The Wharf

As she snapped her plastic down on the tray, Ryan tapped her phone on the table. “You have a couple of messages.”

“I heard them come through earlier.” She picked up the phone. “Didn’t want to disturb our flow.”

“Yeah, we do have a flow, don’t we?”

The hostess with the mostest had extricated herself from Lopez, who’d since left the restaurant. She parked herself next to Ryan’s chair, batting her fake eyelashes. “Is there anything else we can do for you today?”

“No, thanks. Sorry we took up this table all afternoon.”

“No problem.” She waved her perfectly manicured nails. “I could see you were hard at work over here. If you like to play as hard as you work, a friend of mine is having a party tonight at a private club. I could get you in as my...guest.”

Kacie clenched her teeth as she tapped her phone to view her messages. He could do whatever he wanted while he was here, including partying with pretty people, as long as he made himself available to her for their interviews and a few field trips.

But she didn’t even hear his response as she read over her second message. The blood drained from her face and her head felt like a balloon ready to float away.

“Kacie?”

She glanced up from the display to meet Ryan’s eyes, wide and questioning.

“Are you okay?”

The hostess backed up from the table. “I’ll let you two finish your business.”

Kacie dragged in a breath and released it through dry lips. “It’s my contact from last night. He wants to meet again tonight.”

“The ex-con?” He snapped his fingers for the phone. “No way.”

She raised her brows. When had she appointed him her master scheduler? She handed him the phone anyway, realizing she’d have a hard time saying no to this man.

He peered at the display and read it aloud. “‘Meet me same place as last night, same time. More info. DB.’”

He handed the phone back to her. “You recognize that number?”

“It’s the same one he used before and the same initials.” She pressed her damp palms against her napkin, still crumpled in her lap. “Maybe he knows about that doll. Maybe he saw who gave it to the homeless guy.”

“Maybe you should ignore him.”

“I can’t. He’s warning me about Walker.”

“Or he’s doing Walker’s bidding. You ever think of that?”

“Yes. I’m not stupid.”

“Oh, I know that, but you’re not thinking clearly right now. You are not going to traipse down to the wharf alone at eleven o’clock at night.”

“I have to go. He might have important information about Walker’s next move against me, maybe something I can give to the police this time.”

Ryan held up his hands. “You weren’t listening. I said you weren’t going there alone.”

A little thrill raced down her back. She couldn’t help it. “He’ll never talk if he sees you there.”

“Who said he’s going to see me?”

She waved her hand to indicate his imposing form. “Little hard for someone like you to blend in.”

“I have my ways.”

She added a tip to the bill and scribbled her signature. As she tucked the receipt in the side pocket of her purse, she said, “As long as you stay out of sight. I don’t want you spoiling my meeting.”

“How about saving your life?” He pushed back from the table and stepped around it to pull her chair out for her. “Is that okay with you?”

She nodded as silly schoolgirl butterflies took flight in her belly.

This was exactly the effect Daniel Walker wanted to have on her—wrap her around his little finger, tell her sweet little lies.

What could Ryan Brody’s motive possibly be? To make sure she wrote a favorable book about his father? She’d already told him she planned to do so. Did he doubt her?

She’d have to watch herself with this man, in more ways than one. Because she couldn’t let a sexy grin and a pair of strong arms deter her from exacting her revenge on his father.

Her mom deserved justice.

Chapter Four (#ulink_5fa1c294-61b3-535d-b9f1-fe14b610c17e)

Ryan slung the towel over his shoulder, his gaze riveted on the pool area where three teenagers roughhoused in the water. They had to be the same ones from the night before.

He pushed through the glass door separating the weight room and the swimming area, and the humidity of the pool deck seeped into his flesh. The soles of his running shoes squished the wet tiles as he crossed to the edge of the pool. He squatted beside it and called out, “Hey.”

Three faces turned toward him, a sullen look already forming around the mouth of one of them.

He was the one who answered. “Yeah?”

“Were you guys in here last night? In the hot tub?”

The three of them exchanged quick glances, and another teen spoke up, an earnest look on his face. “Yes, sir. We were in the hot tub late last night.”

“Did you happen to see a woman out here?”

“Yeah, she went into the pool.”

“She was smokin’ hot for a cougar.” The first boy to have spoken up stuck his tongue out of his mouth and flicked it up and down.

Ryan’s hands, resting on his knees, curled into fists.

“Shut up, man.” The Boy Scout punched his friend in the shoulder, then turned his attention back to Ryan. “Why are you asking? Did something happen?”

Flexing his fingers, Ryan dropped one knee to the deck. “Someone played a trick on her in the sauna.”

The sullen one lost the attitude and the smirk and said, “She was still in the pool when we left.”