She couldn’t lie. “Yes,” she said, “he could have.”
****
Baylor tore the worthless papers into pieces and tossed them in the wastebasket. How could this one mission of obtaining the manuscript—which should have been accomplished if his minion hadn’t screwed up at the auction—gone so wrong? First, Toby didn’t get the bag when the driver knocked the bitch down, then Caldwell had tried his well-reputed seducing skills on her…to no avail. The drug episode had gone wrong when Ramsey intervened and she picked up the tail from the restaurant. Hell, evenhehad struck out in Halifax, and that had only happened once before since he’d been banished to human existence. He’d think the Kincaid woman had the blessing and protection of Avalon itself, except the bitch was dead and they still didn’t have a copy.
He would have killed Caldwell for this fiasco, but he needed him to go back in. Smith still had the original, and somehow he, Baylor, needed to get it. At least the fire mark he’d put on Caldwell’s ass when he lifted his eye patch wouldn’t show, although he’d have a painful time sitting down. Just a reminder that he shouldn’t let his boss down either.
Now, Caldwell would obey him, just as that boy, Toby, did. For Baylor had discovered the weakness in both of them. Caldwell had an elderly mother whose every bone could be broken by the merest touch, and Toby had a virginal sister who needed wheelchair assistance. Yes, those two men would obey him.
****
When Sara pulled into Mr. Smith’s driveway just after daybreak, she hit the brakes so hard the Mustang lurched to a stop. A black Honda was parked in the driveway, just like the one that had followed her.
And it was only a little after six a.m. She’d been so upset with Michael that she needed to get away, and she knew Mr. Smith was an early riser, but what was that car doing here?
She managed to say good morning to the butler in a steady voice as she made her way to the study. Mr. Smith was behind his desk, and Lucas was standing in front of it, a black T-shirt stretching over his broad back, tight jeans hugging slim hips and well-muscled thighs. She caught her breath. He couldn’t be the intruder, but what was he doing back so soon?
“Is that your black rental out front?” she asked.
He seemed to hesitate before he turned and gave her a slow smile. “It is. Good morning, lass.”
It was his car! Was he the one driving it yesterday?
He glanced at his watch. “I was planning on coming to get you in about an hour. Is everything okay?”
What should she tell him? That she’d been nearly murdered? Or did he know and had planned to return and “find” the body? Damn Michael’s questions for even putting that thought there. She didn’t want to believe it. But she had to know.
“Did you really go to Scotland? Do you still have your ticket?”
His eyes narrowed, the golden color beginning to glow darker as he studied her. Then suddenly he grinned. “Aye. And I brought back a wee gift for ye . Can ye not wait to get it?” He patted a jean pocket. “I have it right here.” Then he turned to Mr. Smith and winked. “You know how impatient women can be. Would you excuse us?” At Smith’s nod, he strode across the room and took Sara’s arm. “Let’s go to the library, shall we?”
She didn’t think she had much of a choice for his grip felt like steel. He didn’t say anything until he closed the library door.
“What’s this all about? Of course, I was in Scotland. Why are you asking?”
“You weren’t driving that Honda yesterday?”
He stared at her. “I wasn’t here. I rented the thing this morning when I got in. What’s the problem with the car?”
“Oh, it just followed me all over Arlington yesterday.”
His voice was edgy. “And what were you doing driving around by yourself?”
Her chin came up. “I’m not a child and it was broad daylight.” Probably not a good idea to tell him about the lunch with Caldwell.
“I thought we’d agreed that you would stay in and keep the doors locked.”
She refused to let him make her feel guilty. “A lot of good locks do!”
Instantly, he became wary, like a wild animal sensing danger. “What do you mean by that?”
“My apartment was entered last night by someone who had a key. He searched for the copy, but all he got was my Gwenhwyfar papers.” She watched his face, but it showed nothing except concern as he stepped over to her and grasped her shoulders.
“Are you okay? Where was the… McCain? He said he’d guard you.”
Goddess, his touch erased any thoughts that he could possibly be guilty. How could hands so warm and gentle be capable of firing a 9MM into her bed? And his eyes didn’t waver. He couldn’t be lying. Could he? Her Losers had been great actors.
“Michael got a call that his mother had been in an accident. He went to Waco.”
