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“Of course. No problem.” Gingerly I took the screeching child and settled her on my hip, making sure the mother’s jacket stayed over the child’s head. “Hey, uh, Amanda feels hot. Like, really hot.”
“I know. We just came from the doctor’s office.” The mother’s voice was muffled as she once again dived back into the pickup’s depths to grab her things. “Poor baby has strep and an ear infection. The whole house is down with it.”
So the old saying was true—there was never a hazmat suit around when you needed one. Okay, maybe it wasn’t an old saying, but it sure fit the moment. “Great. Did you find your keys so you can get inside?”
“Yes.” Emerging triumphantly with her grocery bags and purse, the woman peeked at her baby. “Let’s go inside now and get you settled in with your medicine and your yummy pudding. Okay, pumpkin?”
In response, “pumpkin” threw up all over me.
Karma, I thought with a sigh. One way or another, that wench really had it out for me.
“I’m so sorry.” The mother burst into tears once more, even as she reached for her daughter. Ten seconds too late, of course, but I thought it was nice of her. It was the thought that counted, after all. “I’m so, so sorry, you can send me your cleaning bill—”
“Please, don’t worry about it.” Trying not to puke myself when the smell hit me, I held my face up to the rain and hoped the worst of the baby barf got washed away. “My father always says when doing a good deed, expect neither punishment nor praise. Just keep doing good.” Like donating to his many charities, such as his “I want a new yacht” fund. That was always a favorite.
“He sounds like a good man.” The woman sniffled, awkwardly gathering up her dropped grocery bags while still holding her kid. “In fact, he sounds like one of my favorite motivational speakers, Tru Steadfast. In fact… Wait.” She gasped suddenly. “Oh. Oh… my…God.”
Uh-oh.
“You’re…” The woman’s eyes grew as big as pie plates as she stared at me. “You look just like Eden Steadfast, Tru Steadfast’s daughter. You’re her, aren’t you? I mean, I haven’t seen you on the livestream in a while, but—”
“I’m so sorry, but I’ve got to go. I hope you feel better, Amanda, and best of luck to your mama.” I nearly ran for Timothy, not even caring about staining the fine leather seats with rain and baby puke. What mattered was getting the hell out of there.
And finding the author who left that goddamn note.
Chapter One
Who Are You?
“Ms. Steadfast? Can I get you anything while you wait?”
I looked back at the receptionist manning the autumn-decorated desk of Private Security International. Like the open-air lobby of the converted century-old warehouse with its white-washed interior and exposed brick walls, Mary Jane Case was not what she seemed. Her smile was professional, of course, as was the rest of her appearance. Her curly brown hair had been tamed in a neat topknot, and her makeup and nails were all perfectly on point for the role she played at PSI. On the surface, she was the expected pretty face fronting a professional business that catered to the wealthiest, most special snowflakes in the world.
But Mary Jane’s calf muscles were way too defined for a run-of-the-mill receptionist.
Her eyes were also not that of a normal meet-and-greeter. I’d been sitting long enough in PSI’s Zen-inducing waiting area to note that whenever the front door opened, the receptionist’s eyes were already trained on the visitor, looking them over in a visual frisk that missed nothing. I’d clocked the cameras outside before heading into the building myself, so it didn’t surprise me that Mary Jane had fair warning someone was about to enter her domain. What did surprise me was that in a converted warehouse full of mercenaries and soldiers of fortune, whoever was in charge had decided the building’s first line of defense—the gatekeeper—had to be this woman.
Bottom-lining it, Mary Jane Case was someone I would never mess with.
I rearranged my face into a polite smile while searching her eyes to see if she had any wayward suspicions about me. “No, but thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Of course.” Her professional smile didn’t alter as she went back to her desk, revealing absolutely nothing except those overly developed calf muscles. Talk about a standoff. Good ol’ Mary Jane and I could sit in that lobby for the next year and probably never learn what the other was thinking. Either she was as good at guarding herself as I was, or I had lost my touch when it came to sussing out a potential mark.
Maybe I’d gotten soft since trying to live on the straight and narrow.
I almost grimaced at the thought before catching the telltale expression and renewed my concentration of keeping a blank face. Yup. Definitely getting soft. I seriously needed to work on that.
“Ms. Steadfast.” A man with short graying hair and horn-rimmed glasses approached where I sat, and his suit breathed top-of-the-line in its simplicity of cut and style. Tom Ford’s Royal line for summer, if I didn’t miss my guess. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Cap Fogelmann, head of PSI. Will your father be joining us?”
Well, well, the head man of PSI himself. Didn’t I feel special. “My father?”
“Yes, your email said you both have been threatened in recent weeks.”
“Ah.” What I hadn’t put in my email request for a meeting with the private security business was that my father and I hadn’t actually spoken in three years. I’d texted him to join me today—something that had twisted my stomach into queasy knots—but silence had been my only response. “I’m afraid my father’s schedule is quite a monster, Mr. Fogelmann, Not that he isn’t taking this seriously,” I hurried to assure him, trying my best to push the earnestness of a doting and dutiful daughter into my tone. “It’s just that he packs his schedule so much, trying to help those who come to his House of Enlightened Greatness, that he barely has time to take care of himself. That’s where I come in.”
Cap Fogelmann nodded. “I can understand that, and I’m sure my daughter can relate as well.” He tilted his head toward Mary Jane. “Isn’t that right, kiddo?”
“He’ll skip things like lunch and dinner if I don’t stay on him,” Mary Jane said without glancing up from reading an email. Which was just as well, since I was trying to recover from the surprise that Mary Jane and Cap were related, and I hadn’t detected even the slightest resemblance between the two. “I totally understand where you’re coming from when it comes to workaholic fathers, Miss Steadfast.”
