Deadly Questions (Hardy Brothers Security Book 8) (2 page)

Grady fought to keep his face neutral. “Peter?”

“Yeah. He just pulled into the driveway.”

Grady was calm as he got to his feet, extending his hand so his nervous girlfriend could take it. “Let’s go and get him,” he said. “The party can’t start until he’s here.”

The relief – and thanks – that washed over Sophie’s face was enough to make Grady’s heart flop. As much as Peter Marconi’s presence in their lives was a nuisance, he would do anything to give Sophie comfort and solace. If this was what it took to make Sophie happy, Grady was willing to swallow his pride and give it to her.

“Come on, sugar,” he said, tugging her hand. “Let’s not keep your father waiting.”

“I have to say, this house is just as delightful as I remember it,” Peter said, pushing his hand forward so James could shake it before settling in the chair across from him on the patio.

“That’s because we just spent three weeks living elsewhere while everything was repainted,” James said. “Since most of the furniture hadn’t even arrived yet, I guess it wasn’t a total loss. I only had to go furniture shopping once to replace everything.”

Peter smirked. James’ disdain of picking out furniture with his beloved wife was well known. Despite how vocal the young man was about it, Peter had a hard time believing he would shirk the duty – even if he could. Any time James got to share with his wife was treasured. After spending a year observing the way the Hardy family – and those they loved – interacted, Peter was convinced complaining was just a natural conversational progression.

“So, you’re officially back in?” Peter asked.

“We moved back yesterday,” James replied.

“You must be happy to be back.”

“We never got a chance to get used to the place the first time,” James admitted. “We were only here for two weeks before the shit hit the fan. It’s just like starting from scratch.”

“And how does Mandy feel about starting from scratch?”

James shrugged. “She seems fine. I was worried at first. People broke into our home and tried to kill her. She didn’t wake up at all last night.”

“And do you know that because you were up all night watching her to make sure she slept?” Peter pressed.

James stilled. “I might have watched her a little.”

Peter smiled, delighted. “Ah, young love.”

Sophie giggled as she sat down in the chair next to Peter. “So, how are things for you? I haven’t gotten to see you in almost two weeks.”

Sophie was well aware of what her foster father did for a living. As a reporter, she was in a precarious position. If Peter were to ever be arrested and charged, Sophie would be forced to report on it. Since Peter seemed smarter than the bulk of Macomb County’s law enforcement contingency, that didn’t look to be an immediate concern.

For his part, Peter was careful not to talk about his work when Sophie was present. He wasn’t particularly ashamed of what he did, but he didn’t want any of his actions to blow back on the only person who had ever mattered to him.

“I was in New York,” Peter said. “I had a few business items to shore up.”

“Oh,” Sophie said. “I’ve always wanted to go to New York. I bet it’s fun in the summer.”

“It’s hot and humid,” Peter said. “New York is much prettier in the winter. If you and Grady ever get a chance to go, make sure it’s in the winter. There’s nothing more romantic than a carriage ride through Central Park when there’s just a smattering of snow on the ground.”

“That sounds lovely,” Sophie admitted.

Grady studied his girlfriend’s profile. She looked so earnest. He made a mental note to start researching trip packages for New York. It was the middle of summer, but winter wasn’t too far off. A couple of days in a nice hotel – with a nice hot tub – would be enough to keep Sophie smiling for months. And, when Sophie was smiling, so was Grady.

“When I returned, I found the invitation to James’ birthday party waiting for me on the counter,” Peter said. “I was surprised to see it, to say the least.”

“We owe you a lot,” James said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs at the ankles. “You kept my wife safe.”

“Your wife, along with my daughter and your sister, kept themselves safe,” Peter countered.

“Without your men, Jake would have died,” James pressed. “I have no doubt about that. Plus, we have no idea how long the sight of your men at the front and back of the house kept people away. You kept us safe. You’re a part of this family. Let’s not make a big deal over it.”

Peter’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “You have a way with words.”

“Yeah, he’s a real pain,” Ally agreed, pushing past James so she could settle in an open chair next to the table. “So, what’s up? Have you shot anyone in the kneecaps lately?”

“Ally,” Grady warned. A quick glance at Peter told him that the alleged mobster was delighted with Ally’s question – and moxie. There wasn’t a trace of anger on his face.

“I haven’t had to do that in a few decades,” Peter replied, chuckling. “I do have a situation I would like to run past you – all of you – though.”

James shifted in his chair. “And what would that be?”

Peter glanced around the party. “Are you sure you want to do it now?”

“I’d rather do it now,” James said. “Once Mandy gives me my birthday gift, we’re going to be expected to ‘ooh’ and ‘ah’ over it all night. It’s better to discuss things now.”

“Very well,” Peter said, steepling his fingers as he rested his hands on his lap. “Are you aware of the situation on the Ambassador Bridge?”

James stilled, surprised. “What situation?”

“I’ll take that as a no,” Peter said, his face grim. “When I returned home earlier this week, I got an update from a … friend … at the border. He’s a security agent.”

“He works border patrol?” Grady asked.

“Yes,” Peter replied.

“Members of your organization work border patrol?” Grady pressed.

“Grady,” Sophie said, poking him in the side. “I don’t think … .”

Peter held up his hand to stymie his foster daughter. “It’s quite all right, my dear. I understand his curiosity. No one on my payroll works border patrol. I have friends who provide information for a fee who work border patrol.”

James made a face. “Paid snitches.”

“Yes. Anyway, this friend informed me of a situation,” Peter said. “I wasn’t aware of it myself. I’ve thought about this all week, and I’m not sure whom else to broach the situation with. I’m not saying that I expect you to do anything,” Peter cautioned. “I would like to hear your ideas.”

Everyone waited for Peter to continue.

“Five women who work the area near the bridge have gone missing in the last two months,” Peter said.

“I haven’t heard anything about that,” Sophie said. “That would be big news. I think your friend must be mistaken.”

Peter’s face softened as he regarded her. “These aren’t the type of women who are missed by a lot of people.”

“What does that mean?”

Grady rubbed Sophie’s knee. “He means they’re prostitutes, sugar.”

Sophie stilled. “Oh.”

“How do you know they’re missing?” James asked. “That’s a high-turnover profession. Maybe they just got tired of turning tricks and ran?”

“That happens,” Peter agreed. “I don’t believe that’s what happened in this case, though.”

“Why?”

“I’m not going to pretend that the men who organize the labor in this field … .”

“You mean pimps,” Grady prodded.

“Yes, Grady,” Peter said, exasperated. “I was referring to pimps. Anyway, I don’t believe that they are good men. I don’t believe they’re men who want to protect the women they employ. I don’t believe they’re decent human beings who are misunderstood.

“I do believe, however, that they’re men who want to turn a profit,” Peter continued. “These men can’t turn a profit if their employees run. They can’t turn a profit if their employees disappear. If they can’t turn a profit, then they’re not very good businessmen, are they?”

Grady made a face. “Let me guess, your friend on the Ambassador Bridge also accepts fees for looking the other way when a prostitute crosses the border?”

“I have no specific knowledge of that,” Peter said. “As I’ve told you before, I keep my fingers out of the sex trade. It’s too much work, and too much hassle. In addition, I find the whole thing tacky.”

Grady forced his shoulders to relax. Becoming aggressive with Peter wasn’t going to help anyone. It might even hurt Sophie, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Still,” Grady said. “Five workers out of – there must be thousands of streetwalkers in Detroit these days – that doesn’t seem like a lot.”

“All five women were young,” Peter said.

“How young?” James queried.

“Young enough to be worth a lot of money to their employers,” Peter replied.

“You mean they were teenagers,” Sophie said, exhaling heavily.

“I mean they were young women,” Peter clarified.

“And we’re sure they’re missing?” James asked.

“They appear to be,” Peter replied.

“Why did your friend come to you?”

“He wanted to know if I had heard anything through my other dealings,” Peter said. “I hadn’t. Like I said, this was all news to me. Even though I don’t have a dog in the fight, something about this bothers me. That’s why I decided to discuss it with you.”

“And what do you think?” James asked.

“I think there could be a predator out there,” Peter said. “That area is desperately run down. If there is a predator – sexual or otherwise – that would be an easy hunting ground.”

“And we’re talking about at-risk girls who no one will miss,” James mused.

“Just like my Sophie could have been,” Peter said, his voice soft as he looked upon his foster daughter fondly.

The chill that had been crowding Grady’s heart where Peter was concerned thawed. Grady had never believed Peter when he said he refused to join the sex-trade business. It never made sense to him because of the money involved. Peter was – above all else – a businessman. What Grady had forgotten was that there was one thing more important to Peter than his business – and that thing was Sophie. Since Sophie was a product of the system, she would have been at greater risk to fall off the grid and be forced into the type of situation that propelled young women into prostitution as a means to survive.

That’s why Peter wasn’t involved in the sex trade, Grady realized. He couldn’t bear the thought of anyone doing something like that to Sophie, so he refrained.

“What do you want us to do?” James asked.

“Just keep your ear to the ground,” Peter said. “I’m not sure there is anything to do – but if someone is hunting women, I don’t care if others think they’re throwaways, I want it stopped. No one is a throwaway to me.”

“They’re not to us either,” James said. “We’ll ask around, starting tomorrow.”

“Just send me a bill with your usual rate,” Peter said.

“That won’t be necessary,” James said. “We’re all going to work this together. We don’t need a fee.”

Peter stilled. “I don’t know that I feel right about that.”

“Well, that’s the offer,” James said. “Take it or leave it.”

Peter sighed, giving in. “I’ll take it.”

“That’s good,” James said. “I’d hate to have to fight you on my birthday. I don’t think my wife would be very happy about it.”

“Speaking of your wife,” Peter said. “She’s heading this way. I think she’s finally ready to unveil your birthday present.”

“Good,” James said. “I’ve been dying to see this thing since she told me about it. I hope the table can live up to the hype.”

“Oh, it will,” Ally said, her eyes sparkling. “You have no idea what she’s done in there.”

James’ eyes narrowed. “And you do?”

“I helped her do it.”

“Wait … is there something else in there besides the table?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Ally said, darting out of James’ reach as she jogged to the guesthouse and waited for him by the door.

Mandy insisted on covering James’ eyes, which made walking into the room difficult. When she finally had him in the position she wanted, she dropped her hands. “Surprise.”

Peter watched James’ face with a mixture of curiosity and delight as he took in the gift. While a purple pool table wasn’t something Peter found himself longing for, James Hardy was obviously the opposite. The table his wife had designed for him fit into their kitschy saloon. The purple felt of the game table matched the purple felt of the poker table across the room perfectly – tying the room together. And above the pool table? The light Mandy had worked so hard to perfect for her husband was so charming that even Peter was moved by the three silhouettes.

James stared at the light, befuddled. “Where did you get that?”

“I had it made,” Mandy said, studying his face seriously. “I … you don’t like it, do you?”

“What?” James snapped his head in his wife’s direction. “Why would you say that?”

“You don’t look happy,” Mandy said. “I thought you would like the lamp. I’m sorry. I screwed it up. You said you wanted to pick out your own lamp. You don’t have to keep this one. You can still pick out your own.”

James sighed, reaching over and capturing his wife’s hand in his. “I love the lamp.”

Mandy raised her eyes hopefully. “You do?”

“I just can’t believe you did it,” James said. “It’s … it’s amazing.”

“I just thought it would be fun.”

“It’s definitely fun,” James said, reaching up so he could run his fingers over the glass. “It’s … amazing. You’re amazing, baby.” James leaned down and pressed his lips to his wife’s nervous mouth. “This is the best thing – other than you – that I’ve ever gotten.”