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“Shh.”
He kissed her and tasted the salt of her tears. “Just trust me, Claire.”
“I do.” She shuddered against him and gave out a tiny sigh of surrender. How long had she waited to hear him utter those words? There had been a time when she would never have thought they could ever be together.
“Be my wife.”
“I—I will,” she promised through her tears. “I will.”
Weston adjusted the jib and the sail snapped in the breeze. He’d put in a call to Denver Styles, requested a private meeting, and now they were alone on the Stephanie, tacking toward shore. As he guided the sleek boat, Weston wondered just how far Styles could be trusted. The greedy son of a bitch would do just about anything for the right amount of money, Weston was sure of it, and as far as he could discern, Styles had no scruples whatsoever. Styles was a rogue private investigator of sorts with possible ties to the underworld.
“I’ve got a problem,” Weston admitted, steering into the wind.
“What kind?” Styles flicked his damned gaze in Weston’s direction.
“One I’m hoping you’ll help me solve.”
“Maybe.”
“I need some people to . . . disappear.”
The wind kicked Styles’s hair across his face, but he didn’t change expression, just stared at Weston with those gunmetal gray eyes.
“What do you mean ‘disappear’?”
“As in leave permanently.”
Styles rubbed his jaw. “You want them killed.”
Lifting a shoulder, Weston said, “That would be the easiest, I think. An accident up on 101 where the road curves high above the sea—the guardrail could be weakened and the car could be forced off the road. It would plunge off the cliffs and end up in the ocean.”
Styles’s jaw tightened nearly imperceptibly. “And who would be in the car?”
“Tessa Holland and her nephew, Sean St. John.”
“What if I say ‘no’?”
“There’s a lot of money involved.”
Styles hesitated, and Weston knew right then and there that he had him. The bastard was certainly money-motivated. “How much?”
“Half a million. All you have to do is find a way to abduct them, pour a little liquor down Tessa’s throat, maybe the boy’s as well, he’s a troublemaker, and I’ll bet has already emptied his share of beer bottles. After they’re inebriated put them both in Tessa’s car, and while everyone else is at the party tomorrow night, the one where Dutch is going to announce his candidacy for the governorship, they have an accident.”
“So you’ll have an alibi.” There wasn’t a trace of inflection in Denver’s voice.
“Bingo.” Weston turned the sailboat into the channel leading to the bay. “What d’ya say?”
“Five hundred thousand?”
“That’s right. A hundred up front.”
The flinty eyes sparked and there was only the slightest hint of hesitation, or twinge of conscience. Then the hard-edged smile that stretched from one side of his mouth to the other. “It’s a deal, Taggert,” he said. “But I’ll want to be paid tomorrow night as soon as the party’s over. Then I’m outta here. You’ll never hear from me again.”
“All the better,” Weston said, deciding that he liked the man’s style. “All the better.”
Thirty-two
“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” Claire said when Sean stormed into the house. He’d been gone a lot lately, still angry about moving to Oregon. Though he hadn’t been caught stealing again, he’d been hanging around some kids she didn’t trust, coming in late, and mouthing o
