The Right Kind of Trouble (21 page)

He hadn't had any personal run-ins with Hayes, but Gideon knew he'd seen the man's name on a couple of hot sheets and there had been more than a few
official
BOLOs, too.

He didn't entirely manage to stay so serene when she told him about her visit from the IRS—yet one more strike from the McKays still faceless enemy.

It was all cold, calculated, planned, small, focused digs on various fronts. It made him think that somebody had decided to wage a war of sorts, a silent one. The most deadly sort, because how could they fight back without knowing who their enemy was?

“So. That's one of the reasons I'm going over everything Kevin had his hands on … or what I could dig up in a short amount of time.” Moira gave him a tired smile. “The other reason…”

When her words trailed off, Gideon finished. He'd already pieced it together. There had been references in her notes about the Bittner project, so he hadn't needed to think too hard. “Zeke.”

Her full lips compressed to a tight line. “He handled the whole deal. I want to know
why
. He overpaid for it, using company funds for a place we're not even
using,
and he screwed some guy over in the process.”

She went to pick up the phone again.

Gideon caught her wrist. “Is he the one you keep calling?”

“Yes.”

When she tugged against his grip, he just lifted her hand to his lips and nibbled on her knuckles. “If I make a deal with you, will you agree to let this go for a while?”

“That would depend on the deal,” she said, her eyes dark with suspicion.

That was his Mac, all right.

“I've got some friends in the department in Jackson. I'll make some calls, see if they can swing by your man's place, just to check on him.” He cocked a brow. “They can't compel him to call, but I get the feeling you're not just pissed. You're getting worried.”

Moira sniffed. “He had a leg-breaker in my place of business. Nothing to stop somebody from showing up at his house. And I'd rather know what's going on before he ends up with his leg—or neck—broken.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He flicked his tongue at the sensitive area between her fingers, watched her lashes flutter. “And … after dinner … I'll drive you up to the house. The one that started all this mess. After all, you own it.”

“And why would I want to go there?” A shiver raced through her and he had to remind himself that dinner was going to be done in ten minutes. If he started doing what he really wanted to do—and that involved stripping her naked and pulling her into his lap—then the food would burn.

“Because you want to know what the deal was.” He shrugged, crooking a grin at her. “I know you, Mac. There's a part of you that is just eaten up with wanting to know the
why
.”

A faint smile curled her lips. “Deal.”

“Will you let me know what happens with the IRS thing?”

“Yeah.” She huffed out a breath, rubbing at her neck as her eyes drifted away.

He didn't think she was looking at anything in particular. Just … staring, thinking.

Because he wanted her thoughts on him, he leaned in and kissed her.

Later was soon enough for them both to go back to brooding on their unknown enemy—and it was
their
enemy. The man had fucked with the McKays—had fucked with
Moira
.

That meant he'd made an enemy of Gideon Marshall.

*   *   *

When she called again, Kevin had to fight the urge to answer.

He'd always sort of liked Moira McKay, had wished he had the balls to ask her out, but she was sort of … icy. Elegant, but icy. Remote. He thought maybe that was the very thing he had liked about her. Of course, she was a fair boss and she'd treated him well.

That didn't mean he'd been opposed to screwing with her, when the plan was put before him, especially once he understood
why
.

But that had been back before all the crazy shit started to happen. It seemed to Kevin that the son of a bitch thought Kevin was stupid enough to believe it was all coincidence.

“Coincidence, my ass.” His voice echoed in the big, old log cabin. It was a pretty old house, one that desperately needed updating, but he still didn't understand why he'd risked his job to secure this place. Kevin had also spent the past few years burying the paperwork and hoping nobody would connect it to him.

Everything was coming back to bite him, and he had only one person to thank for it—that crazy cousin of his.

He hadn't believed him at first—hadn't believed any of the shit the man had told him. But he'd sounded so … logical. He'd had proof.

Everything they have … it should have been ours. Yours, mine.

The man had found Kevin when he'd been at his absolute worst, nearly a hundred thousand in debt to a loan shark and the idea that he had money coming—

The phone rang
again
and Kevin grabbed it with the intention of hurling against the wall. If she kept calling—

But it wasn't Moira McKay.

It was him.

Kevin's cousin. Reluctantly, he answered, knowing it wasn't wise to delay talking to the man.

“There was some excitement at your place of employ today, Kevin.”

The cool voice came through as clearly as if he'd been standing in the room with Kevin and out of nervous habit, Kevin tossed a look back over his shoulder.

But he was alone.

In the distance he could hear a dog barking, and he shuddered. All those dogs …

He hated dogs, had had a passionate fear of them ever since he'd been attacked by a stray when he was a boy. Still, the occasional bark was enough to tell him everything was calm, everything was quiet.

“Was there?” Kevin managed to keep his reply level. “I'm afraid I had to leave early. Had some bad sushi at lunch, I think. Food poisoning … it's the worst.”

“I wouldn't know.” The line was silent a moment. “Somebody showed up looking for you. A Mr. Hayes…?”

Kevin passed a hand over his sweaty forehead. Yeah, he knew. The calls left on his voicemail … they hadn't all been from Moira McKay.

“Well, too bad you weren't there, but I suspect you can find out what the problem was when you return to work on Monday. You'll have a nice, long weekend to rest up—a bit of a bank holiday, yes?”

Kevin licked his lips. “Ah … well. I suppose. Although I'm not sure if I'll have much of a job left after I go in Monday, man. Moira—I mean, Ms. McKay wants to speak with me. I think … I think she knows what I've been doing.”

“Really. What a terrible shame.”

But Kevin didn't think he was telling his cousin anything the man didn't already know.

The sweat beading on his brow, dripping down his nape, began to go cold. “Yes, well … I'm sort of thinking … I dunno, but it might be a good idea to lay low for a few days. Just stay out of sight. See, if Hayes is looking for me, he'll just keep looking. If I'm gone a while and then show back up … well, you know what a softie Moira is under all that bitch exterior. I'll come up with something, make her think I had to hide a while.”

“Perhaps. Hmm. Yes, perhaps you should.”

The call ended a few minutes later.

Kevin didn't waste any time punching in Moira McKay's cell phone number.

After she'd called him so many times tonight, he had it memorized.

But before it rang the first time, he disconnected.

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“You're sure this is … never mind.”

When she spoke, Frost lifted her head and poked her nose between the seats from the back of the cab. This time, Moira managed not to jump in surprise.

The dog was so big, but so quiet.

She reached up and buried her fingers in the thick ruff of fur at the dog's neck before looking at the house she could just now make out through the thinning trees. As Frost leaned into her ministrations, Moira managed a casual look down at her phone.

No new messages.

Two hours and twenty minutes ago, Kevin Towers had texted her.

He'd told her he wanted to speak to her.

She'd asked why, keeping an eye on Gideon out of the corner of her eye as he went about cleaning up. She'd argued and told him she would, but he told her that would be her last chance to deal with paperwork, since it was dark in the car and she owed him the rest of the night.

“This is the place,” Gideon said easily, eying the shadowy outline of a house. “Somebody left the lights on.”

“Security measure?”

He grunted as he threw the truck into park.

She felt bad not telling him about the few texts Kevin had sent, but she knew her cop. He wouldn't want to come out here if he knew Kevin was here. He'd be worried Kevin was up to something. But while she was pissed off at Kevin's embezzlement, she knew the man well enough to know he didn't have a violent bone in his body.

He was, in fact, a chicken shit coward.

He'd known Landon Hayes would be looking for him, he'd admitted in the text. He'd been sleeping in hotels the past week, dodging him, and Hayes had gotten impatient.

Kevin had seen him lingering around the parking lot when he came in so he'd decided to leave.

Leaving everybody else there to deal with the mess.

Moira wanted to punch him.

But she'd do it after she had answers.

“Moira…”

The low, rough sound of Gideon's voice made her shiver, and she turned her head.

He leaned toward her.

Instinctively, she echoed his movements.

And then she squawked and shoved at him, trying to grab back the phone he'd just swiped out of her hand.

“Give me that.”

“Sure. In a minute.” Gideon's quick, nimble fingers held her at a distance as he tapped at the screen. Thanks to the glow, she knew exactly when he found the messages.

She should have deleted them.

His eyes narrowed and came up, meeting her over the phone.

“He's here?” he asked, voice silky.

“Yes.”

“And you were just going to merrily walk in there … and let me walk in there. Without telling me.”

“No.” Huffing out a breath, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the window. “I planned to tell you as soon as we got out of the truck, Gideon.”

“And why should I believe you, Mac?”

Stung, she jerked her head, but he was gazing toward the house, his face unreadable. “Because I don't lie to you.”

He made a derisive snort. “You've lied to me for the past eighteen years. Maybe not in words, but in deeds, in actions.”

“That's different.” Huskily, she murmured, “I can't apologize enough so I'm not going to try. I would undo if I could, but since I can't…”

Gideon heaved out a harsh sigh.

In the dark cab, their gazes locked.

“I have to talk to him,” she said, her voice pleading.

“He's a criminal. He could be dangerous.”

“Oh, please. Ms. Mouton is more dangerous than this guy. I
know
him, Gideon.”

“Then why didn't you realize he was embezzling?” Eyes sharp, he waited for an answer.

She flicked a hand through the air. “That's not the kind of thing I'm talking about. This guy is a coward. Chances are if you showed him your gun, he'd pass out. I saw him almost puke when somebody cut their finger in the break room.”

Gideon's lips twitched, but he shook his head. “That doesn't mean much. He's scared. People do weird things when cornered.”

“Then don't corner him.” She jerked open the door a split second before he realized what she was going to do. Hopping out of the truck, she whistled softly to Frost.

Gideon swore.

She stared in at him, the faint glow from the dome light highlighting the irritation in his eyes. After a moment, she shut the door. The dome light came on again almost immediately as he opened his door and climbed out. She heard the solid thuds of his boots on the ground as he came around and stopped in front of her.

“You and I are going to talk about this,” he said, voice taut.

“Okay.”

He leaned in and curved a hand around her neck, tugging her in closer. “You and I are going to talk about a lot of things.”

“Oh … okay.” She licked her lips. He went to lower his hand, but she caught his wrist. “You're not … Gideon, please tell me you haven't decided you're going to leave anyway. We can make this work, I know we can.”

“I spent a long time fooling myself, Moira. I'm done with it.”

With an ache in her chest that threatened to split her open, she whispered, “What does that mean?”

“It means just that. If you want me, then this is it. You know how I feel. I can't make it any plainer, but I can't let you rip my heart out anymore.” He turned away and she watched, oddly numb as he reached inside his leather coat and pulled out …

“Shit. Is that a
gun
?” She gaped.

“I am a cop, remember?” He checked it with a quick competency she found oddly compelling.

“You had that on you this whole time? But … you're off duty.”

“I'm a cop.”

Apparently that was his answer.

She lunged after him when he took a step toward the house. “You might be a cop, but I'm a McKay. I came here for answers. He's screwing with my company, pal. That doesn't mean I want you waving your weapon around like some … some … some phallic symbol.”

“Phallic symbol?” Brow winging up, he looked down at her, expression a mix of amusement and aggravation. “It's not a symbol. It's a weapon. Again, I'm a cop. He's a criminal. You might insist he's nonviolent, but he wouldn't be the first nonviolent person to snap. I'm not taking chances.”