“That de Marco is really something.”
Katie looked across the table at her father. It was the first time he’d paused in eating the meat loaf she’d fixed for his Sunday dinner and lunches next week. The dish was his and her favorite, from her mother’s recipe she’d found in a box shoved in the back of a closet where he’d put many of the painful reminders he’d moved with him from the old house but hadn’t wanted on daily display.
“Yes, he is.” And isn’t that the truth, she added silently. Although now, away from him, she could think of him much more rationally. She wondered what it was that gave some people that kind of overpowering charisma. Was it something in them, some quirk of genetics or chemistry? Or was it something in the people around them, making them react that way? She’d have to research that, see if anyone had ever come up with a plausible theory.
“And that’s really the story, how you met him? The dog?”
She nodded, smiling now although she hadn’t been then. “Cutter’s quite something, as well.”
“He sounds scary smart.”
“Yes.” She wondered if he’d meant the dog or Gavin, but since the same answer applied in either case, she left it at that.
She hesitated before speaking again. It had been a long day, for both of them, but particularly him because he’d spent those hours getting, as he put it, “grilled.” But since she’d been exiled to the garden, she was beyond curious.
“So...did he ask you anything unexpected?”
Her father shrugged. “Some questions I couldn’t see the relevance of.”
“He did that to me, too. I suppose it must mean something to him, or else leads to something else.”
“You know, usually I can figure a man out, after a while. But I have no idea how this one’s mind works.”
“Maybe that’s partly why he was so good at what he did.”
Her father looked at her curiously now. “Do you have any idea why he quit?”
“No, other than to work for Foxworth.”
“I never heard any rumors that he was in trouble or anything.”
Katie was surprised at how much just the idea of that shocked her. She hadn’t found anything in her research to indicate he’d left under a cloud, but she didn’t think she would have believed it if she had, now that she’d met him. Gavin de Marco was intense, brilliant and charismatic, but if he was ethically challenged she’d eat the plate the last bit of her meat loaf sat on.
“I can’t imagine him working for a place like Foxworth if he was that type,” she said. “Quinn Foxworth appears to be the straightest of straight arrows.”
“But de Marco is a lawyer.”
“I think he’s more of an advisor now,” she said.
“Seemed like a guy in charge to me,” her father said drily. He leaned back in his chair, took a sip of the small glass of wine he allowed himself in the evenings, and studied her. “You seem...quite impressed with him.”
She managed not to flush, but it took a very deep breath and great effort. “I’ve never met a household name before.”
“He’s a good-looking man, wouldn’t you say?”
The flush won that time. “Are you asking me or telling me?”
“Aha!” her father exclaimed. “I always know I’ve got you when you answer a question with a question.”
“I’m just trying to figure out what that has to do with anything. And how you can tease me when...when...” She couldn’t finish, and lowered her gaze to that last, lonely bite of meat.
“Baby,” he said, instantly contrite, “I’m just trying to cheer you up. You’re so worried, and I keep telling you there’s no reason. The truth will out eventually. Or maybe sooner, now that Mr. Gavin Household Name de Marco is involved.”
Her gaze shot back to his face. “Then you’re not upset with me for talking to him? You seemed less than excited about it at first.”
“I was,” he admitted. “Maybe I just didn’t want to admit that I might need a lawyer. I’m still not sure I do, mind you, but if I’m going to have one... Well, damn, Gavin de Marco!”
She laughed at both his tone and expression, feeling much better now. Because it was true. Having Gavin on your side was a very big deal.
And given her silly reaction to him, having to deal with him herself was going to be a huge task.
* * *
“Damn, that was fast.”
At Quinn’s words Gavin looked up from the legal pad he was holding. He was sitting beside the fireplace at the Foxworth headquarters, the flames casting a flickering light across the page. Cutter was curled up before the fire, no doubt still a bit damp from his romp in the meadow earlier.
“What?” Gavin asked, lifting the fountain pen from the page. He still took notes with pen and paper because he’d found there was something about the process that got his brain into that zone he needed. Even when he did record an interview, he made written notes, adding to them as he listened to it later, usually with his eyes closed to summon up the memory of how a person had looked or spoken, which was sometimes as important as what they’d said, or more so.
Quinn held up his phone before sliding it back into a pocket. “That was Brett. Word’s out that you’re involved, and already the police are rethinking. Or at least questioning their assumptions.”
“Question is, are they angry?”
“Brett says they’ll get over it. They knew they’d settled on Moore because every other lead washed out,” Quinn said. “Brett gave me the name and number of the lead investigator, who by the way wasn’t at all interested in talking to Moore’s attorney until he mentioned your name.”
Gavin’s mouth tightened. His reputation was the biggest double-edged sword he’d ever dealt with. It sliced through protocol and often reluctance, but it also affected things in ways he wasn’t comfortable with. No one should ever have been negatively impacted just because he was too busy or didn’t want to handle their case. And yet he knew it had happened. It was one of the other reasons he’d walked away.
“If I haven’t said so lately, thanks for taking me on,” he said, not exactly sure why.
Quinn looked startled, then smiled. “I think you have that backward.”
Gavin shook his head. “No. I come with a lot of history, not all of it good, and I know I’m sometimes tough to work with.”
“Tough to keep up with,” Quinn said. “Entirely different thing.”
“Speaking of which, now that we’re rolling I’m going to stay here,” Gavin told him. At his announcement Quinn lifted a brow quizzically. “It’ll be easier on everyone if I’m out of your place,” he explained. “You know how I get.”
He didn’t sleep much anyway, but when he had a case he was up at all hours pacing and going over things, sometimes talking things through out loud.
“Hayley wouldn’t mind, and you know I don’t.”
“But I do. Besides, worrying about disturbing my hosts affects my focus.”
Quinn shrugged. “Well, this is now your baby, so you’re the boss. How did it go with Moore?”
Gavin’s mouth twisted. He stared into the fire, wishing he could let go of that tiny, nagging instinct that said Katie’s father was hiding something. “I quizzed him up and down for nearly three hours. I couldn’t shake him off his story, and I used every interrogation technique I know.”
“Short of torture, I hope?”
His gaze shot back to Quinn’s face. He was clearly joking, but it always rattled him a little to remember that this man had been one of the most elite operators in the military, one who had no doubt been trained in just that sort of technique. He was glad Quinn was on the side of the angels; he shuddered to think what the man could do if he’d gone rogue. But nothing could ever shake the core of who Quinn Foxworth was. Having Hayley in his life now had only solidified that, made him even stronger.
I envy him.
The stray thought flashed through Gavin’s mind. How those in the world he’d once inhabited would laugh at the idea of Gavin de Marco envying anyone, he who had it all. But he did envy Quinn, and what he’d found in Hayley.
He quashed the thought, and the odd shiver that had gone through him when he’d acknowledged it. He was here to work, not indulge in idle musings. And certainly not to have Katie Moore pop into his head every time it happened.
“What does your gut say?” Quinn asked.
“That he’s hiding something,” Gavin admitted.
Quinn cocked his head to give Gavin a curious look. “But we’re taking the case anyway?”
“He’s hiding something,” Gavin repeated, then added, “but I can’t buy that the guy’s a murderer. Especially not of his daughter’s best friend.”
“All right. Need anything from us?”
“Not yet. I’ll be contacting the cops tomorrow, and the victim’s family. Ty’s running down data on them for me.”
Quinn nodded. “Another session with Moore?”
Steven or Katie?
Damn, he needed to get this crazy reaction under control. “Probably. Go home to your wife.”
“Always,” Quinn said with a grin that made that envy spark again.
Quinn headed for the door, then turned to look at Cutter, who hadn’t budged an inch from Gavin’s side. The dog stared back, and Gavin had the craziest feeling they were communicating somehow.
“Not coming?” Quinn asked lightly.
Cutter gave a low woof. Quinn’s gaze shifted to Gavin.
“Well, well. It seems you have a roommate.”
Gavin blinked. “What?”
“I’d say he’s appointed himself your guardian.”
Gavin stared at the dog, who looked up at him with eyes full of utter innocence. “Guardian?”
“He saw you in the aftermath of the whole governor thing. I’d say he knows you’ll bury yourself in this and forget to eat and sleep without someone around to remind you.”
He looked back at Quinn, but saw no trace of a joke in his expression this time. “Seriously?”
Quinn ignored the question. “His food’s in the cupboard next to the sink. Just keep it topped off. He’ll self-regulate. He’ll let you know when he wants out, and he’ll stay close, especially now that he’s adopted you. Oh, and his carrots are in the fridge. Not too many of those, though, or you’ll be sorry one way or another.”
“You’re really going to leave him here, to...what, babysit me?”
Quinn grinned. “Consider yourself a dog sitter, if it makes you feel better.”
Before he could even formulate a response to that, Quinn gave him a mock salute and was gone. Cutter jumped up on the couch beside him, avoiding his loose papers with delicate care. He settled down against the back cushions, and plopped his chin on Gavin’s leg. He looked utterly at home and satisfied.
Gavin looked down at the dark head, and into the amber-flecked dark eyes looking up at him. With a sigh he picked up his pad again and uncapped the fountain pen.
But when he started writing again he was smiling.