“Do they always argue like this?” Reed’s voice was low, audible only to her, as they both kept their attention firmly on Violet and Max.
“Always seems like a stretch since they haven’t known each other that long, but...” Lilah hesitated, running through all the previous times she’d been in both their company. “Well. Yes, they do.”
“It’s fascinating and a bit daunting, all at the same time.”
“That’s because it’s the verbal equivalent of foreplay.” Cassidy murmured the words from across the coffee table, the twinkle in her eyes evidence she hadn’t missed their discussion.
Laughter welled in Lilah’s throat and she reached for her glass of Chardonnay to keep the giggles at bay.
Violet and Max were a sight.
They’d all arrived at Violet’s for light hors d’oeuvres, cocktails and an elaborate crime scene re-creation.
“Where’d you get the whiteboard, Vi?” Cassidy piped up from the rich leather couch that separated the kitchen from the living room. Violet and Max quieted, Cassidy’s question like the bell at the end of a prize-fight round.
“Our storage closet.”
“We have a whiteboard?” Cassidy’s eyes widened. “At our shop?”
“Yes, we have a whiteboard.”
Amusement tinged both their words, but it was Violet’s long-suffering sigh that had them all smiling. Their acute businesswoman was surrounded by creators and Lilah knew they drove her nuts.
The city’s lights filtered through the window of Violet’s high-rise apartment. Lilah loved this place, the city spread out before them. As someone who had lived in Dallas her entire life, it was fascinating to see how the city had changed and grown, and Violet’s building was just one more example of Dallas’s progress.
Floor-to-ceiling glass rimmed half the apartment, the exterior giving way to exquisite views of downtown.
Reed had again chosen a nonalcoholic drink and he settled the soda on the coffee table before leaping up and crossing to the whiteboard, his patience clearly at an end.
Lilah gave him considerable credit for the spry moves, even as she noticed the distinct stiffness in his back. For a man who’d spent the previous night getting bandaged in the emergency room, he had retained a remarkable sense of nimble grace. “Do you mind if I write down a few things?”
“Of course not.”
He made a quick map, placing X’s at various points and a small bulleted list of notes beneath.
“You look like you’re teaching class, Graystone.” Max tossed the good-natured jab before shoveling in a beef crostini.
“Of a sort.” Reed turned around and capped the dry-erase marker. “We have a lot of leads, but once you dig underneath them, what looks like a connection seems like a dead end. What we need to figure out is where there’s a real connection.”
“But we have one. Steven.”
Lilah fought the knee-jerk nausea that swam in her stomach at Violet’s reminder, frustrated that even after talking about the man for two days he could still reduce her to jelly.
“Yes, but how?” Reed asked. “He’s a connection to Robert and Charlie, but we’ve pretty much ruled out his involvement in last night’s violence.”
“Why would you rule him out?” Tucker spoke up from beside Cassidy. He’d been quiet up to now, taking in the discussion.
“The timing just isn’t plausible.”
Reed had shared his thoughts with her earlier and Lilah had to admit it made sense. The time stamp on the video footage he and Jessie had reviewed made it virtually impossible Steven had ordered the cut brake lines.
“But if it’s not Steven, then who?” Violet crossed in front of the board and tapped a fingernail against her glass of wine. “He’s the only logical connection.”
“Maybe not.” Reed walked everyone through some of the other theories he’d tried on her over the past few days. Jessie had already discovered the death certificate on the gem appraiser and Reed had added the man’s details to the other information they knew on the whiteboard.
The working assumption was that the man had talked at some point in the past fifty years.
Beyond that lone fact, Lilah couldn’t see any other connection beyond Steven.
So what was hidden beneath the surface?
There had to be something there, in the soup of words Reed had scratched on the whiteboard. Threads between the disparate information that would lead them to their answers if they only tugged on the right one.
Lilah listened to the arguments with half an ear as her thoughts drifted to Steven.
Where they thought they’d had answers, she now knew all they had was a loose thread.
She knew it was petty to feel disappointed he didn’t appear to be involved in their accident. No matter what she thought about him—or what emotional scars still lingered—the fact remained that it was a long stretch from bully to killer. He was a man who did his damage in private, where he felt powerful and in control. Would he really risk his cushy life for something with such dire consequences as murder?
But even as she tried to convince herself not to be disappointed Steven wasn’t at fault, something stopped her.
Lingering anger over three lost years of her life?
Was she so petty that she’d allowed Steven to remove any sense of compassion? Had his slow and steady decimation of her self-esteem also eroded her belief that people were fundamentally good?
And that an individual was innocent until proven guilty?
Hell, in her mind she’d already hung Steven by the noose of his vanity and small personality, assuming he had added killer to his less-than-stellar résumé.
And what did that make her?
Suffocating fingers clawed at her throat and she excused herself to the restroom. Maintaining even strides, she had no interest in tipping off the rest of them that she was in the middle of a meltdown over the horrifying realization that her soul was still as damaged as ever.
But damn it all.
Damn, damn, damn.
Steven. Why did it always come back to Steven?
Violet had left a small light on in her spare bedroom and Lilah slipped inside. She could still hear them arguing and was grateful everyone was distracted by the discussion at hand.
A few minutes.
That was all she needed to get her raging thoughts under control. To get the roiling storm of memories back in the bottle, the stopper of her iron will trapping them tight inside.
She’d healed. She had moved past the abuse and the bruises and the damn heartbreak. She’d begun to believe in herself again. In her ability to make decisions and believe they were the right ones for her future.
And in a few short days, all that time and effort had vanished as if it had never been.
“Would you like a refill?” Violet stood in the doorway, the Chardonnay in her hand, the contents catching the light of the small bedside lamp she’d left on earlier.
Lilah stared down at her empty glass. “How’d you know?”
“Reasonable hunch. You said restroom but you took your glass with you.” Violet refilled her wine, then followed with her own. “Want to talk about it?”
“Isn’t that all we’ve been doing is talking about it?”
“I suppose.” The edge of the mattress depressed as Violet sat down next to her. “But sometimes it’s the things we’re not saying that cause the problem.”
“I’ll give you one good guess what I’m not saying.”
“Steven DeWinter. The gift that keeps on giving.” Violet took a sip before exhaling on a huge sigh. “Bastard.”
“Yeah.”
“What did Reed think of him last night?”
“He didn’t say much, but his cop’s eyes spoke volumes.”
“That man doesn’t miss much.”
Lilah thought about his steady view of the restaurant the night before. Like a predator, he appeared unaffected by his surroundings, yet she knew he saw everything.
Watched everyone.
And could pounce with lethal force at a moment’s notice.
“I’m sure he spent the entire time wondering how I could be stupid enough to mix myself up with Steven.”
“If you believe that, then I think you’re sorely underestimating Reed.”
“How couldn’t he?”
“I think the real question is how could you? The man’s done nothing but defend you and believe in you. And if my powers of intuition and an ability to sense sexual tension are any indication, he’s already in way over his head with you.”
Lilah diligently ignored the image of her and Reed wrapped up in each other, focusing on the matter at hand.
“He got a taste of my jerk of an ex-husband last night. How could he possibly see me as anything but some dumb woman, taken in by a preening peacock?”
Violet remained still, her steady green gaze considering. “Do you remember last year? When I forgot that big spring booking and the couple went somewhere else.”
Stymied by the change in topic, Lilah could only nod. “Yeah. Sure.”
“I cost us a six-figure affair. We’d have likely cleared about twenty thousand to our bottom line.”
“It was a mistake.”
Lilah’s eyes were sharp. Unflinching. “Yes. Exactly. It was a mistake. Clearly, you’re capable of recognizing them.”
“This isn’t the same.”
“While I won’t argue the emotional impact of what you dealt with is far more severe, the fundamental concept of a mistake is just that. Something unintentional.”
Lilah wanted to argue the point but—as usual—Violet had wrapped whatever she was saying in a nice neat bow. Crafty and cunning, that was their Violet.
“It’s not the same.”
“Suit yourself.” Violet took a small sip of her wine before she spoke once more. But where Lilah braced herself for another round of arguing, Violet knocked her sideways.
“You said Reed doesn’t miss much.”
“No, not that I’ve seen.”
“Me, neither. And what I’ve observed is that he certainly doesn’t miss you.”
The protest sprang to Lilah’s lips with the speed of a bullet. “It’s not something either of us can act on.”
“Why not? And if you tell me it’s because he’s a cop, I’m taking the wine away.”
Lilah smiled at that, the threat swift and immediate. “You don’t play fair.”
“Forget fair. You’ve got an opportunity for something wonderful. Don’t run from it.”
“I’m not running.”
“You’re making excuses and it’s the same thing.”
“But what if—” Lilah stopped, her earlier thoughts rising up in a cacophony of mental noise. “I have baggage. And while I know that hardly makes me unique, it’s baggage that interferes with his case.”
“Because your ex-husband is a suspect?”
“Because I want my ex-husband to be a suspect.”
Violet stared at her wine before she turned, a small smile ghosting her lips. “I can usually interpret Lilahspeak, but you need to give me a bit more here. Because try as I might, I really don’t follow you.”
“Steven’s in this. I can feel it. But all evidence suggests he wasn’t at fault for last night.”
“You don’t know that. And even if he wasn’t responsible for the act or for deciding to have you killed, it doesn’t mean he’s innocent. The man knows what’s going on. He practically told you that when he pretended not to know or care Robert and Charlie were murdered.”
“But he couldn’t have ordered the hit on us. And there’s a part of me that wants it to be him so Reed can wrap this up, nice and tight. What kind of person does that make me?”
“Human.” Violet’s sharp answer brought her up short and Lilah could only stop for a moment and stare.
Even as she knew it was hardly fair to condemn anyone, her friend’s ability to hold up a mirror was refreshing. The guilt receded like a wave going back out to sea.
“People make their own choices, Lilah. If Steven’s in this, and by all accounts he is, he’s done this to himself.”
“I know.” Lilah nodded, a forced laugh bubbling in her throat. “My ex-husband certainly is the gift that keeps on giving.”
Violet was about to pat Lilah’s arm when she stopped, her eyes widening. “That’s it.”
“What?”
“It’s not his involvement so much as his connection. Maybe Steven’s been the conduit all along. Cassidy thought it was Robert but maybe it’s been Steven as the connection to whomever is the one behind the scenes leading all this.”
“It fits.”
It did fit and Lilah opened her mind to that possibility.
And to the reality that her past with her husband had little to do with the very real problem they faced now. Steven knew Robert and Charlie and he had access to any number of the city’s movers and shakers. Not everyone amassed wealth in a way that was honest and aboveboard and, knowing her ex-husband as she did, recognized that could be rather intoxicating.
And if some lingering part of her wanted to pin all their problems on Steven, forcing him to serve out the rest of his life in a cage, his golden-boy reputation ruined beyond repair?
Maybe it was time to accept the emotion and move on.
“Reed will get to the bottom of this.” Violet’s conviction was the final balm she needed to reset her expectations.
“You really think it’s only human to want to see my ex-golden-boy-jerkwad get his comeuppance?”
Violet nodded, a gleam lighting her vivid green eyes. “Hell, yes. A good comeuppance is all that jerkwad will ever deserve.”
* * *
Reed navigated the last few blocks to Lilah’s house. She’d kept up a steady stream of chatter on the short drive, but he had the distinct sense her heart wasn’t in it. She’d flitted from topic to topic, seemingly unable to stick to anything.
The evening at Violet’s had been equally confusing. Despite three hours of going over any and all connections the six of them could think of—including a dissection of how close Steven DeWinter was with Robert Barrington and Charlie McCallum—they weren’t much further along than when they’d begun. He did manage to capture a few notes he wanted to follow up on, but nothing felt all that solid.
Their landlady, Jo, was still in the hospital, but Cassidy’s latest information was that she was being moved to a rehabilitation facility the next day. He thought he’d take some time to gently question Jo and Max’s grandfather and see if he could get any further on the jeweler who’d appraised the rubies before they were buried.
Beyond that, he didn’t have much.
“You doing okay?”
“Sure.” Her tone bordered on a squeak and Reed had another layer of reinforcement that something had shaken her.
“You and Violet were gone for a while. Please don’t tell me the two of you were cooking up a new scheme to draw this problem out?”
“Our vigilante days are over. Cassidy learned that lesson the hard way and it was a warning to us all.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Unless you count the ruby you still carry around as a genuine vigilante move.”
“That’s a bargaining chip.” He caught her smile from the corner of his eye as he turned the corner for her block. “And you’ll be pleased to know I was just thinking earlier that it’s time to get it in a safety deposit box and out of my shoe.”
“Hallelujah.”
All he got for his efforts were her rolled eyes, but Reed was pleased to see them on firmer footing. He let the moment hang another few beats before pressing her once more. “Did something else upset you?”
“No.”
He pulled up to Lilah’s home, that lingering sense something was wrong only reinforced by her leap out of the car.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“I’ll walk you up.”
“It’s not—” She broke off at his steady stare and nodded. “Thanks.”
The night was quiet, the oppressive August air surrounding them like a thick, wet blanket. He remembered nights like this when he was on patrol, trying to manage tempers when the stifling heat only added to a domestic dispute or a fight between rivals.
Those days that had seemed endless, he remembered now, when all he wanted was a shot at the detective’s test and to prove himself.
Reed followed Lilah to her door, the skills he’d honed over the past fifteen years jingling loud and clear that she was upset about something.
“Mind if I come in for a cup of coffee?”
She fumbled her key before fitting it in the lock. “Sure.”
The door swung open and she made quick work of the alarm, disarming it, then resetting it once they were both inside. He didn’t miss the slight tremble of her fingers once more as she tapped in the long code, the system flipping to green as she hit the armed button.
Although he knew the direction, he followed behind her as she wended her way through the darkened house, flipping on lights as she went. “Different lights are on than last night.”
“Well, sure. I can’t have the timers go on at the same time or in the same place. What’s the point of having them, then? All anyone would need to do was watch the timers for a few days and they’d still know I was gone.”
Intrigued, he couldn’t resist pressing her. “Who’s watching?”
“You never know.”
Small traces of fear echoed beneath her words and—not for the first time—Reed cursed Steven DeWinter. Although he suspected she and her mother had formed a protective circle around each other after her father died, DeWinter was the one responsible for turning awareness of one’s surroundings to fear.
“How’d you get away?”
“Excuse me?” She turned from where she measured coffee at the counter, her eyes wary, like a mouse watching a large cat.
“Steven. The jerk you married. How’d you get away?”
“Why are you asking about him?”
“Because I can only assume Steven DeWinter is the reason you have lights all over your home set on varying timers to foil would-be intruders. And I can only guess he’s the reason you lock your home up tighter than the entrance to a gold mine. And, finally, I can deduce from both that he’s the reason that layer of wary fear fills your warm brown eyes no matter how hard you try to hide it.”
He ran a lone finger down her shoulder, intrigued by the solid strength in that small frame. “So strong, yet so afraid. Why?”
The slight tremor he’d seen in her fingers shifted to a full-on tremble as she measured the coffee. “I don’t want to discuss it.”
“Are you sure? Because I suspect that’s exactly what you discussed with Violet tonight when you both disappeared.”
Lilah flipped the switch on the coffeemaker, anger rapidly replacing the fear. “You’ve no right to ask me this.”
“We’ve moved well past rights.” He touched her once more, unable to resist.
And in that moment, he realized how desperately he wanted her to come to him.
Willingly.
* * *
Lilah warred with herself. She knew it was dangerous to accept what Reed offered. Steven may have shattered her sense of self, but the man before her had the ability to crush her, heart and soul.
She knew it as clearly as she drew breath.
Reed Graystone had the power to simply destroy her.
And still, she wanted him. Wanted what he offered. Wanted the safety and the sheer exhilaration of being in his arms.
“You still don’t have the right to ask me these questions.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” His gray gaze was speculative in the subdued glow of the lights that hung over her sink. “I think it’s killing you to keep it in and who better to tell than a cop?”
Who better?
And then his arms were open and she was launching herself into them, the thick, steady beat of his heart thudding beneath her ear.
Why had she resisted?
Especially when safety felt so damn good.
They stood there for a moment, aware yet quiet, before Lilah summoned up the words. The usual pain of the memories was muted somehow, as if they couldn’t swipe at her while she stood in the protective circle of his arms.
“It was Las Vegas.”
His arms tightened, but he said nothing, just waited for her to continue.
“Steven had the opportunity to build a property in one of the new hotels in Vegas. It was all he could talk about, week after week, the plans and the menu. I was careful to show only my excitement, encouraging him in each and every conversation, and he responded in kind. I had my husband back.”
While her time with Steven had remained vivid in her mind, those last weeks were especially sharp. The late nights, talking over his new restaurant. His palpable excitement and her feeling that they might have returned to common ground.
That she might have rediscovered the man she’d fallen in love with.
“It was thrilling. I thought I might finally have my marriage on track.”
“But it wasn’t.”
Lilah lifted her head from his chest and stared into those compelling eyes, so full of understanding and compassion. She’d feared censure.
Had feared pity even more.
But all she saw was understanding and acceptance.
“No. It wasn’t. I was supposed to accompany him to Vegas for one of the last construction meetings before the restaurant opened and I caught a massive bug. Flu, chills, all of it.”
“Let me guess. He wasn’t very understanding.”
“No.” Lilah shook her head as her mind summoned the moments, that last night the stuff of nightmares. She was already weak, her body rebelling as it fought off a virus.
And then she’d had to fight the one man in the world who should love her. Respect her. Revere her.
“It started with a small shove, up against the counter as I reached for a tissue. I was miserable, already crying, and my nose was running extra hard because of the flu. He just kept screaming at me. How I didn’t understand. How I was jealous, sabotaging his moment.”
“Despite the fact that you were visibly ill.”
“Yes.” She nodded, the lingering shame of the moment—of staying far too long in a situation that was toxic—rising up to swamp her. With deep breaths, she reminded herself that she was okay. That she’d gotten away.
That she was safe.
“What happened, Lilah?”
“He finally pushed too hard. Slammed me into the counter as the discussion rose to a fever pitch. I cracked two ribs on the thick marble I’d chosen myself for our kitchen.”
“Why didn’t you have him arrested?”
“I tried. He had several slick lawyers and I...didn’t.”
“And he didn’t come after you?”
“I had one ace in my pocket that kept him from succeeding. Two, actually.” Lilah smiled now, the image of her two best friends the beacon of light that saw her through. “They’re both pretty connected in town, between Cassidy’s father and Violet’s parents. Violet suggested that it would be a simple matter of spreading a few rumors about his business and his behavior. The police might not listen but gossipmongers certainly would.”
“Social destruction. I can see where that would be a bigger threat than jail time.”
“Exactly.”
“And he’s left you alone?”
“Until he walked up to our table at Portia, I haven’t seen him since that night.” Through very careful maneuvering, she acknowledged to herself, but the point was still fact. She and Steven had gone their separate ways. Their divorce was handled through lawyers and she’d spent the ensuing years doing her level best to forget she’d ever met Steven DeWinter.
Her hands still lay on his shoulders, the thick muscles under her fingertips strong and solid. He was a good man. An honorable one. And he made her forget to be scared.
For both those reasons, she owed Reed Graystone a debt of gratitude.
But it was the man before her who stirred something else. Something more.
Lifting on her tiptoes, she pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Stay.”