Chapter 15

As soon asPhin picked up the phone, Ash asked, “How’s shadow duty going?”

“Fine. She’s locked in her office doing video conferences.”

Ash slid his index finger over the condensation coating the lower half of his glass of ice water. “When did you last lay eyes on her?”

“Right before lunch.”

“You haven’t seen her since?”

“I haven’t, but Luke, one of my coworkers, delivered a salad to her not long ago. I’ve got a direct line to her door.”

“Luke saw her?”

“I assume so. He came out of her office laughing like they’d been joking around.” Phin’s voice hardened. “What’s with all the questions, Ash? I said I’d protect her and I am.”

“Bro, she gave you the slip.”

A short silence, then, “Bullshit. Quit fucking around.”

“Go check her office.”

He heard the squeak of a chair, then a sharp knock, then, “Sonofabitch.” Hard footsteps, metal rolling against plastic. “What the hell?”

“Speak to me,” he said.

“Her purse is still here.”

“What about her billfold?”

“I don’t know, and I’m not digging around to find out. Give me a minute. I’ll track down her accomplice and figure out where she went.”

“Leave him alone. He was only following orders.”

“You’re taking this well,” Phin said with suspicion.

“That’s because I’ve had my eyes on our little pigeon for the past fifteen minutes.”

“Fuck.”

“I want to see where she’s going with this. Let them think their little ruse succeeded.”

“It would have, if not for you. ” A heartbeat. “Listen, Ash. I’m sorry.”

“Kayla Krowne is a professional manipulator. Her job is to find her foe’s weaknesses and use them to her advantage. You trusted her to be where she said she would be. She knew you wouldn’t question it.”

He didn’t want Phin to beat himself up over being outmaneuvered by his boss. “This isn’t your fault. I should have never put her safety on your shoulders.”

“I’m going to slay Luke. He took his role in this thing to Oscar-winning levels.”

“He can’t know that you know.”

“He won’t. But I’m going to love fucking with him.”

“Have fun.” He disconnected and dropped his phone into the interior pocket of his jacket. Sitting at the inside bar of Hemingway’s, he had the perfect view of Kayla’s clandestine meeting.

On his way to Kayla’s office to ask her about the pearl earring, he’d observed her walking out of her building, not with Phin, but with a large guy who had either been in the military or law enforcement. The whole time he’d been speaking to Kayla, the man’s head had been on a constant swivel, assessing potential threats.

Pulling into a vacant spot a few cars down, Ash had watched Kayla get into a black Mercedes. The two looked to be having a disagreement, until she’d finally driven off. He’d waited until the guy strode toward a food truck before racing off after the birdie who’d flown the coup.

Why had she gone to such lengths to secure a private meeting with these women? Phin wouldn’t have thought twice about escorting her.

Unless she didn’t want Phin knowing about the meeting—or telling Ash about it.

Which raised the million-dollar question. Why?

They had picked a table well away from the other diners. Enough distance to ensure no one could hear their conversation.

An unwelcome thought burrowed into his mind. Did these women have something to do with the governor’s death? Had one of them stowed a weapon in the garden, then waited for the right moment?

He couldn’t see it. Or maybe he didn’t want to. No, the expression on Kayla’s face when he’d found her crouched over the governor’s body couldn’t have been faked. Shock, fear, devastation—they had all been there.

But he couldn’t ignore Kayla’s insistence that he not go after the shooter. Had she been giving one of the aunts enough time to rejoin the party?

He stared hard at the quartet, then blew out a frustrated breath. More likely, they had gathered together to mourn their friend in private, or maybe do some amateur sleuthing. Discuss potential suspects, make a list of names.

Who the hell knew. But he was wasting his time trying to divine their motives forty feet away. As he reached for his wallet, the fine hairs on the back of his neck snapped to attention.

He made a casual glance around, not seeing anyone acting unusual or looking out of place, until his gaze landed on a man sitting three bar stools down, his broad shoulders propped against the wall behind him. His dark brown eyes focused on him.

It was the same guy he’d spotted with Kayla outside her building.

While he’d been surveilling the ladies, Kayla’s friend had been watching Ash. Had he spotted him on the street, despite his caution?

“Interesting view,” the stranger said in a manner that could have been interpreted as a question or a warning.

The man studied him with predatory interest. The kind that warned the recipient to not run or turn their back on him.

Military, definitely military. He’d put money on special forces.

“Undecided,” Ash said.

“Local cop or fed?”

His pulse snapped off, but just for a heartbeat. If he’d detected Ash on the street, it wouldn’t be a big leap for him to figure out he was law enforcement. He considered ignoring his question, forcing him to work at finding the answer. However, one brief description of her “stalker” was all it would take for Kayla to identify him.

“Bureau. Special agent.” He considered the other man. “Ranger, SEAL, or Recon?”

“Ranger.”

“Boyfriend or bodyguard?”

The sharp edges of the Ranger’s features softened, tilted toward amusement. “Whatever she needs.”

A feral desire to smash his fist into the other man’s face stole over him. Something in his expression must have given him away, because the Ranger produced a big, knowing smile. “You must be Ash Blackwell.”

“Cameron,” he said automatically, then cursed himself for giving any points to this—well, he didn’t know what the guy was just yet. Right now, he’d classify him as a great big pain in the ass, but that could be due to some unfamiliar emotions he wasn’t prepared to dissect at this precise moment.

Though brutal energy still simmered around the Ranger, his shoulders seemed to melt against the wall at his back and he lifted his drink—ice water, Ash noted—to his lips.

“Kayla didn’t have anything to do with the governor’s assassination,” the Ranger said.

Ash’s scrutiny intensified on the guy. Then it hit him. The Ranger hadn’t busted his surveillance. He’d been following Kayla and, when he got here, his predator’s instincts had zeroed in on a potential threat—Ash. He wondered if Kayla knew the guy had a tracking device on her Mercedes.

“You know this one hundred percent?” Ash asked.

“I’d bet my life on it.”

“Because you were hiding in the garden bushes?”

“Kayla Krowne is capable of many things, even ruthless things, but not murder.”

“I’m sure many wives never thought their husbands were capable of murdering them. And yet, so many do.”

“Why would Kayla kill the one person who had veto power in the North Carolina legislature?”

“Desperate people do desperate, illogical things.”

“What is it that you think you know?”

“If I knew, I sure as hell wouldn’t tell someone I’d just met. I don’t even know your damn name.”

Leaning forward, he stuck out an enormous paw. “Mason Wade.”

Ash shook the proffered hand, stood, threw a bill on the bar, and said, “If you come across any information that might help with my investigation”—he tossed him a card—“give me a call.”

“Does this invite include a two-way communication?”

“No.”

“You’re sniffing down the wrong trail, Feeb. Kayla isn’t the killer.”

He was ninety-eight percent sure the Ranger was correct, though Kayla’s clandestine meeting didn’t sit well with him.

Nodding toward the women, he said, “Something smells off about their meeting, and I plan to keep my nose to the ground until I figure out what it is.”

As he walked away, he noted the Ranger hadn’t argued against his intuition or tried to explain away Kayla’s actions.

Because he, too, could smell the rot.