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“If it was socially acceptable, I would.” I matched her humor.
“May I?” She pointed to the chair across from me, and I nodded as I dabbed the corners of my mouth with the napkin. I noticed she had her hair and makeup freshly done. She must have caught me as she walked back from the hotel’s salon.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your time on what I would assume to be a busy evening?”
“I saw you come in earlier, and since I had everything done,” she waved her hands at herself with a smile, “I slipped over to pick your brain on something. I waited until it looked like you’d finished.” She smiled.
“Color me intrigued.” I waved the waiter over. “Another glass, please.” I pointed at my red wine, as I knew she also enjoyed J. Lohr.
“Thank you.” She smiled at me then pressed her lips together in thought. I studied her and waited. Kenna was a gorgeous woman, more mature looking than Calli. She had a reputation for having a strong backbone in both her personal life and in business. She was in a predominantly male world with the life her father subjected her to, and she’d shown countless times that she could hold her own in it. It was rather attractive.
“Are you hungry?” I felt the need to offer.
“No, I’m just stalling.” She chuckled, and although her eyes lit up, her face told me something was up. “At the risk of stepping over a line, I’m going to ask you something. I know we aren’t close, and a huge part of that is because your interests lay with two people I try to avoid.” She shrugged and smiled as her hand unconsciously rubbed her throat. It drew my gaze, and I noticed a faint marking on her neck. Is that a hickey? “Look, is my father going to be okay?” She blurted this as her eyes went to my face.
“Okay?” I repeated, my mind still on the hickey. I wondered who she’d been with.
“Yes, okay.” She paused, and I could feel her study me. “The situation with Trigger.” Her brows went up.
Oh! I finally got what she’d been worried about. “Yes, he’s willing to help him out.” My mind went immediately to the deal I made, and it made my stomach drop.
“That’s good.” She seemed to relax some, and I honed back in on her slender neck. I found myself picturing someone kissing her from her jaw down to that very spot… “What did he want?”
“Who killed Martin Castillo.” I paused and blinked at my own admission. What the hell! My eyes flew to her face and her surprised expression at my answer. Oh, shit.
“Who on earth is that?”
“My apologies, Kenna. That shouldn’t have slipped out of my mouth.” Cameron might actually kill me.
The waiter set the glass of wine down on the table, and she picked it up and took a long sip. The way her lips formed around the rim of the glass drew me in and hypnotized me. I had to force myself to look away. I hadn’t had a one on one with her before and now understood the magnetism many felt around her.
“Was he a client of my father’s?”
“No.” I shook my head then popped a potato in my mouth needing something to keep it busy.
“Then why would his death be so important that he’d needed to talk to Trigger?”
“I’m sorry, Kenna, I can’t.”
“Well, Simon, this can go two ways.” She dug her heels in. “I can start digging and pull my many resources to find out who this guy is, or I can ask my father. You can save a call from Cameron once he finds out you dropped the ball and told me.”
“I don’t do well with threats, Kenna.” I leaned back and tossed my napkin on my plate. I searched my brain for how to fix this.
“And I don’t do well when I only get part of a story. My father asked me for help, I gave it to him, and now I want to know exactly why my help was needed.”
Fuck.
“If I tell you, that means you’re getting involved in your father’s business.” I tried a different tact.
“What makes you think I’m not already in it?” She put her elbows on the table and leaned toward me. Something dark ran over her face, and I wondered exactly what Kenna Lodge knew about what her father had going on. I couldn’t imagine her being all right with it if she really knew the truth.
I tapped a nail on my wine glass and chose my words carefully. I hoped I wasn’t about to crack the lid on Pandora’s box.
“Martin Castillo was a Mexican drug lord in Rosarito. He was very dangerous, unpredictable, and dumb as a post. Trouble is he was getting tangled up in some business of Cameron’s?—”
“What kind of business?”
“Client stuff.” I kept it vague, but she gave me a look, and I went on. “He was supposed to take the fall for one of Cameron’s clients but wound up dead instead.” I skirted around some major details.
