Chapter 20
TWENTY
Wednesday morning brought another self-defense session, which ended much the same way the first one had: with Lucy flat on her back, naked, raking her nails across Cormac’s shoulders.
She didn’t have many defenses against him .
After she’d showered and dressed, Cormac presented her with a blazer. “Put this on before we go,” he told her.
Lucy frowned. “Why?”
“It’s one of my bulletproof blazers. Put it on.”
She blinked. “It’s what, now?”
“The fabric uses carbon nanotubes that’s half the weight of Kevlar, but it can still block the impact of a bullet. They take a couple months to get made bespoke, so you’ll wear mine. We’ll get your measurements taken to get you one of your own, but this will do for now.”
Lucy stared at the garment, then at Cormac. “Carbon nanotubes,” she repeated, trying to make the words make sense.
Cormac held up the jacket and nodded patiently. “If someone shoots at you and hits this blazer, it’ll hurt but the bullet won’t go through.”
Lucy took the blazer from him, feeling the fabric between her fingers. It felt like normal fabric, maybe a smidge heavier than she expected. “You think Aaron is going to shoot me?” Her voice squeaked at the end of her question, throat constricting on the last word.
“He made your car blow up. Or at least got one of his friends to do it for him.”
Lucy’s shoulders dropped. “Okay.”
“You’ll wear it?”
“Sure.”
Cormac released a breath. His hands came up to Lucy’s cheeks, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you.”
She slipped the blazer on. It was huge, so she rolled up the sleeves and looked up at Cormac, feeling like a small child trying on her parents’ clothes, if her parents had been the type to own bulletproof anything. But Cormac looked satisfied, so she left it on. He straightened one of the lapels, studying her critically, and a warm glow burned in Lucy’s chest. No one had ever cared about her safety quite this much.
It was vitally important, she realized, that he be assured of her safety. She’d been allowed into his inner circle, or maybe she’d crashed her way through and demanded to be let in. It was a gift she wouldn’t give up, not for anything.
They went down to the basement parking lot and got in Cormac’s SUV.
When he drove out through the gate, he said, “Let’s go through it again. From the start. What was the very first interaction you had with Phillips?”
Lucy scanned the street as they drove, half-expecting bullets to start flying. She clutched the blazer closed at her neck and felt ridiculous. When no bullets whizzed past, she answered his question. “It was nearly three years ago,” she started. “I went to his store to feel the weights of different papers so I could get an idea of what they felt like and how much I should charge. He was behind the counter, and he asked me if I needed help. We talked about cardstock, cotton versus linen, different inks. He was helpful.”
“You told him you designed wedding stationery?”
Lucy frowned. “Yeah. Thinking about it now, he did have a weird reaction.”
“What did he say?”
“It wasn’t really what he said, it was the look he gave me. Kind of like he was seeing me in a new light.” She gulped, remembering the slimy feeling that had dribbled down her spine. “I left pretty soon after that.”
“Can you remember what you were talking about when he gave you the weird look?”
“It was three years ago, Cormac. I don’t know, exactly. I probably told him I’d studied graphic design and was excited to start my own business. I said I was learning a lot by talking to him and thanked him for his time.”
“What did he react strangely to? Which words?”
Tightness banded around Lucy’s chest. She shrugged, frustrated. “I don’t know! We were talking about the benefits of linen vs. cotton for paper. I said I liked blends of cotton and linen rag, because you got the durability and texture of linen without the high price tag. We were talking about paper . Who gets weird about paper?”
Lucy grimaced. She knew who got weird about paper: people who used it to make counterfeit money.
“And that’s when he started bothering you?”
“It was a few weeks later, but yeah. A package got stolen from the back of my car. A couple of weird reviews popped up on my online store.”
“What did they say?”
“I don’t remember, exactly. I just knew that they weren’t from real clients. They said things like, ‘Invitations Etc. provides low-quality product for an inflated price.’ Just generic bad reviews with one star. I’d reply to the review trying to be polite and professional, telling them to email me with their order number so I could rectify things, and the review would disappear. It happened maybe half a dozen times, and then it stopped. I don’t know if it was him. It could have been anyone.”
“Okay,” Cormac said, turning onto Main Street so he could cross town to where the print shop was.
They clattered onto the bridge. Lucy stared at the water as they came to a stop behind a big truck trying to change lanes at the last minute so it wouldn’t miss its turn. The bridge vibrated slightly, and Lucy watched the river rush below. “The only other time I really spoke to him was right after Amelia’s wedding. All that crazy stuff was happening with Camilla’s bakery getting broken into, and I ended up having to go to his shop again because I needed a specific type of paper for a rush order. He recognized me right away, even though he pretended not to. He was kind of rude, half ignoring me, half barking at me.”
“What happened?”
“I just bought the paper and paid for it. At the till, I tried to make polite conversation, and he just sneered at me.”
“What did you say?”
“I said what everyone was saying! I said, ‘Did you hear what happened at Frank Goodhew’s company retreat?’ and all he said was, ‘What’s that got to do with you?’ and I was sort of taken aback, and I said, ‘Nothing. I just hadn’t realized there was a dark underbelly in Stirling.’ He looked at me funny, but I’d already paid, so I left.”
She lapsed into silence, but there’d been something on her mind, and she had to speak to Cormac about it. “Do you think he thought I was doing forgeries too? That’s what he meant by his turf? It wasn’t wedding stationery at all?”
Cormac didn’t even hesitate. “Yes,” he said. “Somehow, he got it in his head that you were trying to get a cut of his business.”
The air whooshed out of Lucy’s lungs. Her head spun. She focused on the car in front of them as they drove, trying to get her thoughts in order. “How long have you suspected it?”
“Since we found the bill.”
“And you didn’t say anything?”
“There’s no real evidence, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. Why else would he blow up your car, if not to make a statement? The underbelly comment is telling. He must have thought you were sniffing around his shop, trying to threaten him.”
“But… why ? I literally spent ten minutes talking about quality of ink for gold lettering. I showed him the design I was working on for a save-the-date card. And the time before that we talked about paper, for crying out loud. I was a complete stationery nerd!”
“Counterfeiters need to know those details too,” Cormac noted. “Inks, papers, watermarks. A good forgery is all in the details. What kind of paper is money made from?”
Lucy turned to stare at him. Heart thumping, she pulled out her phone and asked the internet. “‘A special blend of cotton and linen rag,’” she read.
Cormac let out a long breath.
“Lots of paper is made from cotton and linen,” Lucy protested. “He can’t have taken that one comment completely out of context. Could he?”
“I don’t know,” Cormac answered grimly.
A weight pressed down on Lucy’s shoulders. Sighing, she leaned back against the headrest and watched Stirling go by. It was a beautiful Wednesday in late spring, and the sun was shining, the town in full bloom. They’d made it past the bridge and were crossing toward the commercial center of town. Baskets of flowers hung from curlicued light posts. People milled along the shopfronts, smiling, buying coffees, meeting friends.
And behind the veneer, vermin like Aaron Phillips used this wonderful town to line their pockets. Amelia had experienced something similar when she and Leo had exposed the thief at his company retreat. Camilla had had a brush with the criminal element in town when she’d tried to get out from under a loan shark’s thumb. And now, Lucy was getting a taste of it too.
Stirling wasn’t as shiny and clean as it appeared.
“So Aaron Phillips meets me, misconstrues what I say about paper, and decides I’m making fake money. He’s threatened. He starts a terror campaign that’s frankly pretty mild, until me going to the Wedding Expo last year sets him off. He becomes irate. When I decide to go to the Expo again, he blows up my car in an attempt to intimidate me and, in the process, exposes his own criminal enterprise. Have I got that right?”
Cormac nodded and turned down the street where the print shop was. “Something about the Wedding Expo was significant.”
They parked in front of the shop, and Cormac cut the engine. He scanned the surroundings, told Lucy to stay in the car, and then got out and swept his gaze up and down the street. Lucy watched him, grateful he was here. She’d have no idea how to deal with any of this if she were on her own.
Cormac opened her door and shielded her while they shuffled the few feet to the print shop door.
“What’s the point of a bulletproof blazer if you’re going to stand behind me? My blazer is more bulletproof than your body, Cormac.”
He ignored her, opening the door to let her in. Lucy went inside and crossed to the counter while Cormac watched the door. They waited at the shop while her samples were printed. She inspected them, satisfied, and then she paid for the prints and was bundled back to the car.
They were all the way across town again and Lucy was beginning to relax when the phone rang through the car’s system.
Cormac glanced at the screen on the console. “Elton,” he said after answering.
“Boss. I found the car those two thugs were driving.”
Cormac flicked his gaze to Lucy, who folded her arms and bared her teeth at him. “Don’t you dare drop me off and go fight monsters on my behalf.”
“Hi, Lucy,” Elton said.
“Hi, Elton. Where’s the car?”
“Little hunting lodge east of town,” Elton replied. “I’ll send you the address.”
“How’d you find it?” Lucy asked, amazed.
“I have friends in high places,” Elton replied.
“Chrissie asked you to help review CCTV footage, didn’t she?” Cormac said, indicated to change lanes, and headed away from the freeway.
“It’s not my fault our police department doesn’t have an IT division. I just wrote a little script for them, is all. Doing my civic duty to speed up the process so we could get computers to do the work for us. If I happened to get some information out of the bargain, it’s only fair.”
“Good work.” Cormac hung up the call.
Lucy shifted to look at him. At first glance, he looked relaxed. His fingers drummed gently on the edge of the steering wheel, his elbow resting on the window frame. But Lucy could see the calculation in his eyes, the way his breathing deepened and slowed.
Cormac wasn’t relaxed. He was battle-ready.
“You’re going the wrong way,” Lucy pointed out when he turned down the street that led to his building.
“I’m taking you home.”
“To go do what?” she asked.
“Recon.”
“Cormac,” Lucy growled, which wasn’t very impressive, even to her ears. “I’m not going to hide in your apartment while you go face the man who tried to kill me.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You need to finish your pitch.”
“It’s nearly done,” Lucy informed him. “The samples look great, and now I just need to practice. I won’t be able to do that if I’m worried about you.”
Cormac pulled into the underground parking lot and slid into his spot. He cut the engine and looked at her. “I need to keep you safe,” he said, and that battle-readiness in his gaze eased slightly, so Lucy could see the fear that lurked there.
She put her hand on his forearm. “Cormac,” she said gently, “you’ve been keeping me safe all week. I can’t go hide in your apartment, not knowing what’s happening to you. Let me help. I’m the one who got you in this mess in the first place.”
Cormac’s jaw clenched, but he turned the key in the ignition and backed out of his spot. They drove onto the freeway and out of town, turning off on a smaller road when they’d gotten a couple miles out of Stirling. The landscape was hilly, wooded, and dotted with farms and a few small clusters of houses.
They drove past a red barn and a horse looked up to watch them pass. Then they were in the trees again, snaking up a gentle incline that took them deeper into the forest.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t wait for the police for this?” Lucy asked.
Cormac huffed. “What are they going to do?”
“Um, arrest the bad guys?”
Cormac didn’t answer. Lucy thought about what he’d told her, how the authorities had let him down when he was younger. The police hadn’t been there to catch the bad guys when Cormac was a kid, and he probably thought he had to deal with everything himself.
“What’s the plan?”
Cormac let out a long breath. “We have a look around, set up a camera so Elton can keep an eye on them.”
“You have one?”
He nodded. “I keep spare sets of gear in the back.”
“Oh.” Lucy nodded, even though she wasn’t quite sure what “gear” meant, exactly.
They drove past the address that Elton had sent them and turned off on a gravel road a couple of miles farther on. Cormac parked the car under the branches of a few pine trees and cut the engine. Then he went to the SUV’s trunk, opened it up, and unlocked a long black box made of steel. Lucy peered around the side of his arm to have a look.
The first thing she noticed was the gun. Cormac slid the weapon into a holster and clipped it onto his belt, then grabbed a black pack that had been rolled up neatly near the edge of the box. He dumped a bunch of stuff into the bag: a knife, some rope, some duct tape, a bag of zip ties, a case that looked like it had a camera in it, and binoculars, among other things. Lucy hoped the police didn’t stop by and search him, because that stuff sure would be hard to explain. Apparently a “catch the bad guys” bag looked a lot like a “serial killing kidnapper” bag.
Cormac slipped the straps onto his shoulders, face set into grim lines. Then he closed the box, shut the trunk, and turned to face her. His hand came up to touch her cheek, and then he bent down and brushed his lips against hers.
“I wish you’d stayed home,” he said quietly.
“I know, but I can’t. I need to fix this.”
“It scares me, how much I care about you.”
Lucy’s heart went soft at his words. They were spoken openly, his face stark. She went to her tiptoes and kissed him. “Let me help you,” she said quietly, “and then we’ll both go home.”
He sighed, then nodded. “The goal is to get the camera set up and working without being seen. Then we get out. Got it?”
“Copy that,” Lucy said, trying to sound competent and suspecting she fell short.
Cormac kissed her again, tenderly, then took a step back. His features turned remote as he faced the direction of the hunting lodge. His eyes scanned the trees and his body went still. He looked ready to pounce. The transformation was subtle but unmistakable, and it sent a little shiver of apprehension running down Lucy’s spine.
She had the distinct impression that she’d bitten off more than she could chew.
Cormac glanced at her, dipped his chin, and set off into the trees.