Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“Remind me why they’re doing this again,” Mason groused from the passenger seat.
Jaxon’s lips quirked up in a wry smile. “Because the client is always right.”
Mason huffed. “This is ridiculous.”
Jaxon lifted one shoulder. “Probably, but he wants proof, so they’re going to get him proof.”
Jaxon couldn’t imagine that Oliver Eldredge would have tried to move the statue just yet.
Things were still too hot, and Jaxon doubted he wanted anything coming back on him.
If the guy was even involved—and that was a big if.
From what they’d discovered, he appeared to be squeaky clean.
That didn’t mean that was the truth, but so far, there was no evidence to the contrary.
He’d been more than accommodating, and Jaxon was beginning to think that Richter was just salty about their past and still carrying a grudge.
Concealed in an alley diagonal from the back of the shop, Jaxon flicked a glance at the clock before returning his eyes to the back door.
Davenport was late. Only by a minute, but still.
Oliver’s white Mercedes sat in its designated slot outside the back door, so Jaxon knew he was still there.
Jaxon just prayed they wouldn’t miss their window of opportunity and have to do this all over again.
Jaxon wanted to get this over with and get home to Adalyn.
As if Jaxon’s thought had conjured the man, his black Maserati pulled into the lot.
“He’s here.”
Mason glanced up from the phone in his hands. “’Bout time.”
Seconds later, a voice crackled over the computer system as Davenport synced up his comm device. “You hear me okay?”
“10-4,” Jaxon responded, and then he turned his gaze to the computer on the console. “Ready when you are.”
A new window popped up as Davenport activated the microscopic camera to give them eyes inside the shop. The trident on the steering wheel came into view as he climbed out of the car.
He certainly looked nothing like the police officer Jaxon knew he’d once been.
Police lieutenant turned real estate mogul, Piers Davenport probably owned half the buildings in the city.
He dabbled in construction, as well, and had helped smooth the way for Vantage when Knox was first getting started.
His job today was to go in and scope out Oliver’s shop, see if he could dig up any information.
In his pristine suit, Davenport fit in much better than any of them ever would.
For a long while, all was quiet. Then, through the discreetly placed receiver, Jaxon heard a saleswoman greet him.
“Hello, sir. May I help you find something?”
“I’ll let you know when I find it.” His voice was aloof, almost self-righteous, and Jaxon rolled his eyes.
Silence descended again, and Davenport leisurely strolled the shop, examining its contents.
From what Jaxon understood, Oliver carried a variety of antiquities—everything from ancient artifacts to furniture he’d rescued and restored.
Jaxon hoped Davenport knew what he was doing.
Knox seemed to have faith in him, so Jaxon forced himself to do the same.
Beside Jaxon, Mason shifted and pulled his phone from his back pocket. He swiped a thumb over the screen, then grinned as an image popped up.
“Everything good?”
Mason redirected his gaze out the windshield, his face impassive as he laid his phone face down on his thigh. “Yep.”
Jaxon lifted a brow. “Is it serious?”
Mason’s phone vibrated, and his fingers flew over the screen. He sent the message, then clicked it off again. “Is what serious?”
“The girl you’re talking to.”
“Nah.”
And that, right there, told Jaxon just how much she meant to him. Twenty bucks said Mason fell into bed with the mystery woman an hour from now and wouldn’t surface until he had to report for work. A conspiratorial smile curved Jaxon’s mouth. “Fine, I’ll let you keep your secret.”
Mason lifted his middle finger in response but remained stony-faced, and Jaxon laughed. “Whatever, man. Have your fun.”
Davenport’s voice crackled through the comm unit. “I don’t believe you have quite what I’m looking for.”
What was he doing? Jaxon leaned forward in his seat, unsure exactly what he was going to do about it.
He couldn’t go barging in there, but this wasn’t part of the plan.
Mason shot Jaxon an alarmed look, and Jaxon opened his mouth to say something to Davenport when a second voice rang out, this one masculine.
“Perhaps I can help with something?”
Davenport turned, and Oliver came into view. Small and wiry, he looked even smaller in person than he had in his photos. Davenport waved a hand. “You have some nice pieces, but nothing feels quite right.”
The older man approached. “Perhaps if you told me what you’re looking for…?”
Jaxon held his breath during the beat of silence before Davenport spoke. “I was told I’d know it when I saw it.”
Oliver’s brows drew together. “Have we met?”
“Piers Davenport.”
Apparently that was all the introduction Oliver needed, because a smile wreathed his face as he accepted Davenport’s outstretched hand. “Ah, yes.” His brows drew together. “I thought your places leaned more toward the modern?”
Even Jaxon couldn’t miss the suspicion in the man’s tone, but Davenport seemed unaffected. “Modern lines are fine for the condos, but in my personal home, I’m looking for something a little more… traditional.”
Oliver’s smile flared back to life. “I see. Couldn’t agree with you more. Who likes all those stark spaces and steel structures?”
“So you understand my predicament.”
“I do. And do you know what you’re looking for?”
“Not precisely. Nothing feels quite… right.”
Oliver eyed him. “Perhaps if I know what you like, I may be able to procure something for you.”
Yes, Jaxon chanted silently. This was what they’d been waiting for. Even his vague implication had Jaxon ready to celebrate.
“Do you work with collectors?”
“I do,” Oliver responded hesitantly. “Sometimes it’s just a matter of how much it will take to convince them to part with something.”
Davenport chuckled. “As I’m sure you’re aware, that won’t be a problem.”
Jaxon rolled his head toward Mason and caught the grimace on his face. Mason threw Jaxon a disgusted look, and Jaxon couldn’t help but grin. He didn’t know if Davenport was as much of a prick as he seemed, but he did a great job acting like one.
Pushing Oliver any more would be a mistake, and Davenport instinctively seemed to pick up on it. He handed over his card. “Call me if anything else comes in.”
Davenport strode outside, then climbed into his sleek little car and took off with a rumble of the powerful engine.
Jaxon turned to Mason. “Let’s get outta here.”
Jaxon wanted to get home to his woman, and he knew Mason felt the same, even if he didn’t want to admit it.
Jaxon stopped off at Vantage to drop off Mason as well as their comm equipment. Though Jaxon knew the statue hadn’t been in Eldredge’s shop, he uploaded the file to his desktop and checked the recording one more time for good measure.
Once he was done, Jaxon headed toward Adalyn’s place.
He unlocked the door with the key she’d given him, then slipped inside.
Letting his eyes adjust for a second, he stepped out of his boots and quietly made his way to the back of the house.
Adalyn had left the light over the stove on, and it gave the room a soft, golden glow.
Disappointment hit Jaxon hard. She must be asleep.
He turned to go, and something caught his eye.
Curled up in a tiny ball at the end of the couch, Adalyn dozed, a worn paperback lying loose in her fingers as if she’d fallen asleep holding it.
The sight brought a smile to Jaxon’s face.
He lowered himself to one knee and carefully extracted the book from her hands.
A soft sigh left her lips, and her eyes fluttered several times before popping open.
Landing on Jaxon, they widened, and she bolted upright. “Jaxon!”
“Shh.” Jaxon ran a hand up the outside of her thigh. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to see you for a second before I headed out.”
“Oh.” Her face fell. “You can stay for a while if you’d like.”
Jaxon eyed her. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I was actually waiting for you.” She gestured to the book now lying beside her. “I thought I’d read for a bit, but I must’ve dozed off.”
Sliding his hands beneath her legs, Jaxon scooped her into his arms and sank down on the cushion, still warm from her body heat, then settled her in his lap. She brushed her nose over the base of his throat, and Jaxon smiled as she inhaled.
This was the second time she’d done that, and Jaxon quirked a smile. “You must like the way I smell.”
“Shh.” She delivered a playful slap to his chest. “You’re ruining it.”
“Ruining what? You got some fantasy that I don’t know about?”
“Mhmm… I was having the most amazing dream before you woke me up.” For a moment, hope flared then crashed to the ground in a fiery explosion a moment later. “Dark hair…” Her eyes flitted downward for a moment, and Jaxon swore he could hear a hint of a smile in her voice when she spoke. “Sexy abs…”
Jaxon followed her gaze to the book lying beside him, a rugged Scot on the cover, tanned and bare-chested.
Brat. He tightened his hold on her, shifting her the tiniest bit closer.
She tipped her head up at him, the teasing glimmer in her sultry eyes telling him she was deriving a great deal of pleasure from yanking his chain.
She ran one hand over his chest. “Chiseled pecs…”
Jaxon flattened his lips to keep from smiling. “Yeah? Anything else?”
“A kilt.” She cracked a huge grin, unable to hold it back any longer.
Jaxon snorted. “Can’t help you with that one.”
She let out a dramatic sigh. “What good are you?”
Smart-aleck. Jaxon let out a low growl, gratified when her pupils dilated, lust swimming in the dark depths. “Oh, sweetheart, I’ll show you just how good I am.”