I guessed Gabriel had decided there was no point in hiding anymore.

  In the morning, I poured a cup of coffee and wrapping a sweater around my shoulders, walked out of my little house to take him a peace offering. He snapped the lid of his laptop closed before he opened his car window.

  “You must be freezing.”

  He shrugged. “Car has a decent heater.”

  “Well, I thought you might like something different from those lattes you get at Starbucks.” I held the cup out to him. “A little less sugar, anyway.”

  He hesitated only a second. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll be leaving for work in about forty-five minutes. Then I have to be in court about ten-thirty, but I’ll be in the office the rest of the day after that.”

  “I appreciate that, but it’ll probably be another operative on you for part of the day.”

  “They let you get some sleep? That’s nice.”

  He shrugged. “I might have slept in my own bed last night, but you upset things a little with that midnight visit to the boss.”

  “In all fairness, you did tell me to ask him about it.”

  He lowered his head slightly in acknowledgment. And then tasted the coffee I’d made. He coughed, and spat the mouthful back into the mug. He poured the rest onto the street at my feet. I jumped sideways, to avoid getting any on my feet.

  “Hey! It’s not that bad!”

  “Do you own a measuring cup? Or maybe that’s the problem: you put a whole cup in the machine!”

  “It’s not that strong.”

  “It’s so strong that it’s almost as thick as tar! I always thought that was figurative, but now I know it is possible.”

  “So much for gratitude.” I snagged the mug out of his hand. “Next time I’ll just let you suffer.”

  “Please do!”

  “Jerk!”

  “Shrew!”

  I spun around, and crossed the street again. “You’d better watch yourself, mister! I have friends in the police department. I could have your ass arrested for loitering in a residential area.”

  “I have friends in the department, too.”

  “Maybe, but mine are a little higher up the chain of command. You’d be in a cell before your head stopped spinning.”

  “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

  “I guess there is.”

  He tilted his head a little, studying me with a glint of amusement in his eyes. He gestured toward the coffee mug in my hand and said, “Just don’t offer them any of that coffee, or it’ll be your wrists wearing the chrome bracelets.”

  “Asshole!”

  “No, Maclean.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “My name.” He smiled, dropping a little flirty wink. “It’s Maclean, not asshole.”

  I snorted, but I was caught a little off-guard by his sudden change in mood.

  “I suppose we should get to know each other a little if we’re going to be spending so much time together.”

  “We’re not. I’ve already told your boss to back off.”

  “Yes, well, he told me not to take my eyes off you, so I don’t think I’m going anywhere any time soon.”

  He smiled. I knew he thought he was being charming, or amusing, but I didn’t see it that way. “I think I’ll stick with asshole,” I said, turning my back on him and marching off.

  To be completely honest, I was a little disappointed to see that his car was gone when I pulled my car out of the garage. Instead, a green Prius sat where he’d been, with a slight girl behind the wheel studying the screen of a rather large smart phone. She glanced up as I passed her, and then pulled into the road behind me. This must have been the other operative Maclean had mentioned.

  The day was a busy one and I was quickly lost in the flow of it, and I only thought of Maclean, Gabriel, and the mysterious girl every once in a while. It wasn’t until late in the evening that I had a moment to really reflect on what was happening around me. The truth was, I kind of liked the idea of a hot guy following me.

  I plugged his name into the search bar and pulled up a few articles about him. I was a little surprised I hadn’t heard his name before, but then again, the accident happened five years ago, about the time I was wrapped up in helping my mother to cut through army red tape to get Roman into a private hospital where her money would make a difference to his recovery. Talk about wasted effort! And then three years ago, I was in and out of the country, trying to keep a client from being extradited for insider trading. That was back when I worked for a bigger law firm in Atlanta. Not that the clients were much different down there.

  As I read through the articles, I began to develop a picture of a man who’d been through his own personal hell. On the Fourth of July, three years ago, his wife Meredith had been a passenger in a car driven by a woman called Candi Grenville., on the Fourth of July five years ago. Meredith had been to a party at the Grenville’s house down on the beach. Candi Grenville had offered Meredith a ride home. She had had way too much to drink and she missed a curve on a dark road less than a mile from her house. She slammed her 2013 Lexus LS 600 into a tree. Grenville was conscious and walking around when emergency responders arrived on the scene, but Meredith was trapped inside the car. Maclean Harris was one of the responding police officers. He was the one who identified Grenville’s passenger on scene.

  Grenville was arrested at the hospital and immediately booked into the county jail since the accident technically happened outside the city limits. She was charged with drunk driving and vehicular manslaughter. After two years of delays and legal maneuvering, the case finally went to trial and Grenville was convicted. However, the jury felt that Meredith Harris was complacent in her own death by willingly getting into the car with her drunk friend. That was why Grenville was only given three years in a state facility. The fact that her husband divorced her and the lawyer/court fees ate up her entire settlement didn’t do much to make it better for Meredith’s husband, or her mother.

  I was still reading the articles, noting that Candi Grenville had been released from jail not too long ago, when the man himself suddenly burst through my office door and dropped a heavy bag on my desk. I quickly exited the website I’d been studying and shoved the pad I’d been taking notes on into a drawer.

  “What’s this?”

  “I thought I’d offer you something a little tastier than that swill you tried to feed me this morning.”

  “I don’t think my coffee’s—”

  “Let’s not start that argument again. Just taste this. I think you’ll like it.”

  He opened the bag and withdrew a large Styrofoam container that, when he took off the lid, filled the room with an intensely savory aroma.

  “What is that?”

  “Gumbo.”

  “As in Louisiana gumbo?”

  “They do have gumbo in places other than Louisiana. But, as it happens, my father was from Louisiana and he taught me the old family recipe…” He smiled—it was a charming smile. “I think you’ll like this.”

  “Bring it on!”

  I wanted it to be horrible so I could do to him what he’d done with my coffee, but the truth was, the first steaming mouthful was the best thing I’d ever tasted! It was spicy and savory, the sausage was firm, the shrimp perfectly cooked. It was an incredible bit of cooking.

  “Tell me the truth: you bought this from that little diner down on Tenth.”

  “Nope. I made it myself.”

  “There’s no way!”

  “Why? Because I’m a man?”

  “No.” I studied him from across my desk. “Because…because I just can’t believe my damn taste buds!”

  That smile was back, and I wanted to get lost in it. I studied his face for as long as I felt I could get away with it, finding it incredibly hard not to admire the angle of his jaw or the deep blue of those amazing eyes. A part of me wanted to crawl into his lap and press a finger to that full bottom lip, just so that I could feel the pillowy softness I knew existed there. When was the last time I’d actually wanted to touch someone? I’d wanted to be touched, but the desire to touch someone else was…I associated that with something more than just physical relief.

  I dropped my eyes when he smiled a third time, his perfect white teeth like a neon sign announced that he knew I was attracted to him.

  “Did you grow up in New Orleans?” I asked, well aware that he hadn’t.

  “No. I grew up here, on the other side of town.”

  “The other side?”

  “The one opposite the big houses where you grew up.”

  I sat back a little, studying him with a new interest. “Then you do investigate a little more than your boss suggested.”

  “No. I just know the Pierce name.”

  “My name isn’t Pierce.”

  “It was. Once.”

  “Yeah, well, I changed it as soon as I could.” I sipped a little broth from my spoon. “I can’t help where I was born.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you can.”

  “You went to school here, right? At the local high school?”

  “I attended public school, yes.”

  He looked down at his gumbo, running his spoon through it as though looking for a specific piece of meat or vegetables. Once again, I found myself studying him, taking note of all the things about him that made him especially sexy: his big hands with those long, almost delicate fingers, his broad shoulders, his muscular thighs. But it was his face that I kept coming back to— a handsome façade that at times could seem so open, but at others was so tight and closed off.

  He’d met his wife in high school. I wondered if my question had brought up the memory of that.

  “I went to a private school in Wilmington. I sometimes wonder what I missed out on by not going to public school here. Everyone seems to know everyone else in this town, but my social circle seems to revolve around people I no longer care to associate with.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because their parents are my mother’s friends and coconspirators, as I like to call them. They’re the kids I went to private school with, the people who, as kids, attended my debutante ball.”

  “You were a debutante?”

  “All good, rich girls are, don’t you know. Especially here in the South.”

  “I always thought that was a ritual that went out with the Civil War and all that stuff.”

  “Ha!” I shook my head, taking a bite of the slowly cooling gumbo. “Not in the right social circles. And if you’re as lucky as I was, you have a mother who remembers the way it was done in the Old South and she went out of her way to recreate something that Scarlett O’Hara herself might have recognized.”

  Maclean chuckled. “That must have been quite an affair.”

  “It lasted an entire weekend, from Thursday night all the way to brunch on Sunday afternoon.” I shook my head. “It was damned embarrassing, and I ended up sneaking off for most of it, hiding with a group of friends in this old barn on our property, to smoke weed.” I laughed, but then remembered Maclean was once a cop. I slapped a hand over my mouth and groaned. “I guess I shouldn’t have told you that!”

  “Why not? I got pulled over on my sixteenth birthday with an ounce of weed in my glove box. I was so high I was swerving across lanes. I don’t know why the cop let me go without searching the car, but I thank God every day he did!”

  I laughed. “That would have meant no college for you, huh?”

  “I never went to college, anyway. But it would have meant no police academy, no ten years with the police department, no…” He stopped himself, his eyes darkening slightly. “It would have just been bad.”

  I nodded. “Then I guess we’re both lucky our rebellious childhoods didn’t destroy our adulthoods.”

  He set the gumbo on the edge of my desk, replacing the lid on the container. “I should let you get back to work.”

  “Actually, I was about to call it a night. Are you my protector tonight, or are you trading out with the little girl in the Prius?”

  “Little girl in the Prius?” He laughed. “I’ll have to tell Paxton that you called her that.” He stood and began gathering the things he’d brought for dinner. “Are you accepting now that someone is watching over you?”

  “Looks like I have no choice.”

  “Then, yes, I’m your guy tonight.”

  “I hope you brought a blanket. It’s supposed to dip down into the upper forties tonight.”

  “I think I’ll be fine.”

  I handed him my leftovers and watched him repack his bag before I turned my attention to packing up my own things. We walked out together, not really talking as we rode the elevator down to the first floor.

  “Goodnight, Mrs. Gruffydd,” the security guard called as we went through the door.

  “Night, George.”

  Polite to a fault, Maclean walked with me all the way to my car, waiting as I dropped my bag into the back seat.

  “Where are you?”

  He gestured across the street to the Dodge Charger parked at the curb. “I’ll follow you.”

  “I feel safer already.”

  He smiled as he walked off, stepping off the curb with a little hop in his step. I watched, wondering what he would do if I suggested he ditch the car for a more comfortable place to spend the night. He was pretty amazing to look at when he was facing me, but the backside had its qualities, too. It wouldn’t take much to imagine that ass minus those tight jeans.

  I grunted deep in my throat, telling myself I was being a fool. A man like him, he’d be a heartbreaker that was for sure. But if neither of us was looking for the kind of things that led to heartbreak, maybe we could have a little fun without worrying about the pain. The emotional kind of pain, anyway.

  I giggled as I climbed into my car. And then I screamed.

  Chapter 6

  Maclean

  I carried the remains of dinner to the trunk of my car. My thoughts were filled with my conversation with Rylee. Was it stupid that I felt this little bit of ego inflation when she said she felt safer with me around? What man wouldn’t be impressed by such a beautiful woman? And she really was beautiful this lady lawyer I’d been watching for four days — with her dark brown hair with red lights, her green eyes, and that slightly upturned nose—but what really stood out to me was the way she’d came storming up to my car window last night, demanding to know who I was. How many women would do that? Anyone else would have called the police if they thought they were being followed. But no one was going to intimidate this woman, and she’d made that quite clear. I liked that about her.

  The rest of this assignment promised to be quite a ride.

  I was about to get into the car when I heard the scream. I thought for a moment that it was an animal, perhaps a cat that had gotten caught in something. But then I saw Rylee jump out of her car and shake her hands, making a noise that was part scream, part groan.

  I ran across the street, already realizing that I should have taken a peek inside her car before I left her alone. I jerked the driver’s side door open a little wider and looked inside. On the passenger seat was a pile of fur. When I leaned inside, I could see that it was a rather large rat; its skull crushed and bloodied.

  “Oh, God!” Rylee groaned behind me. “Who would do something like that?”

  I stepped back, tugged my phone from a back pocket and dialed the police. Clearly shaken, Rylee watched me, her eyes wide. . Phone calls made, I went to her and placed my hands on her shoulders. .

  “You okay?”

  “Sure. I just…I didn’t expect to find a dead animal in my car!”

  “We should go back into the building while we wait for the police.”

  She shook her head. “No. I just…I want to get this over with and go home. I need a shower!”

  The police arrived a few minutes later, and I was relieved to see an old friend. Jimmy Grant climbed out of the car and sauntered over, the exuding the small town cop’s laid-back attitude with every step.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t Maclean Harris!”

  “Hello, Jimmy.”

  We shook hands, all polite and smiling. but then Jimmy’s eyes fell on Rylee and seemed to narrow slightly and his attitude changed. “Mrs. Gruffydd. “What seems to be the problem here?” His tone seemed strangely disdainful.

  “Someone put a dead rat in my car.”

  Jimmy grunted and bit his lip. He looked at her as if to say, “And the problem is?”

  “Jimmy.”

  He glanced at me. “You called this in?”

  “I did.”

  “Why? Are the two of you involved?”

  “What business of yours would that be?” Rylee demanded. “Someone broke into my car! It doesn’t matter who called in the complaint!”

  I stepped between the two of them. “I’m working a case that involves Mrs. Gruffydd,” I told him. “It’s possible this incident is related, so I really need you to write it up.”

  Jimmy studied me a moment. “Of course,” he said finally. He looked at Rylee again. His contempt seemed to seep from his every pore. But he got out the tablet the department had started using in the field and began asking questions. I answered as many as I could to keep the two of them from talking to each other. It didn’t take long, but it was still pretty obvious Jimmy wasn’t much in the mood to help out Rylee Gruffydd.

  When it was done, Jimmy took the rat with him as evidence and I escorted Rylee to my car. She wanted to have hers cleaned before she’d get into it again. She was quiet most of the ride, rubbing her hands on her thighs over and over again like she was desperate to get them clean. I reached over and touched her shoulder. She smiled, but the smile was only superficial, and her eyes lacked the little sparkle they normally had when she smiled.

  “What’s with all the bad blood between you and Jimmy? He’s a pretty good guy.”

 

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