Chapter Six
“KENNEDY.” ZOEY REPEATEDher cousin’s name with a catch in her throat.
“Right.” He visibly swallowed. He seemed to find that thought as disconcerting as she did. After all, Kennedy was his sister-in-law.
“Please forgive me for asking, but this is important. No angry ex-boyfriends? No disgruntled coworkers?” He leaned forward.
“No.” She shook her head, a bitter taste in her mouth. She didn’t want to discuss her pathetic love life with a guy she found attractive. But like one had to reveal disease symptoms to the doctors, one had to reveal their past story to a private investigator. “For years, I’ve been working alone doing graphic design as well as my arts and crafts. So no disgruntled coworkers.”
“Or maybe ex-boyfriends who were upset that you broke up with them? Or that you were leaving Lazoria, even for a short time, and leaving them behind?”
“I haven’t dated in a long time. I only had two ex-boyfriends in my life, and both live in Lazoria. I’m sure their alibis can be verified because one can’t fly across the ocean that fast. Both of them broke up with me and moved on fast a long time ago. None had any angry outbursts.” She suppressed a grimace. Did she sound pathetic?
The long look he gave her unnerved her and... excited her at the same time. “Let’s look at it from a different angle. Currently, Kennedy is working on buying another hotel, and some other parties are interested. As you hold an equal part ownership in the family business now, what was your opinion about that purchase?”
A bitter taste flooded her mouth, and she flushed it down with more sparkling water, then helped herself to a sandwich with some fancy meat. “I know little about this business. So I just support my cousin in whatever she decides.” Then the sandwich stopped halfway to her mouth. “Someone close to me told me people can be influenced through someone they love. I don’t want to claim Kennedy loves me—we haven’t seen each other in so long we’re practically strangers now. But if... if something happened to me, I imagine she’d be upset.”
“Do you think someone might be trying to manipulate Kennedy by threatening you?”
“I could be considered an easier target.” Zoey chewed on the sandwich without sensing much taste.
His blue eyes softening, he leaned forward, and she almost thought he’d take her hand. But that didn’t happen, and disappointment jolted through her.
A ridiculous urge to be comforted—by him—stirred her. Okay, the desire to be comforted wasn’t so ridiculous. Nobody liked being nearly run over, and nobody wanted a target on their back. What was ridiculous was that she wanted this man to take her hand, to hug her.
But it couldn’t happen.
To add to her trust issues and sad history with men, now he was her bodyguard and private investigator. Even if she decided to open her heart again—which she hadn’t—the relationship between them had to remain strictly professional. More disappointment clenched her stomach.
She couldn’t let him see the longing in her eyes, so she lowered her gaze, and it landed on his hands. She liked it that his palms were wide, and considering he worked on the land, she imagined they’d be callused to the touch.... Her heart skipped a bit.
Argh.
He was saying something, and she wasn’t paying attention. Her attraction already affected her too much. Paying attention could make the difference between life and death now.
Maybe her mother had a point. It was better to stay hidden, to live a secluded life. Thoughts about her mother churned her stomach. Her insides went aswirl with betrayal, compassion, and disbelief, mingled with guilt that she hadn’t been able to bring herself to visit her mother in jail. Again, she pushed such thoughts deep into a corner of her mind to be able to function.
“Could you repeat that, please?” she asked.
He sent her a curious glance. He probably thought she was an airhead who didn’t take the situation seriously. “Two people are currently interested in the same projects Kennedy is targeting, Gerald Fowler and Zachary Reed. Both are heads of large corporations, and both are used to getting their way. The curious part is Gerald Fowler used to be friends with your father. But they had a rift after your father got a project Gerald wanted.”
Her fingers wrapped around the goblet’s smooth stem, but her throat tightened as if someone’s hands wrapped around her neck in the same way and squeezed. She put down the glass before she could break it. She imagined her neck would be just as easy to break. She was so out of her depth here, both in the corporate world and the crime world. Should she just return to the relative safety—and loneliness—of her flat in Lazoria?
Oddly, a significant part of her wanted to stay longer. A sting of guilt followed her surprise since her reason wasn’t her father or cousin. The reason she wanted to stay was sitting and breathing right in front of her, tempting and forbidden.
And clearly unsuspecting of her inner turmoil as he continued in an even, entirely professional voice. “So I believe we should pay extra attention to Mr. Fowler. I looked up the history of both men and found something suspicious, though nothing was proven. Two years ago, Gerald Fowler was interested in purchasing land to build a spa center in an up-and-coming tourist location with growing popularity. The owner of the land didn’t want to sell. A week later, the landowner’s daughter suffered a skiing accident.”
Zoey’s insides went cold. She reached for the lukewarm tea and took a few sips, wishing she could warm up in Barrett’s embrace instead. “I imagine the sale went through fast after that?”
His jaw set tight. “You’re right.”
She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. So she placed the empty cup back on the tray—platinum, right?—and wrapped the soft shawl she’d knit around her shoulders to ward off another chill, trying her best not to wish the shawl was Barrett’s arms instead. “What you’re implying—Wouldn’t that be too risky for Gerald? Not to mention criminal?”
“In too many cases I’ve investigated, the perpetrators believed they could cover their tracks well enough to get away with the crime.”
She nodded slowly. She’d lived with such a person nearly her entire life and hadn’t suspected a thing. “Like fresh snow would cover ski tracks. Still, it could be a coincidence. Or are there other cases like that?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
“Sadly, yes.”
“Seriously?” She let her mouth gape—the best way to resist the urge to clench her teeth. She’d thought the biggest issue she’d find here was reconnecting with strangers who were her family and maybe which fork to use at a fancy dinner. Instead... “I don’t want to complain, to sound like a poor rich girl. But I feel like I jumped into dark waters infested with crocodiles while wearing a blindfold.” She grimaced. “I mean, I’m the one wearing the blindfold, not the crocodiles.”
“I’ll do my best to help you.” Something flashed in his blue eyes, but then his expression returned to his all-professional mode again. “Three years ago, the son of one of Gerald’s competitors also suffered when his horse bolted and threw him. The competitor withdrew from the deal after that. Of course, Gerald’s connection to the incident was never proven.”
“Of course. But again, those victims—both from the horseback riding accident and the skiing accident—stayed alive, right?” She hoped.
“Yes.”
This was sadly not the case here. “Maybe the person who, um, performed the task to harm me...” She searched for the right word and didn’t find it. “Overreacted to finding out they got the wrong person? Once they saw Nora’s face?” She frowned. Overreacted seemed such a wrong word for a murder.
“That’s a possibility. Of course, Gerald had an ironclad alibi for any time the... incidents occurred. But nobody would expect him to do... to do those things himself.” He seemed to choose words easier for her to digest.
Did he think that, while the strong-willed and determined Kennedy seemed to be made of, um, platinum, Zoey was as fragile as the crystal in front of her? The thought didn’t sit well.
“I can’t imagine doing the job you do. I just saw one...” She searched for the word again because she didn’t want to say the other one aloud, either. “One unalive body, and I have nightmares. I can only imagine the gruesome things you’ve seen in your life.”
He shifted closer to her, then again moved back as if realizing something. There was an invisible wall between them now, like a force field in sci-fi movies. “I can’t say I’ve gotten used to seeing certain things. But I do my best to concentrate on the results. Be it finding lifesaving answers for people or making them feel safer or seeking justice for them.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” she blurted out. Uh-oh. “Please don’t think I’m flirting with you.” She wouldn’t know how to flirt if it hit her on the head—maybe not the best comparison. “I meant, I’m glad you took my case.”
Again, something unreadable flashed in those baby blues. “Don’t worry. I didn’t think you were flirting. And I’m glad I’m here, as well.” He cleared his throat. “And hopefully, I can help you and bring justice for Nora and her sister.”
Concealing his emotions must be part of his profession, as well as being able to read other people’s emotions and know when they told the truth. He knew how to read people while she didn’t. Warmth rose inside her as his gaze perused her. Could he guess her attraction to him?
He’d better not. Besides the many personal reasons to keep it to herself, he might drop her case. Kennedy had said he was very much in demand.
“Is that why a guy like you is still single? Because you dedicate all your time to work?” Her hand flew to her mouth. She wasn’t a secretive person, but usually, she wasn’t this straightforward.
Her mother had shielded her from the world—or rather hidden her from it—so much so that Zoey’s communication skills left a lot to be desired. Her communication skills with men were nonexistent.
The corners of his lips kicked up. “A guy like me?”
More warmth heated her insides and singed her cheeks. She concentrated on the sandwich with its fancy meats and nibbled one corner. “Well, you know, attractive, hardworking, responsible...”
“So you find me attractive, huh?” His smile widened.
She’d welcome that smile if it wasn’t at her expense. She took another bite as she studied her sandwich, all in an effort not to look at him. “I also said hardworking and reliable. Responsible, I mean.” She’d better stop. Her temperature kicked up another notch. By now, she’d most likely turned the color of the hibiscus on the oil painting in Kennedy’s office. “I, um, I heard great things about you.”
“I’m grateful.” Then his expression sobered up. “My work does take up a lot of time, and the hours are irregular. I spend many nights on stakeouts, and sometimes cases consume me completely. I can’t imagine it being good for married life. I did date from time to time throughout the years. The women often expressed disappointment at how much attention I gave to my job. After a few broken relationships, I decided to avoid them altogether.”
“Thank you for your honesty. So you’ve never, um, lost your heart?” Her hand flew to her mouth. Why did she keep pushing? Simple. Because she desperately wanted to know.
“I did. Once. When I was just starting out as a PI”—he swallowed hard as if reluctant to say it—“to a client.” His eyes darkened. “I nearly ruined my career before it even started. And it turned out, she was just playing with my emotions. I’ll never repeat that mistake.”
Ouch. She got her message loud and crystal clear, like the goblet on the coffee table. She pursed her lips.
Well, she’d have to keep her feelings in check. She’d done a good job of it for decades, so it couldn’t be so difficult, right?
Besides, she had much more important tasks on her hands, like staying alive, figuring out the family who were strangers to her, and keeping her business afloat from the opposite side of the world. Should keep her plenty busy until it was time to return home.
She tried to suppress an unwelcome wistfulness that just didn’t want to go away. “Understood.”
Was it regret that shadowed his eyes now? Once again, the expression disappeared before she could decipher it. Not that she was good at deciphering expressions, anyway. On the contrary, Kennedy was probably a master of it. Envy stabbed her. She didn’t want to feel less-than when compared to her successful, accomplished cousin.
The sound of a motor made Zoey tense. Barrett jumped to his feet. Kennedy and Zoey had given him access to the security cameras and the alarm system, so he checked something on his phone. “It’s Kennedy. She just parked outside.”
“Thanks.” Zoey got up and went to the door. Her heart squeezed a little that their time alone was over already.
Though Kennedy still had the key to the mansion, she was tactful enough to ring the bell and wait to be let in. Despite her quiet demeanor, her commandeering presence, so like Zoey’s father, dominated this or any other room as she entered. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But I have some news. It might be useful.” Kennedy pursed lips shiny with pearl lipstick. “And alarming.”
“Hi, cuz.” Zoey waved at the chair, though it was weird playing a hostess in Kennedy’s own house. But then, didn’t Zoey start playing a hostess in the life her cousin had worked so hard to build? “What happened?”
“I had a phone conversation with Gerald. It was mostly about the current project we’re both interested in. He told me I should pass on it. I told him I’m not backing off and he’d just have to submit a better offer than I did if he wants the properties. Not easy to do because when I’m going for something, I’m going for the win. Then he changed the conversation. He said it was so tragic about the young girl found in the cove—that, according to his sources, my newly arrived cousin was the real target.”
“He might’ve been fishing for information.” Though a shiver traveled down her spine, Zoey latched on the most logical yet nonthreatening explanation.
Kennedy’s eyes narrowed, and she stepped closer, giving Zoey a whiff of her subtle, expensive perfume. “Then he said he hoped I was keeping my cousin safe from harm. I heard his veiled threat.”