Crossing the Line: Without a Trace series, a contemporary erotic romance novel (20 page)

“You look better,” I say, despite his hair sticking up in all directions.

He grunts in my direction but stays quiet.

Lux rolls her eyes. “You know what, you spoiled brat, cut it out.” She smacks his arm. “That woman has babied you, got your medicine for you, and made you a huge breakfast. Stop being mad at her.”

By the dark look on his face, I think he’s going to snap at her, but the corners of his mouth flicker with a hint of a smile. Then he sticks his tongue out at her.

“Only if you’re going to use it.” She makes a grab for his mouth, and he nearly falls off the chair avoiding her hand.

“Children, no playing at the table,” I tease loudly. But my heart skips a beat. I can hardly stand when Noah’s mad at me, and Lux is coaxing him out of it.

By the end of the meal, Noah’s not staring daggers into my back, which gives me hope.

“I can do some work today,” he says as we clear the table.

“Only if you feel up to it. I’ve a call out for your understudies, so I’m waiting to hear back from them.”

He nods. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be up for a show until next week.”

His voice rasps over the words, and I can’t disagree. He does seem a bit better, but he’s still pale and leaning on the chair to stay upright.

“Why don’t you work on the invoices for this week, and then we’ll see how you feel?”

He wanders to his desk, and I mouth to Lux: “Thank you.”

She waves a hand and checks her phone. “All right, you crazy kids. Evan’s texting me to find out where I’ve landed, so I better get home. I have a client appointment in a few hours anyway. But play nice. Stay out of trouble.” And she leans close to whisper, “Maybe call Ian and hear his side of things?”

I shrug. “Maybe.” The idea of calling him after my behavior yesterday sends shivers of anxiety through my core.

Just after Lux walks out of the house, my phone attempts to ring. The gurgled sound coming from its speaker is a poor representation of its usual ring tone. Thankfully, I can still answer it despite the ruined screen.

“Sweetpea, it’s Fiona. I found something interesting.”

The journey to Ian’s office doesn’t take that long, but I’m so worked up by the time I get to his building that my hands shake as I open the entrance door. The same receptionist sits at the desk, and he calls up to Ian’s office to announce my arrival. While I can answer calls on my phone, I can’t text or place calls, so showing up here was the best I could do. Email felt too…impersonal.

“He’s with a client. He asked if you could wait?”

“Sure.” But my stomach crawls up my esophagus at the idea of just sitting here. Nonetheless, I manage to entertain myself with a book I brought with me, and twenty minutes later, the receptionist directs me to Ian’s office.

Unlike last week, the door’s open, and he’s standing at his desk when I step inside. He looks good, of course. He’s shed his suit jacket, and his white button-down clings to his lithe frame and makes me itch to touch him. But when I dare to meet his gaze, exhaustion and caution greet me. He looks like he got as much sleep as I did last night.

“Hi.”

He nods his greeting. “I was surprised to hear you were downstairs.”

I chew on my lip for a moment. “I would have sent you a warning, but my phone…” I pull it out of my pocket to show him.

“I’m pretty sure I heard when that happened.” He doesn’t move from his spot, but I detect the tiniest bit of amusement.

I close my eyes, heat washing over my face. “I’m sorry. That was inappropriate of me to do that.”

“You were upset.”

“I was.” I don’t know what to say, so we both stand there in silence, the discomfort growing by the second. “I got a call from the private investigator today.”

He gestures to the visitor’s seating. “I’m listening,” he says as he sits down in his own chair.

I’m not sure if I can relax with my insides vibrating so hard; I’m scared I’ll be sick. But I manage to perch on the edge of a chair before I continue. “You see, my brother has a background.”

“I know.”

I startle a bit at his answer. “Oh?”

“I have a friend who works for the NYPD. I asked him to do a little checking around for me.” He steeples his fingers. “It’s not that I didn’t trust that you hired someone, but I thought it might help if we had someone on the inside doing some digging.”

I drop my chin in agreement, but it stings.

“Ella, he’s a friend. It wouldn’t make sense not to contact him, would it?”

“No, it wouldn’t.”

“He told me about your brother’s background.” He stays quiet for a beat, then asks, “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I didn’t want you to blame him.” I sound pathetic, and I hate that.

He shakes his head, running his hands through his hair. “Do you know how many people sit across from me with major strikes against them? I can’t just assume because they have a background or a history of certain behaviors that they’re automatically guilty of the charges. I’d never be able to do my job if I made those kinds of judgments.”

Now I feel petty and small. “I’m sorry. I just…” I trail off, unable to come up with a decent excuse.

“You wanted to protect him. I get that. But it was going to come out, even with the private investigator. Or were you only going to give me the information you think I need?”

My guilt shows plainly on my face, of course.

More silence, and my heart feels like lead. I push out the words I came to say, knowing they’ll only make the situation worse, not better. “Fiona Hamilton is the private investigator I hired. She did some checking on all of the guests that were at the party. My brother was the only one among my crew who had any background of issue. But your friend Casey Udall has several dismissed charges that came up when she did a broader search. She also discovered that he has quite a bit of debt.”

His face is a mask, betraying nothing.

“She staked out his apartment last night and tailed him from one private poker party to another. You’ll probably find that he’s a bit bruised today from an altercation he had with one of the players after a game. From what she could overhear, the fight was over money that Casey owed the guy, and Casey insisted he didn’t have it yet.”

“Let me understand what you’re saying: you think Casey stole from me?”

“I didn’t say that. I am saying that I know my brother, and I know what happened when he was charged years ago. He was an immature, bullied kid who grew up an outcast. He hung out with the wrong crowd and did things he shouldn’t have. He wasn’t innocent—he watched while others stole property and helped them transport it. But he didn’t steal anything himself, and he’s not had a single other incident since then. I believe him when he says he didn’t take anything.” I lift a shoulder and soften my voice. “I know Casey’s your friend, and I would want to protect him if I were you. But he’s got current problems that might be pushing him to do stupid things.”

He doesn’t say anything, and I take it as my cue to stand up and leave. “I’m really sorry, Ian. About everything.”

A brief nod of dismissal is all I get, and I feel as though my heart has swollen and is cutting off my air supply. With panting breaths, I race down the stairs of his building and out into the icy air, hoping that the snap of cold will ease the pain inside.

“How’d it go?” Noah asks when I walk in the door. He’s on the couch, but he has papers and folders spread out around him, the laptop balanced on his thighs. He takes one look at my tear-stained face and drops his head. “I’m sorry, Ells.”

I drape my coat over the coatrack and join him on the couch. “I didn’t expect it to go well.” I press my nails into my palm, anything to stem the tears that threaten at the back of my eyes. “I just didn’t think it would hurt this much.”

“I’d say ‘come here,’ but I don’t want you to get sick.” Noah looks at me sadly, his handsome face having a bit more color than earlier, but his voice still thick with his illness.

I shrug and curl into his side. He wraps his arms around me, letting me cry until I don’t think I have any tears left. He hands me tissues as needed, then flips on the television so we can watch the Buffy episode that Lux and I started last night. And we lie there for a few hours, watching television, numb to the world.

Eventually, though, I remember all the work I have to get done this week, and I push off the couch. “I should try to make something productive out of this day.”

“Is it worth it to try talking to him again?” he asks, his voice low.

I turn on my heel and stare at him. “You’re the one that said he’s a jerk and I shouldn’t trust him. That I was being gullible by seeing him.”

He closes his eyes as I recount his words back to him. “I know. I’m sorry. That was cruel of me to say. You aren’t gullible.”

“Yes, I am.” I sigh.

He shakes his head. “No, you believe in people. That’s not being gullible. That’s being awesome and being you. And you saw something in this guy that…what am I trying to say here?” he asks more of himself than me. He sits up and braces his arms on his knees. “Look, I hate what I did years ago. It’s embarrassing, and I’m humiliated that I stood by and let people get swindled and hurt. And I wouldn’t want to be judged by that, even though people will do it every time.”

Even your own sister.

“I’m not talking about you, sis,” he says as though I’ve spoken aloud. “You had to ask. Even if you didn’t want to. I know that. But everyone else will assume because of my record that I’m still that person. And I’m not. So all I’m saying is…maybe judging him harshly on one event isn’t fair. Maybe you should get the whole story.”

I shrug. “It doesn’t matter much anyway. I just told him his childhood friend is probably the culprit. That didn’t make him all that happy.”

Noah nods, raking a hand through his curls. “I bet not.”

“It’s okay.” With a sharp inhale, I shrug. “I learned something from all this. I had an incredible week, and maybe I’m ready to get back out there and live again, you know?”

He smiles, the slightest dimple forming in his cheek. “Good. And I quite agree.”

“So let’s get you better, and maybe I’ll join you next week when you paint the town.”

That makes him laugh, which then makes him cough. But at least there’s a connection between us again. It’s a small comfort, but for now, it’s enough.

CHAPTER 20

YOU WANNA BE A SUPERSTAR?

One Month Later

T
hank you for calling Elementary, the place where ‘who dunnit’ could end up being you. How can I help you?” Despite my brother’s laughter over my greeting, I enjoy saying it when I pick up the phone.

“Ella?”

My heart skips a beat, but after a second, I know the tone isn’t Ian’s. My disappointment soars, but I rally. “Yes?”

“It’s Mick Jeffries. I met you a few weeks back.”

“Of course! How are you?” It impresses me that he doesn’t just assume that I know who he is.

“I’m doing good. I’ve a lady to impress, and I thought having a whole show done for us might be the ticket.”

“You just want to know what happens next,” I tease, a bit breathless that Mick actually called himself. Didn’t he have assistants to do this kind of stuff?

He chuckles. “Caught in the act. You intrigued me with your show. I have to see the sequel. So what do you say? Could you whip up some magic to impress my lady?”