Aidan’s plan when he set out that afternoon was simple reconnaissance. He’d promised Caroline he would protect her, and he intended to keep that promise. The husband was ruthless and abusive. Caroline had told him that much, but he needed to understand the full extent of the threat. How far would the guy go? He’d stolen her money, and that suggested he had no conscience. Would he hurt her physically? Aidan had brought binoculars. He planned to follow the husband, find out where he went, who he met, what he was up to. He had to make sure Caroline was not in any danger. Maybe there was even a way to get some leverage on the guy, to force him to return Caroline’s money. If Aidan could swing that, he’d be her hero. And he wanted that, more than anything.
Caroline had let slip enough information that Aidan was able to figure out the restaurant where they’d be meeting. It was an Italian place not far from the daughter’s college. He got there early to scope it out. The building was fake limestone with a green awning out front, set back from the street in its own parking lot. The lot was brightly lit on this chill, drizzly evening, and mostly empty—a bad combination. He decided not to wait in the parking lot, where his bright red truck might draw attention. He didn’t need anybody asking questions, didn’t need some Good Samaritan deciding he was a threat and calling his probation officer. He drove around for a while, stopped at a convenience store, bought a Red Bull and a pack of Twizzlers to keep focused. He returned an hour later with his senses on high alert and parked behind a tree at the far end of the lot, away from the lights, hunkering down in the front seat to wait.
Time passed. He closed his eyes and saw Caroline’s face. He visualized kissing her brow, her perfect cheekbones. He remembered the eggs at breakfast, the view from her bedroom. The rain started up again, tattooing on the windshield. His heart beat steadily. His luck had turned that night Caroline walked into the bar at the Red Anchor. His life was good now, with her in it.
Everybody was late, and Aidan was getting antsy. Had they changed the location since he found out about this dinner? There was nothing to do but wait some more. He ran the wipers briefly so he could see out the windshield.
The daughter showed up first, emerging from the backseat of a silver Toyota that sported an Uber decal in its front window. He recognized her from the photos on Caroline’s phone. He felt bad about snooping, but he’d done it almost by accident. He’d seen Caroline type her code into the phone that night in the bar, and it stuck in his head because she used all sevens. Seven was his lucky number, too. He almost said something, how they were alike, but then he didn’t. Good thing, because later, when he was in her bed, and she was fast asleep, he’d picked the phone up to look at her screensaver, which was a picture of the beach in front of her house. He’d recognize that strip of sand anywhere, and he was mesmerized, looking at it. Once the phone was in his hand, he’d typed in her code almost without thinking. Just to see what he saw. Once he started scrolling, it was hard to stop, even though he knew that he was doing something wrong. The impulse to learn about her was too powerful.
He wouldn’t recognize the daughter now if he hadn’t done that. Hannah Elizabeth Stark, age eighteen. She’d be nineteen in November. It was a bit awkward how close they were in age, closer than he was to Caroline. He’d be more like a big brother to Hannah than a stepfather, but they’d make it work. She was average height, average weight, long dark hair, nice face. Not beautiful like her mother, but pleasant-looking. She wore jeans and ankle boots and a sweater. Hannah went inside the restaurant.
Fifteen minutes later, the husband’s car pulled into the lot. A real dick move, letting his daughter show up first, making her wait that long for him. This guy didn’t have a clue about how to treat women. The car was dickish, too, a Mercedes E-Class with New York plates, navy blue and sleek. It was the type of car you might expect a chauffeur to drive, the kind you saw idling outside fancy office buildings in the city every night, waiting for the masters to emerge and get driven to their expense-account dinners. Caroline’s husband was driving himself tonight, though. Jason Stark pulled into a spot right in front of the restaurant and got out. Aidan raised the binoculars and checked the guy out. Stark walked like someone used to getting his way in this world. A confident strut, his broad shoulders in a well-cut blazer tapering to tailored slacks, a hundred-dollar haircut. He didn’t even hurry out of the rain. Why should he? Raindrops couldn’t touch a guy like that. Aidan hated the dude on sight.
Jason went inside. Five minutes later, he came out again, his phone to his ear. Just then, Caroline’s Escalade pulled into the lot. Aidan had been in that car a couple of hours earlier. He sniffed his shirt, trying to recapture the scent of her perfume and feel how it felt when she’d touched him. But it was already a fading memory.
Caroline parked, then walked to the spot under the awning where her husband stood. Aidan expected to see a cold welcome, possibly even a confrontation. He was ready to spring into action if the need arose. Instead they embraced. As he watched, that dickwad took the woman Aidan loved into his arms and kissed her on the lips. It wasn’t a passionate kiss. Still. The guy’s hand was on the small of her back, her head tilting up toward him. A jealous fury bubbled in his blood. He opened the door of the truck and got out. His hands instinctively balled into fists, he was itching so bad to break them up. But uncertainty kept him from going in closer. This could be a ploy on Caroline’s part to lure the husband into letting down his guard and revealing where he’d stashed the money. If so, Aidan shouldn’t screw it up. But what if what he was seeing between them was real? What if she’d lied to him for some reason, and she was still in love with the guy? But no. That wasn’t possible. He was doubting, because this thing with Caroline seemed too good to be true. Because he didn’t believe in himself enough to buy that she really cared for him. He needed to have more faith.
The rain had finally stopped, but the blacktop was shiny and slick. The air smelled of fall. Wet leaves, a tang of woodsmoke. Water dripped from the tree beside him onto the shoulders of his leather jacket as Aidan watched the husband open the restaurant door for Caroline. She went inside. But the husband stayed behind under the awning, on his phone again. He was pacing, waving his arms, looking increasingly agitated. Must be an interesting call. Aidan was too far away to hear. He crept closer, maneuvering between the cars, wishing he had a smoke in his hand. Dirty habit, but it made for a good cover. A man lurking in a parking lot could seem like a threat; a man smoking a cigarette was taking an innocent break.
As Aidan drew within earshot, Stark glanced in his direction and hunched over, shielding his phone, his expression wary.
“Hold on a second,” he said, and stepped out from under the cover of the awning.
Stark slunk around the side of the building until he was out of Aidan’s line of sight and earshot. If the dude was willing to stand in the rain to avoid being overheard by a complete stranger, this call must be something sketchy. Was he talking to the mistress? Were they scheming about the money? Or was it something even worse? Shady dealings that might affect Caroline? Aidan would love to be able to give her a detailed report.
A row of tall bushes along the front of the building gave off a heady smell of wet mulch. Aidan glanced over his shoulder to make sure nobody was looking, then ducked behind them. He brushed against the branches, darkening his clothes with the rain, as he made his way to the corner of the building. He could hear the conversation clearly now. Stark was talking about money, all right. He mentioned a number—half a million. That was a lot of cash, more than a guy would spend on a mistress. This had to be something else, something bigger than cheating. Maybe it was what Caroline had alluded to, that her husband was mixed up in criminal activity of some kind. Aidan moved closer, straining to hear more.
“—at the warehouse?” Stark asked, then paused. “I’m not stupid, Galina.… I’m doing what I can, but I told you, she’s giving me a problem.… You have my word. I’ll call you as soon as it’s done.”
Galina. That had to be the Russian woman. Stark said that someone—somebody female—was giving him a problem. Was it Caroline he referred to? The talking stopped abruptly. Had the asshole moved away again? Aidan couldn’t see. He took a step out from behind the bushes, around the side and—
Pain exploded in the side of his head. He was lying on the wet pavement, on his back, seeing stars.
“What the fuck?”
The guy had sucker-punched him. Aidan touched his temple. His fingers came away bloody. Jason Stark stood over him.
“I don’t know who you are or why you’re following me. But stay away from me, or I’ll kill you,” Stark said.
Then he walked away nonchalantly, like nothing had happened.
Fuck that.
This ain’t over, pal. Not hardly.