Chapter 2 Arrow #2
But it’s the backpack slung over both shoulders that makes her look like a college kid.
Maybe it’s just what she uses as a purse, but the way she’s ducking her shoulders means either that backpack is really freaking heavy or she’s trying to hide or make herself harder to see.
It would be impossible to miss a woman who looks like that, so I’m guessing she’s loaded down with textbooks or something.
But why exactly she’s standing in my office is the bigger question.
“Are you looking for a PI?” I ask on a frown.
As pretty as she is to look at, I need to make a few calls to my buddies at a couple of insurance companies that hire me for surveillance.
It’s been a while since I had any corporate work, and unfortunately, part of this job is networking.
If I’m lucky, I’ll score a suspected workers’ comp fraud case this week.
Just one of those would keep the lights on for… fuck. At least a little while longer.
The woman doesn’t answer my question but shuffles from flip-flop to flip-flop.
I head toward my office and wave for her to follow me. “Why don’t you have a seat? Tell me how I can help.”
She glances nervously toward the door, as if she’s afraid to trust me. I’ve learned a lot about body language in my years as a bond agent and even more since I’ve been working as a private investigator. Whatever’s brought the girl in here, she’s genuinely uncomfortable.
“Why don’t we talk out here?” I motion toward the never-used guest chair in front of the reception desk.
There’s really no need for us to meet in my office.
It’s all the same anyway. There’s nothing on my desk but an underused laptop.
Out here, there’s a big, blocky desk calendar that’s four months out of date.
I never meet with people out here, so while the girl pulls out a chair and sits across from me, I tear off the sheets and crumple them up, then stuff them in the empty bin beside the desk.
With that done, I lean back in the seat and look through the empty desk drawers for a pen. Shit, there’s nothing in here. Instead of taking notes or completing an intake form, I’ll have to sit here and just listen, which is probably going to make her feel even more awkward.
“Let me grab a pen,” I say, jumping up from behind the desk.
“You want a water or something?” Her obvious discomfort is starting to make me feel sweaty, so I pop open the tiny fridge beside my desk and grab two bottles of cold water.
Then I snag a pen from the top of my desk and an unused pad of lined paper.
When I head back into the tiny lobby space, the blond woman is squinting at me, twisting around in her seat to look me over. She’s still got the backpack over her shoulders and has her ass perched on the edge of the chair like any minute she might change her mind and run out of here.
“Here you go,” I say, setting the water bottle on the desk in front of her. I drop the notepad on my side of the desk, tuck the pen behind my ear, uncap my water, and take a big swallow.
Much better.
When I sit back down, she still hasn’t said anything, so I give her a look. “So, you know I’m a private investigator, right? Are you looking to hire someone?”
She glances back at the door as if checking the sign to be sure she’s in the right place. “What about security?” she asks. “Do you also offer security services?”
I take another quick swig of ice-cold water and nod. “Yeah, I do.” I narrow my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. “Why don’t we start with the basics? I’m Josh, but people call me Arrow. And your name is?”
She looks at my crossed arms, then extends her hand. “Anne Hancock, but people call me Annie.”
I can see that the white polish on the hand she holds out to me is far from fresh. The chips left on her nails look old, like she hasn’t had them done in weeks.
She’s waiting for me to shake her hand, but the pale blue of her eyes is so unusual, so stunning against her tanned skin, I feel a buzz of attraction all the way down to my balls.
Touching her may not be the best idea, but I can’t exactly refuse to shake the woman’s hand.
I clasp her hand quickly and then release.
“Nice to meet you, Annie,” I say. “What brings you in today?” I try to sound a little more formal, taking a professional approach with my brain while my body is having a far less professional reaction to Annie Hancock.
What she says next, though, shifts the mood in the room immediately. “I…I think I am in some kind of trouble. But I’m not sure.”
“You think you’re in trouble?” I echo, scribbling absolute nonsense on my legal pad, just to give me something to focus on that’s not the long lines of Annie Hancock’s neck. “So, what’s going on?”
She swallows hard, and I see her look at the bottle of water like it might be poisoned.
She picks it up carefully and gently twists the cap, not strong enough to break the safety seal, though.
She’s tugging it just lightly enough to ensure that the water is, in fact, sealed and hasn’t been tampered with.
Something deep in my gut reacts immediately.
Whatever is going on for this girl, she’s afraid.
She’s hyperaware of her surroundings. Checking that a bottle of water hasn’t been tampered with.
While I wasn’t too concerned that Ms. Mangione’s dog walker was really trying to poison her with cheesecake, whatever is going on with Annie Hancock feels real and serious.
I don’t know this woman, but I want to know just what happened to make her so terrified for her safety that she’s checking the caps on bottled water.
“Let’s cut to it,” I say gruffly, anxious to get to her story. “Did something happen? Do you think you’re in danger?”
She presses her full lips together and looks down at her hands. She’s fiddling with the cap on the water bottle, but she hasn’t taken a sip yet. Suddenly, I’m worried, angry, and almost out of patience.
“Look,” I say, lifting my brows and pointing at the water.
“You’re safe with me, Annie. I haven’t tampered with the water bottle.
I’ll pour some into a cup and drink it myself if it’ll make you feel better.
Now, if you’re thirsty, go ahead and take a sip so you can get on with it.
Because unless I know nothing about reading people, you’re scared shitless about something.
Something big enough to bring you into my office.
And I’d really like to figure out if I can do anything to help you. ”
A flush blooms like a cloud from her perfect cleavage up along her collarbone. She lowers her eyes and sighs. “You’re not like the others,” she murmurs, a slight smile lightening her dark expression.
“The others?” I ask.
She nods. “You’re the third stop I’ve made today. The other investigators weren’t so caring.”
Well, that’s a first. Even when I do my job and catch the cheating spouses in the act or grab evidence that can help an insurance carrier deny a fraudulent claim, I’m not often given a warm handshake and a hearty thank-you.
I’ve been called every insult in the book at least a hundred times, and usually the insults are smothered in curses.
As I look over Annie, I can only imagine what the other PIs put her through.
“Lemme guess,” I say, snorting air and trying not to swear.
“They didn’t ask any questions but wanted an up-front deposit for their time, plus expenses.
That, or they tried to hit on you and told you it was all in your head. ”
She looks me in the eye, strength in her gaze. “Yeah. You’re exactly right. But you seem…different.”
I may not have earned her trust yet, but after she says the words, she takes a long sip of water. I watch the tiny hairs on her arms lift up and her nipples peak hard against her tank.
“So,” I say roughly, clearing my throat and tearing my eyes from her cleavage. “I’m here to listen. Maybe even help. What’s the problem? Jealous boyfriend? Roommate trouble?”
She sets the water down and scoots the chair a little closer to the desk. “No, no, nothing like that. I think…” She smooths her hands along her hair. The stray loose strands stick in place, giving me a perfect view of her face as she says, “I think maybe someone wants to blackmail me.”
After years of working with people from the darkest corners, I am hardly surprised by much.
But I am skeptical. I’ve managed to stay in business because people do shady, shady shit.
They steal from one another, they lie… Even blood.
Families turn on one another for the stupidest fucking reasons.
But so far, all I have is a scared-looking woman and a name.
I’m going to need a hell of a lot more to know whether I’m talking to a client or wasting my time.
“So, tell me,” I press. “Do you have enemies? Somebody you crossed?”
She shakes her head. “That’s just the thing. My life is boring. I don’t know why anyone would want to do this to me.” She bites down on her lower lip, as if she’s hesitating to tell me the whole story.
“Do what to you, Annie?” I ask. “Look, I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.
Even if you do tell me everything, this might be a police matter.
But you’ve got to give me details. Even if it’s uncomfortable.
You wouldn’t be the first person to send pictures of an intimate nature to someone and later regret it. Am I right? Is it something like that?”
To my shock, she laughs. A light, free-sounding laugh that brightens her entire face. “God, no.” She shakes her head. “My father is a lawyer, and I’m twenty-five, Mr. Arrow. I know better than to send naked pictures of myself to people I date.”
The thought of her posing for pictures like that brings another blast of very unprofessional feelings, so I picture pouring that bottle of ice water over my head and cooling myself the fuck off. “Okay, great,” I say. “So, what details can you share about what’s going on?”