The Killing Game(73)

Luke was in jeans but was shirtless. She saw the whorls of light brown hair on his chest and the sculpted muscles. The man was in great shape. She had a moment of comparing him to Greg and was mad at herself. Greg had been Greg. He’d had good points and bad, like everyone, and he was part of her history.

He was making a cup of coffee from her Keurig machine, brown liquid pouring into the cup he’d placed beneath the machine’s spigot. Hearing her approach, he looked up. “Good morning,” he said. “Thought I’d rustle up some coffee.”

“There’s cream in the refrigerator. Sugar bowl’s up there.” She pointed to a cupboard.

“Black’s fine.”

Luke had returned to her cabin the evening before with Asian food from the restaurant where they’d first had lunch together. “Figured we could use some food,” he’d said, and they’d sat at her table and shared the same dishes they’d ordered before and a few more as well.

Of course once she was away from the threat of the Carreras she’d started having second thoughts about having him stay over. She’d said as much, but he’d swept her protests aside. “I’ll feel better,” he insisted, and that had decided it for the moment.

“Want a cup?” he asked, sweeping a hand toward the rack of small cups of coffee, flavored, decaffeinated, and regular. “I can make you anything you want. How about hazelnut? Or vanilla?”

“Regular,” she said, smiling.

“Coming right up.” He pulled another mug from the cupboard above the machine, removed his steaming cup, then put hers in its place and pressed the button. Immediately coffee began to pour into it. “Cream? Sugar?” he asked.

“A little cream.”

He pivoted to her refrigerator and found the half and half. By the time he got back to the machine her mug was nearly filled. Taking the mug from the Keurig, he lifted a questioning eyebrow as he began pouring a slow stream of cream into it.

“Perfect,” she said, and he lifted the spout, put the carton back in the refrigerator, and picked up his own cup.

They stared at each other. Then both began to talk at once.

“You don’t have to stay—” she began.

“I want to ask you something—” he said.

“Okay, you go first,” Andi told him, motioning toward him with her mug.

“I’ve been thinking. Psychologically, the ‘little bird’ cards aren’t like the Carreras. It could be them,” he added quickly, apparently feeling she was about to protest, “but, like I said before, the brothers are generally more confrontational. I’d like to go at them hammer and tongs, but it wouldn’t be smart.”

She nodded in agreement.

“The Carreras are dangerous, and I don’t like that your brother-in-law is trying to do business with them, but one thing about it: As long as they’re working out a deal, I don’t think they’ll risk hurting you. They’re already under a microscope and that would bring the authorities down on them like a tsunami.”

“Okay.”

“But I want to keep staying with you. Someone out there is threatening you, purposely scaring you, and I want to know who it is before you stay another night here alone. Maybe it’s the Carreras, maybe it isn’t, but either way, that’s what I’d like to do. With your permission.”

“Absolutely. I just don’t want you to feel like you’re wasting your time.”

“It’s my time to waste.”

“I know, but you know what I mean.”

“I’ll work up the paperwork for our partnership today. I have work to do for my brother.” He gulped some coffee. “What are your plans?”

“It’s Saturday, so I’m not going into the office.”

He frowned. “You just plan to be around the cabin?”

“Would you rather I was somewhere else?”

“You’re kind of isolated out here.”

“I’ll go into Laurelton. Shop or something. Just gotta shake the cobwebs out of my head.”

“Stop by my office. I’ll be there later.”

“Okay. You can use the shower first,” she invited.

“No, go ahead. I’ll call Dallas.” He reached toward the counter where his cell phone lay.

“Dallas is your brother?”

“A defense attorney.” He grinned suddenly. “We didn’t see eye to eye when I was on the force. I thought a lot of his clients were dirtbags. People he was just trying to get off. Meanwhile, he kept trying to get me to quit. I kept saying I didn’t know what I’d do. He thought I should be a writer. Then I did quit, and he really pushed it after that.

But now he wants to hire me as an investigator.” He shook his head. “Life’s circular sometimes.”

“Yes, it is.”

Andi headed to the shower. It was strange to have no plans. Normally she would just stay home, but Luke’s comments about her isolation had resonated and she didn’t want to be anywhere without other people around.

Trini, she thought. Andi didn’t think she gave classes on Saturdays, so she might as well drop by to see if they were still on for tonight.

*

Tracy Farmgren stopped by the Sirocco Realty offices and smiled at the girl with the big eyes at the reception desk. It was her desk. She was the receptionist and this girl—Heidi—the daughter of one of the principal brokers, was a growing problem. First just weekends and then a few more days here and there . . . Tracy had been through the same thing before and this time she was staking her claim before things got out of hand.