Xander grinned. “I knew it! One look at you and—”
“But it’s not that simple, Xander. I’m just a fling for her.” And didn’t that suck? “Rachel thinks I’ll be gone in a few days, tops. I doubt she’ll miss me when I’ve gone. She’s only been divorced about fourteen months. She may not be ready to hear that I’m . . . falling in love.”
“She has feelings for you. It’s all over her face.”
“And when she finds out I lied to her about almost everything?”
“She’ll forgive you.” Xander clapped him on the back. “Dude, you’re trying to save her life and preserve her peace of mind.”
Yes, but would she believe that he’d wanted her for her and not just because he’d been playing the hero or fulfilling a responsibility?
“If I haven’t solved this by Tuesday night, I’m going to have to tell her that someone wants her dead, that I picked her up for a reason . . . everything. I don’t want to scare her, but I need to come clean with her. I’d just rather do it once I know she’s safe.” He blew out a ragged breath. “I don’t want to lose her.”
“Sounds smart. Who are your other suspects? What’s your plan?”
“Some ideas have been brewing in the back of my head. I need to look into her neighbors and friends, just to make sure there’s no one I should zoom in on. Her ex might not have been the one to hire me, but my gut tells me the whole damn mess has something to do with him. I’ve just got to prove it.”
“Can I help?”
“Occupy Rachel for a few minutes and let me borrow a laptop.”
“Sure. I’ll shut you up in my office at the back of the house for a bit.”
Decker lifted his duffel, nerves biting his belly. “Perfect.”
Xander shut him into the room lined with bookshelves. A sleek laptop sat in the middle of the leather-topped monstrosity. He tried not to think that the guy had probably done the nasty with his wife here more than once and focus on his task.
A few clicks of his computer later proved that her friend Shonda had neither the money nor the motive to want Rachel dead. The woman had four hundred dollars in checking, and her rent was past due. Shonda never had so much as a parking ticket, and she’d been named teacher of the year at Magnolia Elementary last year. Saturday at noon, she’d been working on a Habitat for Humanity project about forty miles away. And the woman’s brother was still in the hospital. Decker scratched her off the list of suspects.
He looked into her neighbors. The house next door to her on the east had actually been vacant for the last six weeks. On the other side lived Brian Boone, a man who traveled for a living. His girlfriend either lived there or took care of the place while he was gone because she always signed for his deliveries. According to Brian’s credit card statement, he’d just dropped a hefty sum at a jewelry store Friday afternoon, then sprung for a fancy French dinner last night. Twenty bucks said the guy was engaged now. Happy people didn’t usually solicit murder, especially in the middle of popping the question. Decker removed him from the list, too.
A quick scan of all the occupants on her street and the rest of her coworkers didn’t turn up a single red flag. And this wasn’t some random psycho killer. They usually wanted to do their own dirty work just for the thrill.
So he came back to Owen. Her ex seemed like the sort of guy who didn’t want to get his hands dirty. If he was so worried about repairing his relationship, why would he bother with Rachel? Did it have something to do with that expired marriage license?
That was it. He needed to talk to Owen, man to professor, and find out what the hell was going on. While he was at it, he should meet Carly, too. Men were far more likely to murder than women, but hiring the work out was definitely a female’s style. She might consider an assassin something like a life adjustment handyman.
But in order to talk to the struggling lovebirds, he would have to leave Rachel. Damn it.
With a sigh, he cleared the computer’s cache, shut the lid, and picked up the duffel. A rough plan formed in his head. He’d no more stepped into the living room when the group shot his plan to hell.
“I’d like that,” Decker heard Rachel say. “Tomorrow would be great.”
“You’ll like my friend Delaney. She’s really kind. Just slap me if we get too deep into the baby talk. She’s been through this twice, and I’m still trying to figure out what’s going on with my body.”
“Tomorrow for what?” Decker barked.
Rachel welcomed him back with a smile. “London asked me to meet her and her friend for lunch.”
He didn’t like it, but to balk might make him look controlling. Or force him to explain now. Decker took a deep breath. Rachel would be with two other women in a public place. As far as the guy who wanted her dead indicated, the job didn’t have to be complete until probably the day after tomorrow. A little breathing room. Decker vowed to take precautions and do everything possible to keep her safe.
He forced a smile. “That’s awesome. I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”
But the outing bugged the hell out of him over their early dinner. His fear for her caused him to reach for her three times during the night to make love to her, each time successively more possessive than the last. While she slept, he swiped her iCloud password and downloaded an app that allowed him to track her phone. Anxiety made him pull her into his lap over breakfast so he could hold her close. That same niggling worry urged him to hold her tight as they were walking out the door. He escorted her to her car and watched her drive off. Decker figured that she’d get angry or suspicious if he stalked her the three blocks to the restaurant. The roads were public. She’d be fine; he had to believe that.
Straddling his Ducati, he made his way over to Carly’s older brother’s place. Christian Adams, age thirty, hadn’t been hard to track down. He was an auto mechanic with no priors. Divorced two years ago. No kids. Ho hum. Hopefully, Owen, Carly, and this dude would all be at his house, packing up and getting ready to head to the airport.
When Decker pulled up in front of the place, it looked spotless and well kept, if a bit older. Mature trees swept over the roof in the breeze. A big dog napped on the front porch.
A minute after he rang the bell, a short brunette with tousled dark hair, kind blue eyes behind a pair of studious glasses, and a kindly inquisitive expression answered the door. She wore a little sundress that hung off one shoulder and suggested that she’d donned it hastily. No evidence of a bra.
Decker’s first impression was that this woman would never stoop to murder. Her capable, open air told him she’d rather deal with a situation head on.
“Hi. Is Owen here? I’d like to talk to him.”
She turned wary. “You are . . . ?”
“Decker.” He put out his hand. “I’m his ex-wife’s . . . boyfriend.”