Who Do You Love (Rock Royalty Book 7) (17 page)

Later that morning, the situation still rolled around in his head like an unbalanced barrel as he pointed his car southward. Cami clicked into his mood right away and closed her eyes and napped during the ride back to Malibu—or at least she pretended to nap.

The pretense was good enough that when he pulled into the garage she blinked at him drowsily even as she exited the car and followed him to the door into the house. He reached out to insert his key, then noticed the door itself wasn’t latched.

What the fuck?

Ice flooded his veins, and the fire ants scrambled over his skin.

“Get in the car,” he said to Cami under his breath. “Get in the car and lock all the doors.”

He didn’t have a gun on him this time. The one he sometimes carried in the car had been locked in his safe in the house for the trip. But he had a rage that would suit him just fine as a weapon.

Placing his hand on the flat of the door, he pushed it open.

Cami sat frozen in the car, her gaze locked on the door Eamon had disappeared through. What was going on? What was she supposed to do next?

Then he was there, holding the door opened and gesturing to her, his expression hard, his curling fingers impatient.

She hopped out. “What’s happened?”

He took her by the elbow as she mounted the steps and pulled her inside.

“I want you to check and see if anything of yours is missing,” he said, his voice low in her ear as he towed her across the hallway. “I found a visitor in the guest bedroom.”

A woman stood by the end of the bed, her hands tightly clasped together at her waist. Fortyish, Cami supposed, and the stranger had a familiar silhouette—zero body fat, arm muscles beyond toned to tough, all girlishness given way to gristle.

Cami had her morning walks, but she took spin and Pilates in the studios that were SoCal staples too, and she’d seen this type. The lady’s blonde hair was professionally streaked, her bright pink nails newly manicured, and her eyelashes extended, even though she was casually dressed in pastel yoga pants and a matching top that draped low at her throat to reveal the beginning swells of stupendously-sized breasts.

“I’m Cami Colson,” she said, glancing at Eamon whose frown hadn’t abated. “A, um, friend of Eamon’s.”

“Veronica Healy,” the lady responded, darting her own look at their host. “Um…”

“Veronica’s husband Grant was that client I mentioned to you,” he said. “The reason I have this house.”

“And you’ve done wonders with it,” Veronica gushed.

“All new inside,” Eamon said evenly, “since you removed everything including the kitchen sink.”

But left the odd foodstuffs in the garage
, Cami thought. Maybe that predilection belonged to “Grant,” the man Eamon and his partner had defended for some kind of white-collar crime.

“I know I was supposed to leave the contents of the house,” Veronica said, her white knuckles betraying her nervousness. “But the Century City condo’s furnishings were looking shabby…”

“It’s all right, Veronica,” Eamon said on a sigh. “What’s not all right is breaking in to what’s now
my
home.”

“But I didn’t break in!”

“No?” Eamon crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me how you’re here.”

“I still have a set of keys.” She gestured to the bed, where a ring of them sat on the duvet. “And the passcode was the same.”

“Shit,” he said, sounding disgusted, and Cami figured that was aimed at himself. “Okay, but how did you get past the guardhouse?”

“Well…” She smiled, briefly revealing a dazzling mouthful of veneers. “I know where the public access to the beach is and when the tides make it available. This used to be our weekend place, after all.”

Eamon didn’t look any more pleased by that revelation. “You said you were looking for some jewelry you left behind.”

Veronica nodded. “Yes. Well, might have left behind. I just can’t seem to find some pieces, so I thought they might have…I don’t know…”

“Fallen behind the vanity in the guest bathroom?”

She shrugged. “Or maybe in a crack in the closet? I just had to check.”

“Without calling.”

“You’re such a busy man.” Her face took on a coy expression that she’d probably perfected at five. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“It bothered the hell out of me to find someone in my house while I was out, Veronica.”

She batted her eyelash extensions. “I apologize. Truly.”

“Okay.” He rolled his shoulders as if trying to shrug off tension. “We better search together and see if they can be found.” His gaze shifted to Cami and he sent her a meaningful look.
I want you to check and see if anything of yours is missing.
“Cami will look around in here, and you and I will take the rest of the house.”

With a nod, Veronica grabbed her key ring from the bed and preceded Eamon from the room.

It took Cami no time at all to see that the small number of things she’d left before their trip up the coast were undisturbed. Perhaps rearranged—her weekly leave-in hair conditioner on a different shelf in the bathroom, her guitar shifted from one easy chair in the sitting area to another—but not missing or damaged.

Since it seemed from the conversation that all the furniture was new, she didn’t bother looking behind chair cushions or running her hand between the mattress and box springs. Instead, she wandered out to the living area of the house where Eamon watched Veronica make what seemed a rather perfunctory inspection of the environs.

“And how is everything going with you, Eamon?’ the older woman asked, as if she was sipping a cocktail at a party and not running her hand along windowsills.

“The usual,” he said. “Have you visited Grant recently?”

“The facility is quite nice, all things considered.”

He nodded. “Minimum security prisons can be.”

“There’s a well-stocked library, and he’s joined a bocce ball team. He tells me he’s swimming nearly every day.” She noticed Cami now and flashed her a quick smile. “My husband’s housed in a federal prison camp in Oregon. There’s a charming inn nearby where many visitors choose to stay.”

“Oh. That’s, um, convenient.”

“Speaking of prison,” Veronica said, fingertips sliding along the top of the mantel as if her missing items might have buried themselves in the aged-wood ledge, “how is your cousin faring, Eamon?”

He stilled. “Wick?”

“I heard he’s in some trouble.”

His eyes narrowed. “How do you know Wick?”

“Why you introduced him to me. In your offices.”

Eamon visibly relaxed. “Right. When I had the mistaken idea he might be able to do some errand work for the firm.”

“Yes. I saw him there and then again...” Turning away from the fireplace she frowned—or she would have if her Botoxed forehead could make such a move—then sighed. “I guess it doesn’t matter where. I remember him telling me that he was living with you here at the time.”

Next, the older woman’s gaze ran about the room, as if seeking out more places to search. There was an increasingly desperate air about her that made Cami wish she’d stayed in the guest bedroom.

She cleared her throat, feeling awkward. “Shall I help you look?”

“No, no.” The older woman sighed. “I think I’m going to have to accept it’s a lost cause.”

“That’s too bad,” Cami replied. “If you want to describe the pieces for me, I can contact you…” But she let that drift off because she wasn’t going to be around the Malibu house much longer herself. That was the conclusion she’d come to overnight.

“It’s all right,” Veronica said on another sigh. She crossed to the kitchen island and swooped up the set of keys she must have placed on the granite. “I won’t take up any more of your time.”

Eamon walked toward her. “Veronica—”

“I’ll show myself out.”

“Let me walk you past the guardhouse and through the gate to your car,” he said. “But I’ll take the key to the house first.”

“Oh, of course.” She flushed and fumbled with the ring.

“Let me do that,” Eamon said, holding out his hand. “And I’ll be changing the passcode, by the way. If you want to visit again you’ll need to call me first.”

“Certainly. Yes.” Biting her lip, she watched Eamon remove two keys. “I didn’t realize I had a pair of them.”

He didn’t respond, just passed the remainder of them over and pocketed the two he’d removed. “Ready?” he asked, already moving toward the front entrance.

“Yes,” Veronica said, following him. Then she looked over her shoulder, her smile this time much less brilliant. “Um, nice to meet you.”

Cami offered her own half-smile and lifted her hand in a wave. When the door shut behind them she sprang into action. By the time Eamon returned to the house, she’d have her things gathered, and she’d convince him it was time for them to separate…for good.

No matter what, she still had to protect her heart, and playing stranger games was not the way to go about it.

First she retrieved her bag from the car and then rushed about the bedroom to stuff the remainder of her belongings inside. In the living area, she glanced about, looking for any item that might have migrated in that direction. The rooms appeared Cami-free.

Her phone rang, the tone signaling a call from her brother. She slipped the device from her pocket and stepped onto the balcony, glancing around as she answered. “Hey, Payne.”

“What the hell’s going on?”

Her brows flew up, and she perched on the edge of one lounger. “Um, hello to you, too, dear sibling.”

“What’s going on?” he demanded again.

She frowned. Ren exuded a brooding intensity. While Payne was driven, too, the blond man usually hid it behind an unruffled exterior. Now he sounded…well, rattled. Possibly angry.

“I don’t understand.”

He huffed out a breath. “I had a—a situation. I called Ren to tell him about it, and your name came up. He mentioned you were out of town with your friend Laurie. You told me your R&R jaunt companion was Robin.”

“Oh.”

How hare-brained of her not to keep her stories straight. Just something else to blame on Eamon. But as soon as she was out from under his influence—today—her mind would clear. Her life would be her own.

Just then, the man in question stepped onto the balcony, looking insanely handsome as always, and two words her brother had said finally sank in.

“Wait.” She frowned. “Situation? What situation?”

Her brother hesitated.

“
Payne
? What situation?”

“Where are you now? I went by your house—”

“I’m not staying there at the moment, but I’m not that far, either. Do you need me to—”

“I don’t want you back at the salvage yard,” he said. “We’re closing for a few days.”

Okay, this was just weird. “Tell me what’s going on,” she insisted, glancing over at Eamon. He stood, braced against the balcony railing, all his attention on her.

He looked alert and concerned and, yes, still insanely handsome.

“I don’t want to alarm you,” Payne began.

Cami’s spine shot straight. “That’s not reassuring me.”

Eamon started forward, and she held out her hand to keep him back.

“All right,” her brother said in a frustrated tone, and she imagined him forking his hand through his blond hair. “There was an explosion at one of the salvage yards—your yard.”

“What?” She jumped to her feet. “What kind of explosion?”

Before her brother could reply, her phone was plucked from her hand and Eamon had it pressed to his own ear. His other arm came around her shoulders, hugging her close.

“Payne?” he said. “You’ve got Eamon Rooney. Cami’s been staying with me.”

Even from a distance, Cami could hear her brother’s heated outburst. Eamon’s expression didn’t change, he just stoically bore her brother’s rant. When Payne seemed to wind down, Eamon spoke again.

“We can get into that later,” he said. “Right now I’m concerned about this explosion you mentioned to Cami. Where, when, why.”

His calm but determined demeanor seemed to pacify her brother. His voice quieted enough that she couldn’t hear the words from where she stood in the curve of Eamon’s arm. But she knew the facts weren’t reassuring because his hold on her tightened.

“I have an idea of what’s going on,” Eamon said into the phone. “And yeah, I do bear some of the responsibility.”

She frowned up at him. That wasn’t true. He wasn’t accountable for his cousin’s actions.

“All right,” Eamon said. “I agree. But for now I have her in a safe place—a guard house, an excellent alarm system—and I’ll keep her here.”

What?
They were supposed to separate today! Plucking at his sleeve, she shook her head.

Eamon ignored her. “You have my word no harm will come to her.” Then he handed over the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”

She snatched it up. “Payne—”

“Are you okay?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“He’s bringing you by tomorrow night. Don’t be late.”

Grr.
He was treating her as if she was ten years old again. “Come on, Payne. I need to know what’s going on.”

“Get your good buddy Eamon—”

“He’s not my good buddy.” She didn’t look at him.

“I did a little digging after the motorcycle show. He’s good enough…for now.”

Heat rushed up her neck. “That wasn’t your business.”

“You can yell at me tomorrow.” Payne hung up.

“Ah!” she said, for a moment considering throwing the phone over the balcony. “He’s maddening.”

“But he cares a lot about you,” Eamon said. He took her by both forearms and drew her down to the lounger, both of them sitting side-by-side. “And he has reason to worry.”

She stilled, her gaze searching his serious face. Her heart started to pound. “Tell me.”

“Somebody threw a Molotov cocktail at the motorcycle salvage yard’s office this morning.”

Her eyes rounded. “My office?”

“Your office.” He glanced away, then looked back at her. “The security camera caught a biker driving off, his cut inside out so the colors weren’t showing.”

Meaning the culprit was likely trying to hide the identifying MC patches on his leather vest. Cami swallowed as a chill swept over her skin. “Yikes,” she said faintly.