Sapphire Nights (Crystal Magic Book 1)(43)

Others? As in other artists? People with brown skin? Walker wanted to know more, but he had to stick to the case. “So you somehow found Cass in California?”

“The genealogist did. She traced census reports and addresses and thought Cass might be a relation because of the Tolliver name and her location. She could only find a mail-drop for her in San Francisco. I was prepared to start knocking on doors if necessary, but Cass finally responded to my letter.”

“And she agreed to meet you in the restaurant in Monterey?” Walker helped her into the Explorer and hurried around to the driver’s side to hear the rest of the story.

“I told her I’d never seen the ocean. I don’t know why she didn’t suggest San Francisco. Maybe it’s too big a city for me to drive in?”

“Probably, or too big for Cass to handle anymore. She pretty much lives in Hillvale these days, although I guess her occasional disappearances are to whatever she has going in San Francisco.”

“Anyway, she sent me the GPS as a graduation gift when I told her I would be driving out. I was so terrified of leaving all I knew that the GPS was like someone holding my hand.”

“And it never occurred to you that Cass might be a fraud trying to con you out of your trust fund?”

She shrugged, and her loose shirt slid off one shoulder, revealing skin pale as moonlight. “I’m sheltered but not stupid. The trust fund was well invested, and my parents didn’t draw on it often. It isn’t enormous, just enough so that I can survive if I don’t live luxuriously. I was trying to get up the nerve to travel on my own—I even got my TSA pre-check card—so I took care not to overspend. I never carry anything but my credit card.”

“What did Cass tell you when you showed up?” He steered the SUV up a narrow road to the hilltop resort.

“She told me that she’d raised my father since he was an infant and gave him her husband’s name, so Zachary Tolliver was his legal name, and I could look at her as my grandmother.” In the moonlight, her pale features wrinkled with concern. “She said my real grandmother was part of the psychedelic drugs era, became a heroin addict, and my father was born with fetal drug addiction, which made him a difficult and sickly child.”

“And Zachary’s real father?” Walker parked the Explorer in an obscure part of the luxury hotel’s lot, away from the Jags and BMWs. No sense in disturbing the clientele with an official vehicle.

“My grandfather didn’t marry the heroin addict. According to Cass, my grandmother died of an overdose within a year, and my grandfather didn’t want anything to do with his sickly son. But he provided a trust fund for Zachary’s support.”

“This isn’t going to end well, is it?” He got out his case with the laptop and punched his reservation into his phone, gaining the code for their room. By the time they reached the front door, he had their e-key and steered her toward the elevators.

She halted at the elaborate bouquet in the main lobby. “Some of those are from Australia,” she said in wonder, reaching out to touch what looked like a prickly purple thorn. “Do they grow them here?”

“Clueless. The only plant I’ve ever grown is weed, and I don’t mean the garden variety. And it died.” Walker finally dragged her away, but now he realized she’d never been in a fancy hotel. He was dealing with a virtual newborn.

“Were you experimenting in smoking or growing?” she asked as they entered the elevators.

Not totally a newborn then, if she knew what pot was. Of course she did, she took botany classes and lived with artists. “Both. That was back in college when I was young and stupid.”

“And now you’re thinking I’m just out of college and equally young and stupid.” She yanked her elbow from his grip.

Shame that, he’d been enjoying the flesh-to-flesh contact. “No, a little na?ve, perhaps, but not stupid by a long shot.”

She pondered that as the elevator opened directly into the suite. Even he was a little impressed by the grandeur. Sofia had warned him that this would suck his pocket dry.

Sam gawked in silence.

Walker removed his holster, then perused the sleeping situation. Two equally grandiose bedrooms joined by an enormous sitting/dining area. If he were really lucky, it had a well-stocked bar. He found the refrigerator and the bar and poured himself another beer. It was going to be a long night if he had to stay up and watch Sam sway around the room, caressing flower arrangements and tinkling the keys on the grand piano. He wanted to yank the combs out of her hair and let it fall down her back.

“More wine?” he asked, offering up a full-size bottle. “Or champagne?”

“Champagne? I’ve never had champagne.” She sauntered over to examine the bottle. “I can’t drink all that. Maybe some other time.”

He unwrapped the cork and popped it. “It’s not every day you find long lost family and your memory. How much more did Cass tell you?” He must be as insane as the Lucys to believe this crap, but it all fit with what he already knew. He found a glass in the bar and poured the bubbly under a bright light so she could admire the fizz. She was a cute drunk, and he needed her to continue the story to keep from pouncing on her.

Sam gave him another of those devastating smiles that went straight to his groin. Taking the glass, she sipped cautiously. “It tickles.”