Behind Closed Doors (Behind Closed Doors #1)(65)

“In other words,” Jason says, “this tells us nothing, on top of nothing. What about the waitress?”

“Nothing yet,” Daniel states, seeming to cringe at his word choice.

“We need a new PI firm,” Jason says, his voice low, tight in a way that is a telltale sign of his stress, and I don’t think he shows that to anyone but this little circle. Daniel knows all his weak spots, of which there seem to be few.

“These people are the best of the best,” Daniel says.

“And yet they can’t even find the waitress we know was in this hotel last night,” Jason says. “That doesn’t say ‘the best’ to me.”

“This is what they said to me,” Daniel states. “There are only two ways this is possible. Stephanie is dead, or she has professional, skilled help. They want a list of anyone you think could be working with her. I gave them my and Abel’s names, so you don’t have to. You need to know you can trust everyone around you. And I want this over so you can retire on top of your game, like you planned.”

Either Daniel’s really, truly as innocent as I hope or he’s a master bluffer. I think he’s innocent. He’s also now looking at me. “And I gave them your information.”

“Good,” I say, now thinking he was using himself to justify having me investigated. “One step closer to you being nice to me.”

“Daniel, man,” Jason starts, “this isn’t—”

“This is fine by me,” I say, certain he’s about to insist I won’t be investigated.

Daniel gives me a hooded inspection. “Then you won’t mind giving them the key to the storage unit.”

Red alert, I think, concerned again about his ever-so-urgent need to get inside that unit.

Davie chooses that moment to step to Jason’s side. “We need you on set, man,” he says.

“Hi,” I say, deciding his vibe is decidedly nice-guy producer today, not creepy, Peeping Tom, ratings-hog guy. And after that call Jason had with him, my gut says creepy guy is gone. I hope I’m right.

“I’ll be right there,” Jason tells him, and when Davie looks like he wants to physically pull him along, Jason adds, “Two minutes, Davie.” Davie grimaces and walks away, while Jason focuses on Daniel. “Skye and I will meet the PI at the unit. Have him text me and we’ll set it up.” He looks between Daniel and Abel. “Keep an eye on Skye.” He wraps his arm around my waist, leans in for a quick kiss, and murmurs, “We’ll talk about what just happened when I’m done.” And then he’s walking away.

“What the f*ck was that, Daniel?” Abel snaps, his voice low, his tone gravelly with accusation, and it’s only now that I realize he’s been unusually quiet.

Daniel gives him one of his scowls. “What the f*ck are you talking about, Abel?”

“I’m fine, Abel,” I say, thinking he’s defending me, but Abel doesn’t even look in my direction.

“You want him to retire on top,” he replies, “but you’re going to make him doubt everyone around him?”

“He pays me to look out for him, Abel. And he’s a man, not a boy with toys, and only this game on the line. He has substantial financial assets, and his parents, to think about. So back the f*ck off.”

“Abel!” Davie shouts, hurrying toward us. “Your damn quarterback is being a little bitch. Come get him under control. This is for charity, not his personal press op.”

Abel shoves his dark hair from his face, which is now a bit red, looking at Daniel. “When he goes down, blame yourself. I will.” He then walks away.

“Are you going to attack me now?” Daniel snaps, looking at me.

“No. I think you did the right thing.”

He studies me, his expression unreadable, which tells me every scowl he delivers to anyone is intended. “You’re in this now,” he says. “I don’t know what that means for any of us, but it’s smelling really bad to me. So you stay in this room. If you leave, even to go to the bathroom, you tell me.”

“Because what? You think I’m up to something?”

“Because you affect him. It’s obvious, and if this is bigger than Stephanie, I do not want you becoming a target. Which is exactly why the f*ck he shouldn’t have gotten involved with you.” And on that note, he also turns and walks away.

I stand there a full minute, shell-shocked by both Abel and Daniel, and remembering some of the courtroom cases I sat in on with my old boss, as well as his advice—I need to dissect every word just spoken. Actually, I need a journal, or a pad of paper, to take notes on everyone in Jason’s life. For now, though, I reach for my phone and dial Ella, and get voice mail again. I pull up my neighbor’s number and punch it in, frustrated when she doesn’t answer, and leave her a message to call me, too.

“Skye!”

I look up to find Mandy and Sheila waving for me to join them on the bleachers, with a pretty blonde by their side. As much as I don’t want any part of their “girl talk,” the more people I know and talk to, the greater chance that someone will screw up and let on that they’re involved in this.

I walk in that direction, and Sheila pats the seat next to her. “Sit. I’m so glad to see you. You might distract Jason from winning all those games.”