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“I have my own questions.”
I shook my head. “Fucking unbelievable. In the two times this has happened to her, you were out of town both times. But go ahead, big guy. Try to pin it on me.”
“If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have been out of town.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I stared at him.
“Nothing.” He wouldn’t answer.
“Look, neither of us likes the other. We don’t have to pretend we do. Kennedy’s not here to make us play nice.”
“We agree on something.” He pressed his lips together. “She’s not here.” I felt him glare at me. “Where is she?” he asked.
“If you can get your head out of your ass, I’d tell you what’s going on,” I responded. “I want Crew back here safely. For now, I’m willing to call a truce on all the other bullshit until we find him. I won’t accuse you. You don’t accuse me. Deal?”
He was hesitant. In all these years our dislike of each other had only intensified. We had common ground. I needed Kimble to stand on it with me. He didn’t seem willing, no matter my argument.
“You do realize she had a tracker.” His words were bitter. “I took it out twenty-four hours ago.”
“I know. But she wanted it out. She’s not a little kitty from the shelter. You can’t put her in danger with one of those things. It’s more dangerous for every mob boss in town to be able to locate her every move.”
He huffed. “She’s in danger now because she doesn’t have it. If she hadn’t gotten away this time, I’d be able to find her no problem.”
“Like you did last time?”
“Like I did last time. That’s right. I found her. I am the only one who found her,” he hissed.
“About that.” I waited at the stop light for the trolley crossing. Tourists hung out of the open-air windows, snapping pictures with their phones. “How does a security expert not track down the people responsible for his boss’s kidnapping?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “The house was abandoned. In bank foreclosure. There was no one to trace it back to. No one stepped in and bought it either. It’s still with the bank. I’ve watched it. I’ve had my eye on that house for four years.”
“Hmm. It just doesn’t make sense. Ever since Kennedy told me I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the timing. What errand did Lucien send you on? The man was dying, and he sent you away on his fucking deathbed? I don’t get it. Who would do that?”
Kimble grunted. “Why would I tell you that?”
“Why wouldn’t you? The man’s dead. Someone is after his daughter again. You don’t see the coincidences adding up the same why I do?”
“No. I don’t.”
The trolley had passed us, and the light turned green. I stepped on the gas.
“Kennedy believes you’re loyal to her. I’ve always had my doubts.” I didn’t have a problem being blunt with this asshole.
“I could say the same thing about you,” he growled.
“I’m sure you have.” I smiled. “The difference is one of us will be in her life forever, and the other is a paid employee. You have no guarantees, Kimble. So, watch your fucking words, and your fucking games and help me find her assistant. Or you’ll be cut out of this equation before she steps foot in her house again. I can promise you that.”
“In her life forever?” he repeated. “You think you’re going to marry her?” It was hard over the roar of the engine to discern if I heard pain or surprise in his voice. Maybe it was a mixture of both.
“I know I am.” I pulled into the courtyard driveway. “As soon as we find out who the family is that’s playing this damn game.”
“Where are we? This isn’t the Martin compound.”
“My new place,” I explained. I stood from the car and tossed the keys to my valet. “Come on,” I directed Kimble. He seemed to be in shock. He followed me inside. “Too many people at the office and I don’t know that Kennedy’s place is secure.” I wasn’t willing to take him to the stables either. “I have a guest suite where you can shower.” His suitcase was in the backseat.
“Has she agreed to this?” He studied me. “To your plan about the future,” he clarified.
“To being my wife?” That was what he was stuck on? The woman I loved was in danger and Kimble was worried about Kennedy’s answer.
