by Peggy Jaeger
****
Rick knocked on Josh’s open door, realizing too late his partner was on his cell phone.
Josh held up one finger to signal him to wait, so Rick slid into the room and dropped down into one of the comfortable chairs in front of the desk.
“Babe, if she said she doesn’t want my help, there’s not much I can do. I think we should respect her wishes.” Josh glanced at his partner and swiped his free hand through the side of his hair.
Kandy? Rick mouthed.
Josh nodded.
“I know, I know,” he said, shaking his head. “We can talk about this when I get home…yes, I promise…fine…I love you, too.”
When he disconnected, he shot Rick a flustered eye roll. “I’m so glad I have brothers.”
Rick grinned. “Sister drama?”
“Is there any other kind?”
“So, how is my favorite pregnant chef-lebrity doing? She on the good side or the bad side of the drama?”
“She hates that term, you know.” Josh blew out a breath and sat down.
“And still…” He lifted his hands, his grin widening.
“You’re an asshole, sometimes. Just saying.”
“Only sometimes?” He faked a frown. “I must be slipping.”
His partner threw him a speaking glance. “Must be. Anyway, what’s up?”
It didn’t escape Rick that his partner hadn’t answered the question.
“I got the police reports on the case you wanted me to go over. Your mom’s friend, Beverly Castle?”
“Her friend’s sister, actually. Anything pop, other than what the sister already told us?”
“Not necessarily pops, but there are inconsistencies. And questions that haven’t been answered despite the police closing off on the case.”
Josh leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers together. “Go on.”
Referring to his notes, Rick said, “The crash was reported at 8:05 p.m. When the emergency team arrived at 8:12, they agreed the scene reeked of alcohol, and they found an open and empty bottle of whiskey on the front passenger-side floor. Blood alcohol level on autopsy was zilch, though.”
“So she didn’t drink it.”
“Yeah. I called a contact at the morgue—”
“Let me guess. The redhead with the PhD from Harvard and the big…lips?”
Rick smiled. “Delany. Yeah.” His eyes went to half-mast remembering the dinner he’d bribed her with to pump her for information. “She’s very detail oriented. I like that in a woman.”
Josh shook his head. “One of these days your contacts”—his fingers drew air quotes around the word—“are gonna all bump into one another, and there’ll be hell to pay. Hope I’m around to see it.”
“You can hope all you want,” Rick said. “Doesn’t mean it’s gonna happen.”
Josh shook his head again. “What did you find out?”
“From the level of booze that should have been in Castle’s blood, she’d have been stuporous, her coordination would have been shot, and she certainly wouldn’t have been able to drive a car.”
“Which she did.”
“Yeah, and there are more inconsistencies. Car crashed at 8:05. At 6:10, she was seen leaving her office after coming back from a full day in court by half a dozen people who all claim she was stone-cold sober. Say, five minutes to walk to her car, then drive home. That leaves an hour and fifty minutes before she crashed.”
“What’s her usual drive time?”
“Twenty minutes, thirty in traffic. She crashed before she ever made it to the expressway.”
Josh frowned. “So, she what? Stopped someplace? Maybe bought the bottle at a liquor store she passed?”
“Maybe. But to drink so much, so fast, Delany says anyone would start to show the effects within minutes. There was no food in her stomach. She’d skipped lunch ’cause she was in court.”
“An empty stomach makes alcohol absorption quicker.” Josh said. “There’s nothing to soak it up so it goes straight to the bloodstream.”
“Yup.”
“So her alcohol level would have been through the roof if she’d drunk the bottle. Did they do a tox screen for anything other than booze?”
“Minimal. Nothing else stood out.” Rick glanced down at the notes he’d already memorized. “ME ruled it death by misadventure. Lady crashed her car for some unknown reason and died from her injuries.”
“Neat and tidy.”
“Except for the fact her sister and everyone I talked to said Beverly Castle didn’t drink. Ever. Her husband was an alcoholic. Sister said she kicked him to the curb years ago because she hated his drinking. She never touched anything alcoholic.”
Josh bit the inside of his cheek. “So if she didn’t chug down an entire bottle of booze then get into a car, that means the crash was staged. What else have you got?”
“The police figured she might have been upset about a case, or something going on in her life and decided to off herself. I ran through her caseload with her supervisor’s permission, and there was nothing out of the ordinary. Although social work can be emotionally draining—the supervisor’s term—Castle’s clients were all doing fairly well. She lived alone, had two cats who everybody agreed were her”—he pulled his fingers into air quotes as Josh had done—“babies. No man in the picture, or woman, no recent breakup or anything that would cause her to take her own life.”
“That’s what my mother said.” He blew out a breath and rocked backward in his chair. “Back to the autopsy?”
“Shoot.”
“No signs of a beating?”
Rick shook his head. “Older car, no airbag, wasn’t wearing her seatbelt, so when she hit, she pretty much pulverized her face. There was a notation she had a bruise on the side of her neck consistent with a seat belt, but, like I said, she wasn’t wearing one.”
“ME didn’t think it unusual?”
“Nope. Stated something hit her, probably the empty bottle before it rolled to the floor. End of story.”
“It certainly sounds weird when you lay it all out that way. What do you think?”
“You know I hate when things don’t add up. Out-of-character events with no apparent reason are hinky to me.”
It was Josh’s turn to nod as he regarded his partner. “Always were, even when we were kids. What are you gonna do? Keep searching for an answer? Or should I tell my mom there’s nothing more to pursue and the cops did what they could?”
“I want to keep digging. At least for a little while.”
“Okay. Anything turns up to give Castle’s sister some peace, let me know.”
Before he could reply they both turned at a knock on the door.
“Hey,” Kyros Pappandreous said. “Am I interrupting?”
“Nah, we’re done,” Josh told the third partner in their private investigative firm, and his most recent brother-in-law. “What’s up?”
Ky came into the room, his hands in his tailored pants pockets. “Kandy call you?”
“Yeah.” Josh blew out another deep breath and then chuckled. “Let me guess: my lovely, pregnant, and hormonal wife told your lovely wife—”
“Who’s also pregnant and hormonal.”
“—about what happened at Abby’s office.”
At the mention of the second-oldest Laine sister, Rick snapped to attention.
Ky sat in the other room chair, stretched his long legs out in front of him, and folded his hands on top of his flat abdomen. “And Abby refused help. Outright. Both our wives think we should disregard her refusal.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Rick asked. “What happened to Abby? Is she hurt?”
“She’s fine,” Josh told him, swiping a hand through the air. “The husband of one of her clients burst into her office today, armed for a fight about a restraining order.”
While Josh related what Kandy had told him over the phone, Ky joining in with Gemma’s second-hand information and opinions, Rick did his best to suck b
ack the worry screaming through him.
Since his best friend had married Kandy Laine, Rick had been treated like a de facto adopted brother by the family, and like a brother, he teased and joked with them easily. He enjoyed their company and could completely relax around them.
All but Abby. Whenever he was around her he was on edge, watchful, and tense.
When they’d been introduced at Kandy and Josh’s engagement party, Rick had been intrigued by her forthright and no-nonsense manner. She’d been attracted to him and had made no secret of it. He’d flirted and joked with her, never taking it further. He was always upfront with women, telling them he wasn’t looking for a commitment. He wouldn’t be putting a ring on anyone’s finger—ever.
Some had tried to dissuade him of that. And failed.
Despite his attraction to Abby, he wasn’t going to let anything start between them. He liked her too much, respected what she was trying to do with her life, and didn’t want to hurt her by telling her she would never be anything more to him than a bedmate.
He knew he could fight his attraction to her; he wasn’t fifteen, after all.
But then she’d gone and kissed him at Josh and Kandy’s wedding.
Jesus, that kiss.
Four years later and he could still remember every second of it.
The way she’d lifted up on her toes and, without any warning, latched onto his mouth. He’d gone as still as a stone until a tingle low in his belly started and then shot straight up his spine like a rocket launching.
Everything about her taste, the way she folded into his arms, the pounding of her heart against his chest had seemed familiar.
His body reacted to—as he’d told her at the time—a gorgeous woman in his arms. But it had been a bold-faced lie. Never before had Rick been so out of control of a situation with a woman. When the idea bloomed clear and bright in his mind to drag her upstairs to his hotel room and slake the need, the craving she’d called up from within him, he knew he had to put a stop to what they were doing.
He couldn’t—wouldn’t—use Abby.
In all the years since, he’d kept a wide berth between them, a space that protected them both. It didn’t stop him, though, from being concerned for her safety.
“Sounds like it could have turned into a serious situation. Why is she brushing it off?” he asked.
Josh tilted his chair back and shrugged. “Who knows? Abby is…Abby. Kandy said it wasn’t the first time an irate client got through the door to her, though.”
“Are you shitting me? This has happened before?”
“According to one of the security guards who came to her office,” Ky nodded, “it was the second time this week. I don’t have any details except Abby played it down. Gemma told me one of the reasons Abby moved to the new offices, though, was because the building offered onsite security. The old place didn’t. She’s lucky this guy didn’t have a weapon.”
“Christ.” Rick shook his head, all the implications of Ky’s statement flying through his head. “She’s never said anything to either of you about any other incidents? About being worried for her safety or”—he flipped his hand carelessly in the air—“whatever?”
Both men shook their heads.
“Of all the sisters,” Josh said, “Abby’s the one who keeps things to herself. The rest of them are like open books. Share everything, know every single bit about what’s going on in the others’ lives. Abby doesn’t.”
“What are you gonna do?” he asked Josh.
“I don’t know. I’ll certainly offer to have someone stationed at her office, but if she doesn’t want it, there’s really nothing else I can do, especially if she thinks this isn’t a problem.”
“She’s probably saying that because she doesn’t want to worry anyone,” Ky put in.
Josh shot a finger at him. “Bingo.”
“She’s too damn stubborn for her own good.” Rick tossed the file he’d brought into the office to the floor, irritation flowing from his voice. “You’re not gonna let this slide, are you?” he asked, realizing too late he was letting his emotions run through his voice. Emotions he usually kept to himself. “She could be seriously hurt by some whack-job who barges in again. And like Papps said, the next time he could be armed. You need to do something, man.”
Both of his partners stared at him with similar expressions. The corners of Josh’s lips were turned up slightly, his head cocked to one side. The skin at the corners of Ky’s eyes was pulled tight, his brows almost kissing.
The men glanced at one another, something passing between them Rick couldn’t place.
“Your concern is noted,” Josh said. “I’ll see what I can do to convince her having someone at the office isn’t a bad idea. In the meantime, we’ve got work to do around here.”
“And that’s my cue,” Ky said, rising. “I’ve got a conference call in a few.”
“Let me know how it goes,” Josh told him. “Dylan is due to check in pretty soon, and Aiden’s almost finished up in Dallas,” he added, mentioning his brothers. “I’ll let you know what they report back.”
When Ky quit the room, Josh turned to Rick. “Look. I know you and Abby have this whole repressed, love/hate, push-my-buttons thing—”
“The hell does that mean?”
Josh stared hard at him. “You know exactly what it means.”
Unfortunately, he did. He didn’t think anyone else knew, though.
He waited a moment to speak until the shock wore off. “You’re a freak in the way you read people, Keane.” He dragged his hands through his hair, then cradled them at the back of his neck.
With something dangerously close to sympathy, Josh shot him a look and continued. “Do me a favor, will you, and don’t go barging into her life, ready to play protector. It’ll just make her mad and ensure she never lets us help.”
“What makes you think I’m going to?” He was, but…
“I’ve known you since we were, what? Five? You’ve always been the protective, let-me-handle-the-bad-stuff guy. It’s how you’re wired, what you do, and how you treat people you care about.”
Rick lifted a shoulder, embarrassed.
“Let me handle this thing, with Abby. Deal?” Josh asked.
Rick gave his partner a terse nod.
“And keep me updated on anything you find out about Castle. I’d like to give the sister some peace. And get my mother off my back.”
Rick stood and retrieved the file from the floor. “I’ll keep digging. There’s got to be something.” He turned at the door and, over his shoulder added, “Let me know what happens with Abby, will ya?”
“Yeah.”
Back in his own office, and as his partner had done, Rick tipped his chair back, joined his hands together behind his neck and ran through what he’d been told.
Abby Laine was a stubborn, willful woman. Rick knew down to his toes if Kandy hadn’t witnessed today’s incident, Abby would never have mentioned it to anyone, preferring to deal with the problem herself.
As hardwired as Rick was to protect the people he cared about, he knew Abby was equally intent to keep those she loved from worrying about her.
He lifted his feet to his desk, tipping the chair back even farther, and gave some serious consideration to how he could keep an eye on her without her—or his partners—knowing. Because despite the none-too-subtle warning Josh had tossed him, there was no way he was going to stay out of Abby’s life if there was a threat lurking around her.
No. Fucking. Way.
Chapter Three
Abby pushed through the double doors, said good morning to the security guards, and then lucked out by grabbing an empty elevator. Briefcase in one hand, a thermal mug filled with tea in the other, she flicked her hip to open the door to her reception area and smiled.
“You beat me every day. Even when I leave my apartment early.”
Verna Moren stopped filling paper into the laser printer and returned her boss’s smile with a crooked one of her o
wn. “Don’t be too impressed, Abby. This damn menopause insomnia has me up at three a.m. like clockwork. After I shower, dress, eat, and get ready for the day, it’s still only four thirty. By the time I get here, my body thinks it’s time for lunch.”
Abby laughed and accepted the stack of files Verna offered her.
“Your schedule is pretty full today. No court appearances until tomorrow, though.”
“Good. Tell Phoebe to come see me when she gets in.”
“She’s got a final this morning, so she’s gonna be a little later than usual.”
“Oh, right. She mentioned that yesterday. Well, whenever she gets here, have her find me.”
Abby settled into her desk chair and ran through the appointment list. Two custody follow-ups, one parental rights termination, and a meeting with Lila Genocardi Abby had scheduled yesterday. After the woman’s husband had stormed into her office, Abby wanted to check to make sure Lila understood the gravity of the restraining order and what was going to happen next, legally.
The morning moved quickly, and after two back-to-back sessions with clients who’d grown emotional, Abby needed another cup of calming tea. The moment she opened her office door, laughter filled her ears, one laugh in particular making all her other senses go dormant.
Low, deep, throaty, and with enough of a just-woken rasp to conjure images of moonlit bedrooms and tangled sheets, it was a laugh Abby would recognize anywhere.
He was holding court with Verna and Phoebe, both of whom had wide smiles on their faces and rosy blushes crossing their cheeks. With a hip casually leaning against Verna’s desk, he said something that had both women, her fiftyish receptionist and her twenty-something paralegal, chortling like teenagers.
Dressed for comfort in a sky-blue, long-sleeved Henley that lightened the cocoa in his eyes to a deep umber and black Dockers covering his yards of leg, he oozed charm and casual ease from every pore. Abby had never been able to figure out if his careless air was intentional or ingrained.
