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“I need you to look into a man named Franco Hopkins.”
A small pause elapsed, the storm bathing the city in rain.
“Is he related to your father’s case?”
“No. I’d like to know how dangerous he is.” Because hopefully, I was overreacting.
Silence hung on the line for three footsteps before Barry said, “Sir, respectfully, I agreed to work on your case because it’s one of the most famous unsolved murders in the country. You can hire any private investigator to chase down small matters like this.”
Shouldn’t surprise me that Barry was offended. Barry Mansfield wasn’t an ordinary private investigator. He was an ex-CIA agent, the most sought-after private investigator in this country, reserved for only those who could afford his services. His last client was the vice president of the United States.
It took me three years to finally land him. All the other private investigators I had hired, no matter how good they were supposed to be, had been unable to solve my father’s murder. And tonight, Barry and I were supposed to meet for the first time to get him started on the case.
“This isn’t a small matter,” I said. “Franco Hopkins threatened a friend of mine, and I’d like to know how concerned we should be.” I wouldn’t leave Luna unprotected until I knew.
Once I reached my car, I escaped the rain by climbing into the dry interior, shutting the door with a soft click. Starting the engine, I allowed the call to switch over to Bluetooth. The rain was an absolute downpour, like an avalanche of water washing over my car so heavily, the windshield was a torrential blur despite the frantic wipers as I drove through the parking lot toward the front door.
When Barry still hadn’t responded, I added, “I’ll be more focused at our meeting tonight once I know what the situation is. That’s all I need, and I’m relying on you to deliver.”
The line filled with the heavy weight of Barry’s sigh, the seconds stretching out like hours before he responded.
“Very good, sir. I’ll see what I can dig up before we meet at six.”
Until then, I wouldn’t leave Luna alone.
Whether she liked it or not.
CHAPTER8
Luna
The deep resonance of Hunter’s voice vibrated through me.
“Come on, Little Leopard.”
Before I could even process the pet name, Hunter’s arm hitched around my waist and pulled me further from my slumber. The leather on my back shifted to the breezy air as Hunter helped me out of his Aston Martin.
I must have fallen asleep on the way home from the hospital, and now, we were in front of the little cottage I called home.
Tucked away on the outskirts of the bustling city of Chicago, this quaint cottage’s stone—a mosaic of gray and brown—was twined with flowering ivy, and in the summer, the hum of bumblebees and the soft whispering of the ancient oak trees seemed to wrap it in an almost-mythical aura. The roof’s weathered shingles slanted down to meet small, diamond-paned windows that were often half-hidden behind white lace curtains that fluttered in the breeze whenever I’d open them.
The summer rain had passed, but the pea gravel walkway that was lined with yellow flowers had water draining off to the sides, and the aroma of freshly soaked earth wafted from the front lawn.
Hunter secured his arm around my waist as I took my first step.
“The hell?” My friend, Sean, pushed off the wall of my porch, his eyebrows attacking his face with anger when he looked at my bare legs and at the bizarre shirt I was using as a dress. But mostly because I was wobbling. And Hunter Lockwood had to stabilize me.
“Sean?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”
Now that I was looking, his van was parked off to the side.
“What happened to you?” Sean threw my left arm over his shoulders, crouching down to compensate for my height as he pulled me away from Hunter.
Well, tried to, anyway, but Hunter tightened his grip on me and glared at Sean.
“Who the hell areyou?”Sean asked. But as soon as he did, recognition flickered in his eyes.
“Who the hell are you?” Hunter growled.
