28. Chapter 28 – Lucy
D rew wasn’t kidding about the bartender at Apothecary cutting them off. We stuck to sodas, ready for the inevitable fallout from letting Gran have access to tequila. The woman didn’t need booze to make bad decisions.
I snorted. Not like I could talk. I’d seduced Clay into a night of crime.
And somehow, he’d convinced our friends to help.
It’d be adorable if it didn’t scare me silly.
Did the man have no sense of self-preservation when it came to me?
I loved it, even if it made me feel guilty for dragging him into my mess.
Gran lined up shots, passing another round to Anya, Vi, and Rae. Dutifully, they clinked glasses before tossing them back.
Each drink only seemed to embolden Gran.
She eyed us over her next glass. “You two look awfully cozy.” A slow wink followed, more of a lazy blink than anything, like her eyelid wanted to give up halfway. “Thick as thieves . Find anything interesting?”
Her volume made me wince. We didn’t need the entire bar hearing our business. Or word getting back to Chaz.
Vi dropped a hand on her grandmother’s shoulder. “Gran, we can’t talk about that here. Let’s go home.”
We carted a sloppy Gran out to Clay’s truck. Rae and Zach climbed in the back, and Drew passed me his keys so I could take his truck.
“I’ll drop Anya, Drew, and Vi off, then meet you at your place?” I asked Clay.
Clay dipped his chin. “Drive safe, Lucifer.”
“What about Lee?” Vi warbled as I led her, Anya, and Drew to the truck.
“He’s going to sleep it off on his boat, remember?”
She twisted, her expression edging into morose territory. “Maybe I should go camp under the stars with him.”
Gently, I grabbed her elbow, turning her back toward the parking lot. “Nuh-uh. You need your beauty sleep, remember?”
“Pssshhhh,” she blew out a long breath, rolling her eyes.
She twisted toward the marina, longing in her soft expression. Like she’d give up sleep if it meant Lee wasn’t lonely. If my choices were Clay under the stars or a lonely bed, I’d choose the boat too. But I’d be a bad friend if I let her make those kinds of decisions under the influence of tequila.
“C’mon, lover girl.”
She’d deny all of this tomorrow. That was what made it fun.
Drew and Anya had climbed into the back seat without complaint. It may have had something to do with the way Drew’s hands kept crawling beneath Anya’s skirt when he thought we weren’t looking. They seemed highly motivated to get home.
“C’mon, Vi,” Drew called. “Let’s go.”
Vi scowled, casting a wistful glance toward the marina. For a second, I caught the softness she rarely let anyone see. Whatever was happening with Lee, it was more than a flirtation. Maybe even more than she realized.
“I promise, sleeping on that boat isn’t as glamorous as it sounds. Lee doesn’t even have a cabin on that thing, right?”
“I guess,” Vi said. “Take me home then, spoilsport.”
I dropped Anya and Drew off at their house first before driving into town. I watched as Vi opened her back door, waving from behind the glass as she locked up. Pointing the truck toward Clay’s, I drove the mile or so to his house, smiling like a fool.
We’d faced down Chaz and gotten out clean. Almost too clean. But that didn’t stop my stomach from curling when I replayed his scowl. The way Janine’s voice shook. The way Clay stepped in front of me without a second thought. I didn’t deserve him, but I was sure as hell going to try.
Maybe the night didn’t go perfectly, but it was entertaining. I’d texted Agent Harris to meet us for breakfast the next morning. The faster we shared what we learned, the faster he could get a warrant and help us put the drama with Chaz behind us.
I parked next to Clay’s truck, picking my way toward his front door. Clay sat on his front steps, hands clasped loosely between his knees. Waiting. Watching. His deep chocolate eyes drew me forward.
“You didn’t have to wait out here for me. It’s getting cold out.”
His lips pursed briefly. Like he was tempted to argue. “Lucifer, I’d wait until hell froze over.”
My fingers grazed his, our hands tangling as I tugged him to his feet, leading him toward his front door. He’d been more than patient with me tonight, putting himself on the line, all to protect me. The least I could do was take good care of him.
“C’mon, Hotshot. Let’s get inside so I can warm you up.”
He followed me inside, a half-smile tugging at his mouth. Maybe our night hadn’t gone perfectly, but the way he had my back made my chest tighten. Clay Robertson was a man worth fighting for.
***
Monday dawned drizzly. The misty rain made me want to hunker down beneath a blanket on the couch with Clay, not venture out for breakfast with Nick Harris.
He waved us over from a booth at the downtown diner, looking every bit the dapper boat captain. A thick tan cable sweater stretched across his broad shoulders, his neatly trimmed beard sharp against the healthy glow of his ebony skin in the gray morning light.
“Morning.” Nick extended a hand, grasping and releasing mine in a firm handshake. He and Clay clasped hands, and we slid into the booth across from him. Clay dropped a big palm over my knee, his calm presence reassuring.
Our waiter, Joe, approached our table, coffee pot in hand and filled our mugs.
“Bless you, Joe.”
He raised his carafe to his forehead in a caffeine salute. “Happy to help, Luce. What’ll you folks have this morning?”
Clay ordered the Migas, and I picked the cinnamon roll French toast. My stomach rumbled. It’d been a long time since dinner last night. Nick waved Joe off. “Nothing but coffee for me, thanks.”
Nick waited until the other man left before turning his focus on us, his dark eyes searching. “So. What have you got for me?”
Straight to business. Part of me approved. The other half of me needed more coffee to function. I took a long pull from my mug.
Clay and I had agreed that I’d tell our story. The more distance he maintained, the better. Private citizens had a lot more leeway. If we emphasized his involvement, the judge might balk at granting Agent Harris a warrant.
“I’m friendly with Janine, the assistant at Island Muse.
I reached out to her to confirm my suspicions about Chaz and the gallery, and she invited me inside with her to help ease my fears.
” I opened my eyes wide, projecting innocence.
“Since I do business with Chaz, I wanted to be sure he was on the up and up.”
“Right…” Nick drew the word out. He didn’t seem to believe me, but he didn’t have to. So long as no one disputed my version of events, we’d be safe.
Janine certainly wasn’t going to provide a different story. She’d texted me when she boarded the ferry for the mainland, headed to Bellingham to live with her parents while she figured out what was next.
Clay squeezed my knee beneath the table.
That silent sign of support made me sit a bit straighter.
Feel stronger. “I happened to see that there were some discrepancies with another artist Chaz works with – A.A.” I unlocked my phone and slid it across the table.
“I took a few photos of invoices that appeared to sell the same piece twice.”
Nick tugged at his bottom lip. Slowly, he swiped through the photos, brows slowly rising. “Interesting.”
“I felt it was my duty as a concerned citizen to report this as potential fraud.”
He eyed me across the table. “And you’re willing to sign a statement to this effect.”
Slowly, I nodded. There were too many dots that didn’t connect.
Curious as I was, I wasn’t law enforcement.
Giving what we’d learned to Agent Harris was our only move, unless we wanted to involve Sheriff Walker.
And I doubted he had the resources to ferret out art fraud, or whatever Chaz had been up to with Jordan Dawkins.
Slowly, a smile spread across Nick’s face, transforming the stern man into something altogether charming.
“I’ll write up my report and help prepare a statement for your signature.
” He dipped his chin. “Thanks for your cooperation, Ms. Millen.” His gaze shifted to Clay.
“What about you? What’s your role in all this? ”
“Arm candy,” I blurted out. No way I wanted Clay’s name on any official reports. Nothing that could come back to haunt him later. The less I mentioned his involvement, the better. His hand tightened on my knee.
Clay lifted a shoulder, smiling wryly. “Best-looking backup she could find.”
Nick’s booming laugh made heads turn, but it broke the tension.
Joe dropped off our breakfasts, and I dug in, slicing my French toast with ruthless efficiency. I was starving .
Clay speared half a slice, scooping it onto his plate.
“Hey! Living together does not mean you have fifty-percent custody of my French toast,” I cried, stabbing my fork into the pilfered piece.
“What about if I share half of my Migas?”
Nick watched us over the rim of his mug, eyes twinkling, as I bargained for my share of Clay’s breakfast without giving up all of mine. I couldn’t let him think that, just because I loved him, all the fight had gone out of me.
“Boundaries are healthy,” I mumbled, swallowing, then grinned. “Just ask your therapist.”
Nick’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. “She’s got you there,” he said, admiration in the curve of his mouth.
Clay puffed up beside me. “She has me, always,” he corrected.
Nick waved off our offer to pay, confirming he’d be in touch for my official statement and slipping out of the diner.
Clay walked me home after breakfast. We turned the corner toward Glass House—and stopped short. It was still early. Most of the other businesses on my street were still closed, which might explain how the slogan sprayed across the Glass House front window had escaped notice.
CURIOSITY HAS CONSEQUENCES
The word choice narrowed the suspect pool.
Clay’s hand tightened around mine. “You’d think he’d at least go with something basic. I mean, ‘stop digging’ was right there . Do you have cameras?”
I snapped a quick picture of the message before swiping a finger across the bright red missive. Dry. Whoever sprayed this, it was a while ago.
“That one,” I pointed to the camera above Glass House’s front door, “is a fake. Just for show.” I swung my finger to an intricate starburst sculpture in my front window. “But that one’s real.”
“Do you want the Sheriff’s Office or Nick?”
“Nick,” I said. “Sheriff Walker will have questions about why someone’s harassing me.”
I texted Nick the photo of the damage to the outside of the shop and unlocked my front door, careful not to touch anything. Clay prowled the aisles, inspecting my work area.
“Nothing seems amiss inside.”
Slowly, my shoulders unclenched. Paint was annoying, but damage to my annealer would have been disastrous. It took me a few moments to retrieve the hidden camera footage from last night. Clay and I scrolled through the frames.
A figure in a black hoodie approached Glass House’s front window. Two minutes later, they disappeared, shoulders hunched. But not without leaving their mark. The video was too grainy to get a good screen grab of the vandal’s identity, but Clay’s grim frown confirmed my suspicions.
“It’s the right height and body type for Chaz, even if you can’t clearly see his face.”
“Yep.” A shiver ran down my spine.
Clay dropped his hand to the small of my back, rubbing in small circles. “I think we should pack your things and get you moved into my place like yesterday. I don’t want you living here alone. Not after today.”
Slowly, I nodded. Agent Harris’s warrant couldn’t come fast enough for me. Chaz needed bigger things to worry about than me.
My phone pinged.
Agent Harris: Island Muse didn’t open today. A car matching the description of Chaz’s boarded the ferry this morning. He may be in the wind.
I stared at the screen a moment before showing it to Clay.
“Good. Let him run. He won’t come near you again. Not while I’m breathing.”
It wasn’t just the promise in Clay’s voice; it was the calm certainty, the absolute belief I was worth protecting. Even when I dragged him into mess after mess. God help me, I loved him more for it.
I’d done what I could. Turned over the evidence. Protected what mattered. And if Chaz tried to come for me again, I wouldn’t be alone.