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Everleigh Emerson sure was prickly. Scared as hell, too, if he read the expressions flittering across her face right—and he usually did read other people pretty accurately—and yet putting up “leave me alone, I don’t need help” signals all over the place. Which made the promise he’d just made to his sister a bit more challenging to keep.
Another challenge loomed, as well...that curvaceous backside in those jeans, the zipped-up black leather ankle boots drawing attention to long legs bent under her as she peered at her cat... He couldn’t afford to be attracted to this woman.
Not on any level.
All too aware that they were in the room where she’d later be sleeping, without those jeans and boots, he headed out of the room the second she stood up. Kept his back to her for a second as he gave parts of himself a stern talking-to, and then stepped aside to let her lead him back out to the rest of the house.
She’d had very little control of her life, for what sounded like a lot longer than the time she’d spent locked up.
He didn’t want to take away any more of it than he absolutely had to, to keep her safe.
“You don’t have to stay,” Everleigh said, coming to a stop at the archway leading into the ravaged living area with a view of the small, equally pillaged den just beyond it. “I’m fine to wait for your cousin on my own.”
Was he mistaken or had there been a slight emphasis on the words your cousin? Not that he blamed her if there had been.
Some of the town’s residents were having a hard time trusting their police department at the moment after what Bowe had done. But he knew that most of the cops, Coltons and non-Coltons alike, were hardworking, capable and honest people who’d dedicated their lives to police work. His family, in particular, had grown up in the shadow of his aunt’s senseless and unsolved home-invasion murder. The incident was so much a part of their family it had literally shaped who they all were, instilled in them a deep understanding of the need for justice—most particularly for her kids, Clarke’s cousins.
His own lack of regard for rules, and early penchant for flouting convention, was a part of that, too, he supposed, which was why he was a PI, not a cop like so many of them. There’d been such a tight rein on all of them growing up...or so it had seemed to him, anyway. He’d needed to break out of the box. To do things his own way, whether his way was best, smartest, safest—or not. Not all of his family members would concur with the sense of tight reins on them, he was sure. It wasn’t something they sat around and talked about.
Regardless of who his family was, or how many of them worked for the GGPD, the truth was, people in town had a valid reason for mistrusting GGPD at the moment. One of their own had violated that trust in the most heinous way.
Randall Bowe had one hell of a lot to answer for. He was going to wish he’d never done anything to sic Clarke Colton on him, that was for sure.
But first things first...
“I...uh...don’t want to impose on you, but...since I was the one who found the evidence that set you free...I was hoping you’d trust me enough to help you find out who’s behind all of this...” He spread his arm wide to encompass the disaster of a mess in her home.
The way she was assessing him, he braced for a kindly worded slap in the face.
“I’m not just a private investigator,” he told her. “I work for the GGPD regularly. You can check up on me.”
He was going to have to find a way to get her to agree to him protecting her,
in order to have any hope of getting her to comply with what Melissa wanted.
What he must want, too, since he’d agreed to his little sister’s suggestion without even a token argument. And if she tried to make anything of that, she’d get double the argument from him.
“I was hoping life was going to get back to normal.” She looked around her. “A new normal,” she amended.
“It will.” He wanted that for her. With a strength of emotion that rattled him. What the hell? She was a case. He was doing a favor for his sister. For the whole Colton family. This was not his own personal crusade. “This whole episode, though, starting with your husband being murdered... It’s just not done yet. Let me help you finish it.”
“Okay.” He almost took a step back, he was so surprised by her capitulation. “But only because I don’t trust the GGPD to do the job themselves. And because I can afford to pay you,” she added. “Here I am, two days ago, worried about getting a proper haircut, and I hear that I’m receiving a payout from Fritz’s life insurance. Since he didn’t file for divorce yet, and didn’t change the beneficiary, I’m it. I go down on Tuesday to sign papers and then the money will be direct deposited into my account, at which point I can pay you. Ironic, isn’t it? He pilfers away everything either of us earned, leaves me and then ends up leaving me well-off. Which just makes me look guilty for killing him, doesn’t it?”
His gut lurched at the instant fear that emanated from her hazel-eyed gaze. “You’ve been exonerated, Everleigh,” he reminded her softly.
She nodded. “I didn’t even know he’d kept the life-insurance policy...until two days ago.”
“So, you got your haircut,” he blurted inanely, wanting to bring her back from that brink of fear. And then realizing that talking to her about her appearance probably wasn’t the way to get her to agree to his next request.
When her hand went immediately to her short, sexily ruffled, perky blond cut, and then almost immediately dropped self-consciously, he wished he’d left them at life insurance.
Tried to fix that with, “You don’t need to pay me.” What he wanted from her was her trust. And that was something he was going to have to earn, first.
He wasn’t a novice at that particular situation. After the exploits of his twenties and early thirties, disappearing for days at a time on some challenge, adventure or case, without checking in, he’d spent a lot of time earning back the trust of his family members. Melissa’s request that he protect Everleigh Emerson, just until they could figure out what was going on, was a huge sign of the trust he’d earned back.
And part of the reason why he’d agreed so readily to do so.
Part of the reason... The other part was standing in front of him, frowning again.
