In His Keeping (Slow Burn #2)(21)

“What exactly did you do?” Beau asked quietly.

She went silent, chewing on her bottom lip in consternation. He could tell she was waging one hell of an internal battle. Deciding how much she should tell him, if anything at all.

“Ari. Do you prefer Ari or Arial?”

“Ari,” she said in a husky voice. “Everyone calls me Ari.”

“All right, Ari. You came to me because on some level you knew that if your father trusted us then so could you. And if I’m going to help you I have to know everything. You can’t leave a single thing out because I have to know what I’m dealing with. If you’re worried about privacy, we have a very strict policy of client confidentiality. We don’t even keep hard copies and our computer system is impenetrable. We hire the very best and we take our business—and our clients—very seriously.”

“Does that mean you’re going to help me?” she asked anxiously. “If it’s payment you’re worried about, I assure you I have the money.”

Even as she spoke, she began digging out ten-thousand-dollar wraps and placing them on his desk in agitation.

“Just tell me how much. I can pay it. If the cash isn’t enough I can get more.”

Beau reached across the desk and captured one small hand, holding her still before she could go back to her purse again. He rubbed his thumb over her satiny soft skin in an effort to soothe her.

“We’ll discuss money later,” he said gently. “Right now I need information from you so we know what we’re up against and so we know where to start looking. You said your parents disappeared? Or that they’re in danger?”

Tears shimmered in those electric, almost neon eyes, making them even more vibrant. They practically glowed, making her eyes seem much larger against her delicate bone structure.

His gaze found her swollen eye again and he ground his teeth together because it pissed him off to imagine someone striking such a small woman hard enough to put that kind of bruise on her. She was lucky nothing was broken. But then how did he know there wasn’t? It wasn’t like she could just pop into the local ER to get X-rays.

He made a mental note to have a doctor come to see her once he got her settled somewhere safe.

She twisted her hands in agitation and then reached up, pushing her fingers into her temples as if to relieve pain and tension. It was all he could do not to take over the task himself and remain behind his desk as an impartial third party. Someone she wanted to hire.

“Why don’t you let me ask questions,” he prompted. “It may be easier for you to focus if you only have to answer instead of struggling with how to tell your story and decide whether you can trust me or not.”

Guilt flashed in her eyes, telling him that he’d hit the mark and that she was indeed battling with herself over whether to trust him. Then her lips firmed and she straightened, looking directly at him as if she’d come to a decision.

“My father trusted you,” she said softly. “So I do as well. He wouldn’t have ever told me to come to you if he hadn’t known with absolute certainty that you were a good man and that you would help me. You’re all I’ve got, Mr. Devereaux. And beggars can’t be choosers. Especially when it comes to my parents’ lives.”

“Please, call me Beau,” he said. “Mr. Devereaux makes me feel like an old fart and I hope to hell that’s not what I look like.”

Her face flushed pink and a tiny smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. He was astonished by the change in her eyes during that one moment she’d let her guard down. He was mesmerized by the kaleidoscope of shimmering colors contained in those small orbs.

“You certainly aren’t an old fart, so Beau it is,” she said lightly.

He could sense her relaxing just a bit, some of the awful tension starting to leave her body.

“Would you like some coffee or tea? Perhaps soda?”

She shook her head and glanced down at her watch. “I’ve wasted too much time as it is. It could already be too late for them.”

Pain and distress immediately flooded her eyes once more and desolation cast dark shadows over her features.

“When did they disappear?” Beau asked, deciding to take the bull by the horns and discontinue this delicate dance to try to make her feel at ease.

“Yesterday. Yesterday afternoon,” she said, blowing out a deep breath. “I know it sounds silly to be worried when they’ve been gone less than twenty-four hours, but you have to understand. After what happened, they would never have left me for that long. They had only gone out to do some quick shopping. For me. We were moving to one of my father’s undisclosed residences so I would be shielded from the media and any other nutcase out there who might possibly come after me.”

Beau’s eyebrow lifted at the “undisclosed residence” part, but then judging by the expensive clothing Ari wore and the several 10k wraps she’d dug out of her oversized purse, not to mention the obvious security measures her father took, her family must be wealthy. He made a mental note to dig up everything he could find on Gavin Rochester as soon as he could get word to Quinn. For now, he put it aside so he could focus on the rest, but at the first opportunity, without alerting her to the fact, he would have Quinn do some discreet, but thorough, checking

The name bothered him because he was certain there was a connection to his parents and he and his brothers were suspicious of anyone associated with his parents before their “untimely” deaths.