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“That’s not an option.” Anne scowled. “He was in prison, and I know he did everything they said, no matter what witchcraft his lawyers pulled. Even worse, his father? God. If I don’t trust William, I sure as hell don’t trust that man. Anthony Spencer is the worst crime lord in Europe.”
“Point. But still. William’s around now. What if he finds out?”
“Then, I take a cue from him and lie my ass off. He’s not the only tall, gorgeous man with golden hair in Vegas.”
Michelle laughed and nodded.
“And if he comes around—” Anne started.
“I won’t say anything.”
“I was going to say, don’t let him anywhere with you alone.”
Michelle flipped her hair. “Hey, he always liked me. He acted like I was his little sister.”
“He’s dangerous. No matter how nice he seems, he’s a criminal. I want you to be careful.”
“Fine, fine, Mom-face.” Michelle rolled her eyes and then flopped on her stomach to finish her homework.
Anne pointed at her with mock judgment before rising from the sofa to go put Evie to bed. As much as Michelle teased Anne about the “mom-face,” she had essentially been Michelle’s parent for almost six years now. Ever since their mother had died of cancer, the two of them had been on their own, and Anne had been determined to keep the two of them together. That meant getting a job, forgetting whatever she might have planned for her own life, and making sure no one could have a reason to take her little sister away from her.
Michelle had been young when their mother had passed, but not so young that she couldn’t take some responsibility for herself. It had been a challenge for Anne to go from an older sister to the single mom of a thirteen-year-old, but in the end, it had been worth it. No matter how stressful, even with the surprise addition of Evie, Anne’s family was her life. She would never do anything to jeopardize that.
Anne placed Evie into her bed, on her back, and locked the side rails into place. Evie, now slightly awake, caught Anne’s sleeve and murmured, indignantly, and without opening her eyes, “‘Mm, not sleepy, Mommy!”
“No?” Anne suppressed a laugh. “Well, obviously. Would you like me to read to you until you are?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Okay then. Snuggle in, and I’ll get you a book.” Anne looked through the books piled on Evie’s nightstand and selected one about a plucky narwhal that wanted to be a dolphin. “For all intents and porpoises,” Anne read. “This is a completely true story.”
Evie opened her e
yes and, holding onto her blanket, leaned over so she could see the pages. Anne was about seventy percent convinced that the girl was memorizing the stories because sometimes she would “read” them back to Michelle to impress her.
Damn brilliant kid.
***
“Bloody cops,” William muttered to himself. He stepped back into his shop and made motions as though he’d forgotten his jacket.
He could spot a tail from a mile away on a bad day, but the force must have cheaped out on training in the last couple of years because while they’d been ever-present since Anne had shown up accusing him of “murder most foul,” they’d barely made an effort not to be seen. It was more than irritating being followed everywhere. He’d expected they might tap his phones, too, if they hadn’t been so determined to nail him good and proper this time. He had half a mind to march up to the police station and demand that they take him out for dinner, first.
Ideally, Anne would do the honors, but he was a bit miffed at her for giving them his scent. No one else would’ve been so sharp to catch that the ring at the crime scene had been his. And it was all the more difficult to do business with police lurking around all the time.
On the outside, his business was Spencer’s Rare Books and Antiques. The deals he made on the side that were covered by importing and trading more mundane items, well, those were of the type that would’ve made dear old Dad proud. If he’d been bothering to talk to William since his arrest, that was. There were a lot of expectations, being the son of an international kingpin. A pity that these expectations never did William a damn bit of good.
“They’re right outside my door,” William said the moment his contact picked up.
“Are we still meeting tonight?”
“I don’t think I could possibly shake them. Puts a real damper on the evening, you know?” William leaned against a table and flicked a mote of dust from his vest. “We’ll have to have a bite some other time.”
“That’s disappointing.”
The voice on the other end was equally as British as his own, but a bit posher. William had never quite perfected the Received Pronunciation demanded of him when he’d been set off to school. As a result, his own accent was more inflected and less proper. He sort of liked it that way, sometimes. When in the right mood, he’d even play up the south London-ish bits. Seemed to make folks think he was a bit dangerous.
The fact that he could be, if he liked, probably helped that thought along.
