In eighty-two days she would be eligible to apply for benefits. And today promised to be good. She would play second fiddle to Johanna Parker on an attorney case. She’d met Johanna yesterday—she was forty-five, dark-eyed, gray-haired and proud of it, and retired from the Seattle PD. Apparently when a defendant retained a private attorney in a criminal case, that attorney in turn often retained a PI, especially if that PI was a retired cop. The PI would do the legwork, talk to cops, talk to witnesses, review police reports, and so on. And Audrey would get to sit in on all of it and see how the other side worked.
Oh yes. Today would be good. If she wasn’t trying to be professional, she’d run down the hallway squealing, “Wheeeee!” like a four-year-old who had just been told she would get to go to the water park. She reached for her office door.
“Audrey!” Johanna’s voice called behind her.
Audrey turned on her heel. “Yes, ma’am?”
Johanna was leaning out of her office two doors down the hallway, half-in, half-out. “You have a client. Serena put him in your office because George has the conference room.”
A client? Already? “Thank you!” Audrey took the door handle.
“He said he’s a friend of your brother.”
A little ball of ice burst inside Audrey and petrified her in place. Nothing connected with Alex could be good. It wasn’t her father—Seamus was too vain. He would’ve said he was her father. No, this was either some drug dealer or someone who had gotten wind of the heist and wanted his money.
She stared at the door. Her instincts said, “Walk away.” Let go of the door handle, turn around, walk away, and keep walking.
“Anyway, I need you at ten, so you have about an hour,” Johanna said. “Do you think you can wrap it up by then?”
Audrey heard her own voice. “Yes, ma’am.” Go into your office so I can escape. Go into your office.
Johanna laughed. “You can stop calling me ‘ma’am.’ We’re less formal here on the West Coast. Just ‘Johanna’ will do.”
“Okay, Johanna.” Audrey forced a smile. Go away.
Johanna turned to stop into her office and paused.
Now what?
Serena was walking down the hallway with a pack of folders. Oh no. Keep walking. Keeeep walking.
Serena stopped by Johanna’s doorway and held out a file. She would have to go by them to get outside. Her escape route was gone.
Why now? Why when everything is going so well? Am I cursed or something?
Audrey swallowed. That was fine. She was a Callahan. She would handle it.
Audrey opened the door. A man stood by the window, looking out. He wore faded jeans, tan leather work boots, and a charcoal hoodie. She could walk outside and find ten men wearing a variation of the same thing. People on the West Coast took it easy and didn’t bother with too much formality. Out here, he could be anyone: an older college student, a college professor, or the CEO of a multimillion-dollar company.
His hair was neither too long nor too short, tousled, and very dark, almost black. His shoulders were wide, his waist mostly hidden by the sweatshirt, but his butt looked like he’d spent a fair amount of time running. Hair and butt said younger than forty, shoulders said older than teens. Probably late twenties. Her entire assessment took about a second.
Audrey beamed a bright, pretty-girl smile, and said, “Hi!”
The man turned.
Oh sweet Jesus.
He had a narrow, strong face, good cheekbones, and a full mouth. If she covered the top half of his face, she’d say he was a very handsome man. But his eyes, they were devil eyes. Light brown like clover honey, smart, and framed in long eyelashes, the man’s eyes brimmed with wicked humor. They lit his whole face, changing him from a handsome man to the kind of man any woman with a drop of sense would stay away from. He toned it down almost right away. The only reason she saw it at all was because she had caught him off guard, but it was too late. Nice try. She’d spent her life in the Edge, among con artists, thieves, and swindlers. Don’t you worry. I’ve got your number.
This man was a rogue, not because circumstances forced him to be a criminal but because he was born that way. He was probably conning his mother out of her milk the moment he could grin. He’d charm the clothes off a virgin in twenty minutes. And if the poor fool took him home, he’d drink her dad under the table, beguile her mother, charm her grandparents, and treat the girl to a night she’d never forget. In the morning, her dad would be sick with alcohol poisoning, the good silver would be missing together with the family car, and in a month, both the former virgin and her mother would be expecting.
Whatever he wanted, it was bad. She had to get the hell away from him. He wasn’t one of Alex’s junkie buddies, and he wasn’t one of her father’s “friends.” Seamus Callahan knew his limits. This man would run circles around him, and Seamus never partnered with anyone smarter than himself. Well, except for the family.
No, this man was too dangerous to be a common Edge rat. He was working for someone in the Edge or, more likely, in the Weird, and he probably wanted the box she had stolen from West Egypt. If he had found her, others would follow. They would never leave her alone, and they wouldn’t think twice about killing her.
She was finished. Her job, her life, it was all over.
THE girl was beautiful.
Kaldar had expected a junkie or a long-suffering victim, a woman with a haggard face, toughened by life, and bitter. He’d seen some pretty girls in his time, a lot of them in their entirety, but Audrey was in a class by herself. She was golden. Her tan skin almost glowed. Her dark eyes sparked under narrow eyebrows. Her hair, pulled away from her face, was that particular shade of dark red, more brown touched with gold rather than orange. And when she smiled at him, showing white teeth, it was infectious. He wanted to smile back and do something amusing so she would smile at him again.
She walked up to him. Big smile, wide eyes, no hesitation. Nice outfit too; professional, true, but tight enough to show off her long legs and hug her butt, and her red shirt under the jacket was cut just low enough to pull the gaze to her breasts, which were very nice to look at. He’d bet there were men in this building who spent too much time picturing themselves peeling off her clothes and pondering the color of her panties. The question was, did she know it, and if she did, how did she use it?
“Hi!” she repeated, all sunshine and roses. “My name is Audrey. How can I help you?”
Her voice was golden too—smooth with a light touch of the South. He should’ve gone for a different type of disguise, something warmer and more folksy, instead of Seattle grunge. But too late now. Either she was really good, and he was in trouble, or she was an airhead, and he was unbelievably lucky.
“Hi, Audrey.” Kaldar smiled back, dropping a hint of his own South into his voice as well. “My name’s Denis Morrow.”
“So nice to meet you, Denis.”
“The pleasure’s all mine.”
Audrey shook his hand, and he caught a whiff of her perfume: citrus, peaches, and sandalwood, fresh, sensual, but not overpowering.
Her fingers squeezed his for a second and slipped out of his hand. He’d expected it, but his pulse sped up all the same. She was good.
“Please sit down.”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
Kaldar sat in the wooden chair in front of her desk. She went to her desk, sashaying a little, sat, and smiled at him. It was a sweet and completely innocent smile. He half expected flowers to sprout from the carpet and small birds to spring into song.