“She loves staying with you,” said Amanda. “That’s all she could talk about last week after you watched her.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” said Grant. “At least not until Wyatt is back behind bars.”
Amanda looked from Grant to Isabelle. “Wyatt?”
“Dale’s father. He came to my house last night. He told Dale he’d seen you and Rachel there.”
Grant’s mouth flattened. “He said you were hot, which means he’s taken some interest in you. You need to be careful. He’s a dangerous man.”
Amanda’s brown eyes closed in weariness. “Don’t worry. I’m used to watching out for dangerous men.”
Ricky kept his eyes fixed on the wad of cash dangling in front of him in a clear plastic bag. The muscle-bound man holding it creeped him out, but for that much cash, Ricky could stand a little creepy.
Ricky squared his shoulders and tried to pretend he wasn’t aching to reach out and snatch that bag away. “That’s not enough for anything permanent, pops, but it’s enough to rough the guy up a little. Send him a message.”
The man’s face was shadowed by his deep hood, but his eyes still glowed bright blue. “A broken leg would be my first choice. That way, he won’t be able to run away.”
From what, Ricky didn’t dare ask. He so did not want to know.
“Broken leg. Got it.” Ricky stared at the money and had to shove his hands deep in his pockets to keep from snatching it away. He needed a fix bad, and that much dough would keep him hooked up for a month.
“He’ll be with a woman. Do not touch her.”
“Sure. Whatever you want.”
Ricky pulled his gaze away from the money long enough to check out the guy’s face. He had a creepy serious look in his eyes that said he meant business. Those eerie blue eyes would haunt Ricky’s dreams for a year, he was sure.
“If you hurt the woman, I’ll find you and kill you in your sleep. Slowly. Are we clear?”
Even with his body burning for a fix, Ricky still felt the shudder of fear that slid through him. “We’re clear. Can I call in my crew?”
“I don’t care how you get the job done, just do it tonight. They’ll be coming out of the restaurant soon. He drives a flashy silver Mustang. Be waiting for him.”
The guy offered him the bag of cash, and Ricky grabbed it and stuffed it down the front of his jeans for safekeeping. “I won’t be late, man.”
And he wouldn’t. No way was he going to give creep-o here a reason to come back and find him.
Grant hadn’t actually expected any of tonight’s dinner companions to stand up and announce they were a killer, but it would have been nice.
David had called today and was breathing down his neck about getting his ass out to Denver, pronto. And if that wasn’t enough to light a fire under his ass to get out of town, his inconvenient attraction to Isabelle would have done the job.
On the way into the restaurant, he’d only meant to tease her to get her mind off of all the doom and gloom, but it had backfired in a serious way. As soon as her exotic green eyes had slid down his body, looking like he was something good to eat, he knew he was in over his head.
She wasn’t a kid anymore. She wasn’t married or attached in any way. She was fair game. And Grant really wanted to play.
He stared across the table to where she spoke quietly to Amanda. The flickering candle on the table cast a soft light over her skin, making it glow. The flame was reflected by her glossy hair, making it shimmer every time she moved.
It was the kind of sight a man never got tired of seeing, and right then, Grant knew he was headed for trouble. He wasn’t good at keeping his hands to himself. Especially not when he knew he wasn’t the only one wanting to touch.
He’d just reached out his hand to stroke hers when their next dinner companion arrived. Grant pulled his hand back and rose to his feet.
“Everett,” greeted Isabelle. “I’m so glad you could make it. Do you remember Grant?”
Everett was on the short side, with mousy brown hair that was combed to exacting standards. His glasses were too large for his face and thick enough that they’d worn grooves in the side of his nose from years of being perched in the same spot. He gave Grant a limp, sweaty handshake, which sent a stack of papers under his own arm fluttering to the floor.
“Sorry,” he squeaked out and dropped to the floor to frantically recover his papers.
Grant bent down to help, using the opportunity to see what Everett was toting around. Without looking like he was, Grant scanned the pages as he picked them up. They were financial documents of some kind, along with tax forms. Isabelle’s tax forms.
What the hell was he doing with those?
“I’m sorry, Isabelle,” said Everett. “I was going to give these to you tonight, but now I’ll have to take them home and reorganize them.”
“It’s fine,” soothed Isabelle as she helped gather papers. “Tax day isn’t for a while yet. I’m just glad you were able to fit me in. I know how busy you are this time of year.”
Everett blushed. “It was no problem. Your forms are simple.”
She gave him a wide smile. “Then why can’t I figure it out myself? I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Everett’s blush darkened, and he tugged at his tie as if he had a hard time swallowing.
Grant handed Everett the folder that had housed all of the papers and watched as he carefully righted the chaotic stack of tax forms.