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Gary smiled. “The FBI can be very…persuasive.”
I nodded. The protesters probably weren’t getting paid enough to make it worth getting tangled up with the FBI. “All right. Can I go back to my office? I have a meeting in an hour, but I was trying to get some work done in the meantime.”
Gary nodded. “Well, no. Not until we’re finished with the investigation. And…don’t leave town.”
“What? You think I did it? Seriously?”
“I didn’t say that. We have to keep all lines of communication open.”
“Fine. You’ve got my number.”
With a nod, Gary and Frankie left to catch up with the other agents and I stalked to the exit. Logically, I knew they were there to help and that I had nothing to fear because I had nothing to do with the cause behind the crash. I wanted to know who was behind it just as much as they did—although my gut already had an obvious idea who was responsible—but it annoyed me that my business couldn’t begin to get back on track as they rummaged through every last inch of the place, in search of clues that I’m sure O’Keefe was too crafty to leave behind.
There was still a good chunk of time before my appointment, so I headed down toward the beach. A little salty air would do me some good to clear my mind before what was bound to be a difficult meeting with the lawyer.
28
Lance Toffer
Attorney at Law
The name was in bold print on the frosted glass door of the small brick building, a renovated version of a historical house, set in the middle of a row of similar old houses, that now served as offices for high-level professionals. The town was a forty-minute drive inland from Holiday Cove. I’d never been there before but it was easy enough to follow my GPS system to the address listed on the card that Frankie had given me.
This was it, sink or swim.
In my mind, there were only two ways the meeting could go. The first—and preferable—would be that he could wiggle a way around O’Keefe’s threat to me and my friend Rick, or maybe he could identify a loophole in the contract that would allow me to flip the script on O’Keefe once and for all.
Or, worst-case scenario, he’d advise me to sell the business and start over, as far away from Holiday Cove as possible. All I knew was, one day, I was sitting pretty with the biggest—and most profitable—air museum in the world, and now…I was afraid of losing it. Over what? A stupid fight in a parking lot? Fuck me.
I exhaled sharply, emptying my lungs, before pulling the door open.
“Good morning,” a perky brunette with dark glasses greeted me from her seat behind an elegant desk carved from dark wood and polished to gleaming perfection.
The receptionist was leaning over, consulting the screen of the expensive looking computer system when I walked in. Although she straightened quickly, she’d lingered just long enough for me to be able to see down the top of her blue dress. It was nearly impossible to keep my mind from wandering through half a dozen scenarios, all of which involved her wearing a lot less clothing. But, halfway through the first, a vision of Gemma down on her knees intervened and threw my imagination back on track.
I shook my head, dazed by the sudden shift. That’s never happened before…
“Are you all right?” The woman’s eyebrows creased with concern over her glasses.
“Yeah. Sorry. Uh, my name is Aaron Rosen. I called yesterday and made an appointment with Mr. Toffer,” I answered, pulling myself back together, blotting out the warring fantasies in my mind.
The woman smiled, revealing a row of perfect, white teeth. “Yes, of course. I’m Poppy, Mr. Toffer’s assistant. I’ll let him know you’re here. Would you care for anything while you wait? Coffee? Tea? Sparkling water?”
I shook my head and held up a hand. “No but thank you.”
“Okay.” She bobbed her head and waved at the plush leather seats along one wall. “Feel free to take a seat. It shouldn’t be long. Mr. Toffer is just wrapping up.”
I nodded and pocketed my good hand as I took a few meandering steps to the middle chair. I absorbed the mix of modern and classic decor. The desk that Poppy had just left looked like something that could have been original to the hundred-plus-year-old house, but then the leather chairs, contemporary artwork on the walls, and the sleek computer system all fell in stark contrast, jarring me from the historic feel of the exterior.
As I waited, with nothing but some tinkling music in the background to keep my thoughts busy, my anxiety swelled in my chest like a balloon. I wiped my palm on my jeans and briefly wondered if I should have changed into something more professional. Admittedly, my jeans were one of the few pairs I owned that weren’t riddled with holes, but still…considering my surrounding and the fairly upscale dress of Mr. Toffer’s assistant, I was beginning to feel out of place.
