didn’t want to get too far from my area of expertise and get tripped up.
“Home security,” I said. “Mostly for high-end properties, which is why I do so much work in California.”
“Oh, I see.”
“But if you wanted me to come by your apartment when you move back in, I could give you some suggestions to make it more secure.”
“Oh.” He looked disconcerted. “I’m not sure I’m going back there. But thank you.”
“Where will you go?”
He smiled, but it was strained. “Some other rental, I suppose. A better place, I hope. Well, I’ve taken up too much of your time as it is. I’ll get out of your hair. I’ll bring you a list of recommended improvements vs. work that might be best to leave to the buyer. And I’ll schedule that contractor.”
“Sounds good.” I shook his hand and opened the front door, but I couldn’t resist teasing him one last time. “You did great today. Very professional. I think the towel look is underrated, but what do I know?”
He grinned and rolled his eyes. “Someday, you’ll let me live that down.”
“I doubt it.”
Chapter 8
Camden
I was just wrapping up another fruitless showing at a house on Elm Street with my best clients, Ted and Martha, when my cellphone rang. I excused myself and answered, hardly daring to hope it might be a lead on another buyer.
Miguel had told me that you get out what you put in when it comes to this industry, but I didn’t have any resources, so it was like squeezing blood from a turnip.
“This is Camden Lewis.”
“Camden, it’s Sherrilyn. So glad I caught you!”
“Oh, hi, Sherrilyn,” I said. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, funny enough, I bumped into that Reid Bishop and his boyfriend at the grocery store the other day. I was friends with his mother, you know.”
“No, I didn’t realize—”
“Yes, I suspect he rather regrets not listing with me. Not that he could have known I was a real estate agent or that you’re so inexperienced.” She gave a shrill laugh. “Anyway, he said I could preview the property, but he didn’t want to step on your toes, so here I am, calling for permission of all things!”
Wow. There were so many things wrong with that statement, I didn’t know what to focus on. The fact that Sherrilyn obviously wanted my Ivy Lane listing or the fact that Reid seemed to regret hiring me. Now, she apparently wanted to look at the house when it was nowhere near market-ready and would probably give Reid an earful about all the things I was doing wrong.
“Give me just a moment,” I said, as my eye twitched with irritation.
Forcing a bright smile that felt like plastic onto my face, I turned to Ted and Martha, the pickiest couple alive. Martha expected granite everything for Formica prices, while Ted cared only about the size of the garage, where he wanted enough space to refurbish cars.
But they were prequalified for a home loan, which made them the cream of the crop when it came to my lineup of clients. I couldn’t afford to piss them off.
“I have a business call,” I said, trying to sound apologetic. I was relieved to have an excuse to escape their dissection of the house, but I was exchanging one annoyance for another. “I can certainly return the call later, if you have more you need to see—”
“No, we’re not sold on this one,” Ted said, casting a look at Martha for approval. She nodded agreement.
“The kitchen is awful,” she said with a sigh.
Exchanging a quick go
odbye and promising to call with more properties to see the next day, I returned to my phone call with Sherrilyn.
“Sorry about that. I was with clients. You were saying?”
“I was just calling to let you know I’m planning to pop by Ivy Lane tomorrow.”
“The house is not ready for any previews,” I said, bristling at Sherrilyn’s nerve to tell me when she was going to preview a property not active on the market instead of politely requesting a viewing. If she wanted me to cooperate, she shouldn’t have implied I didn’t deserve the listing.
“I just want to refresh my memory of the layout and size,” Sherrilyn said. “I have buyer clients who might want to buy it as is, you know. That would be better for your client, wouldn’t it?”
“Well, that all depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether he wants to sell the property quickly under market value, or whether he wants to improve the property to sell it for a much more attractive price,” I said.
“But Mr. Bishop doesn’t live here,” she said. “I’m sure he’d much rather be done with his business here quickly.”
“If you don’t mind, why don’t you let me worry about my client’s priorities? The property is not ready for viewing. I’ll let you know when that changes. Goodnight.”
I hit disconnect, even though I could hear her sucking wind in preparation to launch another argument.
My mood had taken a nosedive at the thought Reid wasn’t as confident in me as he pretended. I shouldn’t be surprised. He was probably more impressed with my ass than my ability to sell a house, but I’d hoped he was beginning to respect my opinions. He seemed to listen to me, but was it all for show?
The man has a boyfriend. He doesn’t need you for cheap thrills, so get over yourself, Camden.
I shook off Sherrilyn’s words. Nothing would resolve itself now anyway. I grabbed the Elm Street house keys and locked up, before returning the keys to a lockbox on the front door. Then drove home to my temporary residence with Miguel and his douche of a boyfriend who hated my guts.
Something had to give soon. Jeremy wouldn’t put up with my presence much longer, and if I had to listen to one more “Miguel blow job special” through the wall, I was going to lose my shit. I couldn’t blame Miguel for trying to keep his boyfriend happy, but I felt a weird mix of guilt and shame when I heard him pleasing Jeremy as a way of soothing his irritation with me. It was just wrong on so many levels.
Maybe I should have listened to Sherrilyn. If Reid sold his property quick and dirty to an investor, I could get a paycheck a hell of a lot sooner. Instead, I was stuck parading as a hot dog and mowing lawns like some high school kid just to save up enough to pay the back rent on an apartment that anyone could break into anytime or to rent an equally disappointing property, because I didn’t have the funds for something safe and secure, much less nice.
Fuck. My. Life.
Seriously.
Chapter 9
Reid
“How was your day, honey?”
Lee shot me a disgusted look as he slid into the car. “Just take me to prison.”
“That bad, huh?”
“My feet have never hurt this much in my entire life.”
Lee groaned as he buckled his seat belt and I pulled out into traffic. He could easily drive himself to and from work, but I had no intention of letting Lee near a vehicle until I trusted he wouldn’t try to disappear and skip out on the trial. Even then, he was never getting his paws on Julius.
“One uptight lady made me remake her sandwich three times. Three times!” he complained. “Then she told my manager, right in front of my face, that I needed better training. She needs better training in the art of being a decent human. I thought drug runners were bad. At least they have some manners.”
I turned disbelieving eyes on him as I came to a stop at a red light. “Are you really comparing the guys who killed your brothers to some lady who’s particular about her food?”
Lee slouched down in his seat. “Well, when you put it like that … no.”
His voice was petulant, and I realized something I tended to forget around Lee. He was crazy young. Just a kid, really. He still had a lot of growing up to do, regardless of his criminal past. He was getting thrown into the deep end of adulthood with the loss of his life as he knew it.
“Sorry your first day was rough,” I said. “I’m sure it’ll get better.”
“I have a college degree,” he pointed out. “I should be a schoolteacher or something. Not a sandwich boy.”
“Yeah, no. I’m not letting you within 500 yards of any minors. In case you forgot, you used to be a drug runner.”
He huffed. “I managed the money, mostly. Balanced the books. Made investments. That sort of thing.”
I drove up the driveway and pulled into the detached garage, which was just clear enough for Julius to fit with a few inches to spare.
“Sounds very dignified,” I said dryly.
“It was. I … oh, fuck you,” Lee said as he realized I was patronizing him. Balancing the books for a criminal operation was hardly something to brag about. The faintest hint of pink flushed his cheeks. Had I embarrassed him? Good. If he started to feel shame over his criminal activities that could only bode well for the future.
I made Lee wait while I scanned our surroundings before leading him inside. The front door was locked, just as I’d left it, and there were no signs of anyone else around the perimeter of the house. Not that it meant much.
I checked the main living areas and kitchen, leaving Lee to rummage for a snack while I continued down the hall to clear the rest of the house. The bathroom and office were on this floor, and the rest of the bedrooms upstairs.
“I’m starving,” Lee called out. “I ate during my break, but that feels about a million hours ago. Man, their food is pretty good, though.”
It was. I’d thoroughly enjoyed my lunch with Camden, though that had been more about the company than the food, tasty as it was.
I stopped short while Lee continued to yammer in the kitchen. The door to the home office stood open. A door that had been securely closed when I left. I flattened myself to the wall and pulled my Glock from my hip holster. Edging toward the door, I pushed it open slowly.
A quick scan of the interior told me it was empty. It was a relatively small room, with no closet. I had never been so grateful for that. The large oak desk took up most of the space in the room, and from my position, I could see under the desk. It was clear too.
Papers were scattered over the surface of the desk, and across the floor. A few boxes were overturned, with their contents jumbled.
I’d worry about that later. I had to make sure Lee was safe.
I rushed back toward the kitchen.
“Lee?” I called, realizing I hadn’t heard his chatter for a minute or two. “Are you okay?”
There was a crash. “Shit—”
I barreled into the kitchen, gun raised, and Lee stumbled back a step, slipped in juice on the floor and fell on his ass.
I took in the kitchen — empty except for the two of us — and then the broken glass in a puddle of orange juice on the floor.
“Fuck!” Lee shouted. “What the hell?”
I lowered my Glock, though adrenaline still had my heart pumping fast. “Sorry about that. Someone’s been here. I thought you might be in trouble when I heard the crash.”
“I am in trouble,” Lee grumbled as he climbed to his feet and twisted to show me the seat of his pants. “My ass is all wet.”
I quirked a smile. “If you’re trying to entice me, it won’t work.”
Lee’s look of offense was comical, and I laughed. The relief that he was okay made me laugh harder than warranted.
“Fuck you, old man. You’re not my type.”
I grinned. “Likewise.”
“Yeah, I figured. You like them more like your Realtor.”
I dropped the grin and glared at Lee. “Right now, no one’s my type. You
’re my boyfriend and I’m yours. We’re monogamous.”
“Monogamously celibate,” Lee grumbled.
“Yep. Now come with me. Whoever broke in is probably gone, but I still have to clear the second floor to be sure and then I’ve got to try to figure out what the hell they were after in the office.”
The news that someone had been in the house finally sunk in for Lee, and he sucked in a sharp breath. “Someone was here? You’re sure?”
I nodded, and his face paled. It was the first sign of fear I’d seen in Lee. Even when meeting him just hours after he was nearly gunned down, he’d had his snark firmly in place, masking his true feelings.
I moved past him, and he followed close on my heels as I checked the back door. I grabbed the door knob and turned. It gave easily under my hand, clearly unlocked. Damn it. I should have checked that door before I left Lee alone. That could have been a fatal error.
“Did we forget to lock it?” he asked in a shaky voice. He whipped his head to look over his shoulder uneasily.
“It’s possible,” I said. “But more likely, someone picked the lock.”
I swore under my breath. I knew the security on this house was crap, but I’d reasoned that if anyone knew our location, we’d be screwed regardless of how sturdy our locks were.
“They could be in here with us,” Lee said. “They could be waiting just out of sight, ready to shoot me. Oh fuck!”
His breath quickened so much his chest began to heave. He was on the verge of hyperventilating if he kept it up.
I grabbed his shoulders and met his eyes. “Calm down,” I said in a quiet voice. “You’re safe.”
“But the door,” he said, looking around wildly.
I shook him a bit. “Stay here, and I’ll clear the house. But Lee, we were already separated. I went down the hall, while you went to the kitchen. That was their best chance to take you out.”
He moaned, clutching at his stomach, and I squeezed his shoulders tight. “They didn’t, right? Because we’re alone here. We’re alone. This is just a precaution.”
