Wilde at Heart (Wilde Security, #3)(26)

But the thought of Shelby at the opera was so ridiculous, a snort of laughter escaped before he could stop it. Shelby would give that lot of uptight pricks coronaries.

Dylan raised an eyebrow at him and Reece coughed to hide the laugh. “I, uh, don’t think Shelby’s the type to appreciate opera.”

“Really?” Dylan frowned. “What does she do?”

“She’s a small business owner.” Which was the truth, but it still boggled his mind. “She owns The Bean Gallery.”

“The place you like that serves horrible coffee?”

It could be pretty horrible, he had to admit, but come to think of it, the coffee had improved considerably in the last few months. Starting right around the time Shelby had bought out the previous owners. Maybe she knew what she was doing after all. “It’s not that bad, Dyl.”

“Uh-huh. Just like I don’t tell Alicia her cooking sucks, but I’ll defend it until my dying breath if anyone else says so. Welcome to married life.” Dylan levered his gym-honed body out of the chair. “When will we get to meet her?”

“She’ll be at the party tomorrow night.”

Dylan scowled. “I still say we don’t need to impress that old blowhard James. We just need to lose the dead weight of your brothers’ security company. Cut them loose and then we can take DMW public—”

Sighing heavily, Reece sat back in his chair. “We’ve had this discussion. We’re not ready to go public.”

“Maybe not, but we’d be a hell of a lot closer to ready if you quit playing Dick Tracy. You’re not a private investigator, Reece. We’re computer geeks and number crunchers. Stick to what we’re good at, and DMW will flourish.”

“I’m not abandoning my brothers. You know I can’t do that.”

“I know.” Dylan walked to the door, but paused before leaving and glanced back. “But, Reece, if it came down to it, would you choose your brothers over all the people who rely on us for their paychecks? Would you really give our employees their pink slips to save your brothers’ struggling business?”

The answer felt like a betrayal and clogged his throat. It took a hard swallow before he was able to give it voice. “No. I wouldn’t. But it doesn’t matter because I’m going to secure this deal with James. It will keep DMW in the black and give Wilde Security the time it needs to get its legs back under it.”

“I don’t know about that, buddy.” Dylan shook his head. “I’m a gambling man…but Wilde Security is a risk even I wouldn’t take.”

Same old discussion, different day. Reece turned to his computer, signaling the end of the conversation. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“All right.” Dylan tapped his fist lightly against the doorjamb a couple times. “I look forward to meeting your bride. Don’t look forward to kissing James’s saggy ass.”

Reece stared at the door for a long time after it shut behind his VP. Dylan was 100 percent against this deal with James, but would he actually stoop to blackmail to sabotage it and force the choice between DMW and Wilde Security?

Reece’s heart said no, but he still pulled up the spreadsheet he’d started and added Dylan’s name under the column labeled “suspects” then took a minute to fill in the other columns, including “motive” and “opportunity” with the information he had. Then he studied the mostly empty sheet. Yes, Dylan had a motive, but where was his opportunity? He hadn’t been in Vegas, but it was possible he had hired someone. He couldn’t be eliminated.

And that hurt.

Dammit.

Reece sat back and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Dylan was right about one thing. He was no Dick Tracy. In fact, he was so out of his element with this, he was at a loss as to where to start. He usually let his brothers handle the investigating part of Wilde Security while he dealt with the finances and the occasional home security installation. But he couldn’t very well hand this problem over to them. There was something going on with Greer, and Reece feared the big guy was silently falling apart. Vaughn was obsessed with finding Lark. Cam was a newlywed, and Reece wasn’t about to dump a problem like this in his lap so soon after the wedding. And Jude…

Well, Reece could admit to himself in the quiet sanctity of his office it was pride keeping him from asking Jude for help. Last summer they’d taken the first steps toward mending the rift that formed between them after their parents were killed, but they still had a ways to go yet. He wasn’t comfortable enough to take a problem as personal as blackmail to Jude.

He closed the spreadsheet and sat back in his chair. Dick Tracy or not, he was on his own with this investigation.





Chapter Eleven


Shelby had heard the front door open an hour ago, but continued unpacking without so much as peeking out into the living room. She figured she wasn’t Reece’s wife—legally, yes, but not really, not at heart, where it counted—so she didn’t have to meet him at the door with a drink and dinner in the oven.

Right?

Crap. She had no clue. The only thing she knew about marriage was what she’d seen on TV. Her mother had been married on and off throughout the years, but those relationships had been toxic, more like a how-not-to-do-marriage guidebook than a good template.