Sapphire Nights (Crystal Magic Book 1)(87)
Turning around, she almost pressed her nose into Alan Gump’s expensive vest. Off-balance, she stepped back and her spine hit the wall. “Hasn’t anyone taught you about personal space?” she asked irritably.
There was something about the lodge that made her say things she shouldn’t.
The bulky man shrugged and stepped aside enough that she could sidle past him. “I was just trying to see what you saw in that old piece of junk.”
“Bullies intimidate by occupying personal space,” she continued, easing toward the door. “It’s not a good policy around people who carry weapons though.”
Who in hell was this talking? She didn’t carry weapons. Sam wanted to bat her ear to see if Cass was inside her head again. But she didn’t sense Cass. Alan Gump just turned her into a porcupine for some reason. Maybe this was why the Lucys didn’t talk to him.
Ignoring her comment, he continued studying the painting. “Did you recognize anyone in this?”
Sam put a few tables and chairs between them. “Considering the painting is over half a century old, hardly.”
“I was told they were a cult. This seems to prove it.” He turned his back on the artwork to regard her. “The Kennedys are too polite to say so, but they don’t want you up here. I can set you up with a fine place in Frisco. Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be wasting her time with these nuts.”
Appalled at the implication, Sam retorted, “Rich sexists like you don’t belong anywhere.” She swung on her heel and marched out.
She felt as if she’d just left a load of filth behind, but she was more worried about the words spouting from her mouth—as if they weren’t her own.
Chapter 28
In search of Francois, Walker encountered Sam emerging from the lodge looking pale and angry. His insides lurched dangerously in a way he should ignore but couldn’t. Since she wasn’t looking his way, he stepped in her path.
Her fingers were clenched in balls, and she stared at him blankly for half a second before visibly relaxing.
“Mariah is right. I should carry my staff everywhere.” She practically spat the words.
“Want to talk about it or go find the stick and whop someone first?” he asked. Until she explained, he didn’t know whether he ought to be amused or angry. He knew better than to say she looked beautiful when she was mad.
“Neither,” she decided. She shoved her recalcitrant hair back from her face and finally smiled up at him, nearly melting him on the spot. “I’ll carry the stick from now on. How’s your day going?”
“Valdis is looking good. Her Lucys practically threw me out of her room, but not without implicating Francois and maybe Carmel in any and all dastardly deeds. Since they’re Lucys, I take their warnings with blocks of salt. Xavier has been transferred to rehab, where he’s not currently accessible. And your day?” He leaned against her Subaru, crossed his arms, and waited. Communication was supposed to be a two-way street.
She didn’t answer immediately, as if deciding what to share. “I’ve been busy. You might want to talk to Lance, though. He claims Juan was in the habit of blackmailing people. So maybe Valdis was on to something when she channeled him—although again, she gave it a Lucy twist to implicate the Kennedys. I need to help Dinah with the lunch rush, but if you have time, stop by later, and I’ll try to catch you up.” She kissed his cheek and reached around him for her door handle.
The casual familiarity gave him a thrill, making him feel as if it might be possible to more than exist someday. Walker caught Sam’s long hair, tilted her head back, and planted a more satisfactory kiss on her mouth. She responded with enough electricity to momentarily gratify him.
“See you after dinner, then. I can’t ignore Lucy warnings entirely, so I’m off to interrogate Francois. Wish me luck.”
“Carry a big stick,” she warned. “This place is infested with termites.”
Wondering what that meant, Walker let her go. He wanted to believe that Sam was sane and could take care of herself, that he didn’t have to fight any battles for her or with her. He’d never realized how his love for mentally crippled Tess and his need to help her had been an anchor tying him down, despite doctors telling him there was nothing he could do.
Before he could figure out the rest of his life, he had to find out who had killed his father. He had the sneaking suspicion that Juan’s death was in some way related to the discovery of his father’s corpse, although that made sense more in his mind than on paper.
Juan had been blackmailing people? Damn. That opened whole new avenues.
He’d already checked and knew the Kennedy Escalade was parked in the reserved spot. He’d never bothered to learn where Francois hung out when he wasn’t driving. Since the homicide team was here, he tracked them to a meeting room.
“Have you interviewed the chauffeur yet today?” he asked after providing a report on what he’d learned from the Lucys about Francois being a snitch and possibly a stoner.
“He’s on the list,” the detective in charge said. “But we have no motive. We were hoping something would turn up before we questioned him.”
“Loyalty to an employer is weak. But if he likes easy money and drugs, there’s potential,” Walker said. “And if Juan was in the habit of blackmailing people, what are the chances he might have had something on Francois?”