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The damned HVAC guy.
Ready to fix the vents in her room, so she would be toasty warm without me to snuggle into.
I didn’t have a lot of time to be pissed off about that, though, because not ten minutes later, there was another ring of the bell.
“Who the hell could that be?” Slash asked, brows pinched, as I walked toward the door.
We didn’t exactly have a lot of visitors. The clubhouse was pretty far out of the main area of town, so we didn’t get solicitors or shit like that. Plus, you know, the whole outlaw biker thing.
When I pulled open the door, the man standing there looked out of place as hell standing there.
Simon Evertz.
In a three-thousand-dollar blue suit.
With a watch that was likely double that.
I glanced back toward the kitchen where Everleigh’s face completely fell at the sight of him. And the reminder of how fucked up her life had become.
“Simon,” I said, brows furrowing. “Were we expecting you?” I asked, though I knew there’d been no contact.
“You should be until we get this mess sorted out,” he said, moving past me and inside without being invited. “This is nicer than you’d expect,” he decided as Cat did a long stretch before jumping off the couch, and all but slamming his body against Simon’s pant leg.
For a second, Everleigh’s gaze narrowed at the cat. Who she’d been trying to woo with treats and tuna fish. To no avail. And here was this stranger who completely ignored his existence, and he was rubbing all over him.
“You look better than the last time I saw you,” Simon said as he approached the dining room table, putting his briefcase down on it, then pressing his thumb into the scanner to unlock it. “Let’s get to work.”
“To work,” Everleigh repeated. “On what?” she asked, not moving a step closer.
“Your case, Everleigh,” Simon said, sounding frustrated already. Like he wasn’t getting paid an insane amount of money for this visit.
“Oh, uh, okay. But… but how are we working on it?” she asked. “I thought this would, you know, be a court thing.”
“We are trying to avoid court,” Simon said. “Unless you want to be judged by a jury of your peers. And let me tell you, from experience, you don’t want to put your life in the hands of the general public. But, hey, your choice,” he said, and I didn’t like his tone.
“Easy,” I hissed as I walked past, giving him a hard look that had his brows raising, but he didn’t seem intimidated.
I guess when you worked for all of the West Coast’s most notorious, hardened criminals, you didn’t startle easily.
“No, ah, of course I don’t want to go to court. I just don’t know how that is avoidable,” she said. “I really don’t know anything about this,” she said.
“No,” Simon said with a sigh. “You don’t come off as a true crime or cop drama kind of woman,” he said, shaking his head. “I guess I’m gonna have to walk you through this.”
“And if you could do that without speaking to her like she’s a fucking child, that’d be great,” I said, grabbing three coffee mugs, and pouring.
“You’re paying me for my specialty,” Simon insisted.
“Is your specialty being a complete dick?” I asked, getting a surprised snort out of him.
“Fair enough,” he agreed, nodding. “Nothing,” he said when I lifted the cream and sugar containers in a silent question.
I put a little extra cream and sugar into Everleigh’s cup, then brought all of them over to the table where Everleigh had moved to sit, straight-backed and uncomfortable.
Simon took a sip of coffee as Everleigh just held hers between her hands.
“Alright. So. If we can avoid court, that is the goal,” Simon said in a much more tolerable tone. “But that means we have to work. In essence, it means we have to be our own investigative team. Because the DA has the entire fucking police force if he wants it to pin this on you. Especially your asshole of a brother,” Simon said, surprising me.
“How did you know?” Everleigh asked.
