Brandon snorted derisively into the phone. He hated it when she swore. It wasnt ladylike.
And call off the damn P.I., she added for good measure.
The phone cracked as Brandon hung up, and she jerked it away from her ear.
Candice flinched, and they stared at each other in silence for a moment.
Shall we take that as a yes? asked Candice.
Im assuming so. A sheepish grin pulled up the corners of Jennas mouth. Gosh, that had felt good.
SAY IT ISNT SO. Tyler Reeves older brother Derek filled the doorway of his office. Dereks chin was tipped up, and his arms were folded across his broad chest.
Tyler swore under his breath, following Dereks gaze to the duffel and the damning sleeping bag, which hed carelessly dropped on the couch an hour ago. It isnt so, he deadpanned, turning his attention back to his computer monitor.
Striker said things were bad, but jeez Derek took a step into Tylers outer office and kicked the door shut behind him.
Striker should mind his own business, said Tyler, referring to the middle Reeves brother. He punched in the password to his personal bank account on the receptionists computer, hoping to see that the lawyers escrow deposit had added a few zeros to his balance.
At least come out and stay in the guest house, said Derek.
No thanks.
This is stubborn even for you.
I got myself into this mess. Ill get myself out. The deposit hadnt cleared. Tyler closed his eyes for a second.
He needed that money. Needed it today. Hed already cleaned out his savings account.
Hed taken a chance in writing Mrs. Cliff a check last night for her car, but it was either that or admit to the whole world that the IPS Detective Agency was brokeadmit to the world that hed been stupid enough to trust a partner whod defrauded the company along with several of their clients.
Tyler would just as soon get shot.
Again.
In a place far more painful than his shoulder.
Why does getting yourself out of this mess have to involve eating cheap takeout food and sleeping on a short couch? Derek crossed the room and picked up the corner of Tylers old Boy Scout sleeping bag.
Because I sold the beach house. Giving up on the bank balance for now, Tyler pushed back the chair and stood up. He preferred to look Derek in the eye for this conversation.
Derek might be six foot two, but Tyler had caught up to him on his eighteenth birthday, and even managed to beat him by half an inch. Not that it mattered. He was now and always would be the little brother.
And linebacker Derek could still take him out without even breaking a sweat.
Because you were too stubborn to ask the family for help, corrected Derek.
A thirty-year-old man does not go running to his daddy for help just because his business hits a little snag.
A little snag? Dereks voice was incredulous.
A little snag, Tyler echoed.
Your partner skipped with your clients money.
Tyler gritted his teeth. Im handling it.
I can accept that you didnt want to go to Dad. But why didnt you come to me or Striker?
Tyler folded his arms across his chest, imitating his brothers pose. I needed money, Derek. And I needed it fast.
It had been forty-eight hours since he discovered Reggies duplicity, but saying it out loud still stung. Tyler had to squelch an urge to bash his fist into the nearest wall. It was an urge hed been battling for two days.
How much did you sell it for? asked Derrick.
Tyler named a sum that made Derricks eyes widen.
Thats it? You practically gave the beach house away.
They offered cash.
I wouldve bought it for that.
And Id still have a place to live?
Exactly.
Im not a charity case.
Dereks booming voice rose. Jeez, Tyler, lightning wont strike you dead if you borrow a little family money.
You know as well as I do that once Dad gets his hooks in me, Ill be his for life.
Like me, you mean.
No. Not like you. You genuinely want to stare at balance sheets and stock portfolios all day long. Though how youve managed to stay sane this long is beyond me.
Derek was the golden boy, the heir apparent to Reeves-DuCarter International, the pride and joy of three generations. Meanwhile, Tyler was the black sheep.
Derek shook his head. You never did understand
I understand perfectly. Im thirty years old. This private eye thing isnt just a phase. Its my vocation, my dream, my calling.
Doin real well for you so far, Derek snorted.
Tyler winced. Its a small setback.
How much did he get?
Reggie?
No. Derek rolled his eyes. Of course Reggie.
Tyler slumped back down in the chair. What did Striker tell you?
Derek pulled up a guest chair and folded his big body into it. That Reggie split with a clients car and a cashiers check.
Tyler nodded. That about summed it up. Reggie had also made free with several hundred thousand in retainers over the past few months, much of which Tyler would have to pay back since Reggie wasnt around to do the work.
How much? Derek repeated.
Including Mrs. Cliffs BMW?
Quit stalling.
Tyler voiced the amount that still made him wince. But I suspect most of it went up his nose before the big disappearing act.
The books were a mess.
Tylers life was a mess.
Derek let out a long, slow whistle. Whats plan B?
Tyler gave a chopped, terse chuckle. Plan A implicitly being to hunt Reggie down and take it out of his hide. Pay Mrs. Cliff for the carI told her we wrecked itback out of Reggies contracts and eat the penalties, sleep in the office for a while, find some quick, high-paying jobs
Derek glanced around the reception area with a frown.
Ive got coffee, a bath, a deli on the first floor, said Tyler. What more does a man need?
Bunk out at my place, said Derek.
Tyler shook his head. I dont want Dad to know whats going on.
Derek stared hard into Tylers eyes, but Tyler didnt flinch.
Derek was a fixer, just like their father. Tyler knew it was nearly killing him to sit back and watch his little brother stumble.
But Tyler was not giving in. Hed learned years ago that if he didnt fight tooth and nail for every little scrap of independence, hed end up in a Saville Row suit in a cushy office on the top floor of the Reeves-DuCarter building in downtown Seattle chatting nonsense with overseas investors and monitoring the Dow Jones Industrial Average.
This isnt high school, Derek. Let me handle it this time.
Derek drew back in his chair. One guy. I punched out one guy for you.
Tyler shook his head. Blackburn and his friends harassed me for three years thanks to you. Finally, in Tylers senior year, hed grown big enough to flatten Blackburn on his own and put a stop to the relentless tormenting.
What? Derek rocked forward. His fists balled. They kept at it? Why didnt you tell me?
Tyler threw up his hands. So you could punch him out again? Please, Derek. Theres nothing more pathetic than a kid who cant fight his own battles.
What? Derek rocked forward. His fists balled. They kept at it? Why didnt you tell me?
Tyler threw up his hands. So you could punch him out again? Please, Derek. Theres nothing more pathetic than a kid who cant fight his own battles.
Blackburn was twice your size.
Tyler cracked a half smile. Not in the end, he wasnt.
Dereks eyes flashed with sudden admiration. You were the one who broke his nose?
I was the one who broke his nose. I solved that problem. And Ill solve this one, too. It just might take me a while.
Derek glanced around the office again. Well, theres no need to be a martyr about it. Why not take a suite at the Quayside?
Because Im trying to save money.
Youre a shareholder. Theyll give you a rate.
Rates zero if I stay here.
The phone on the desktop rang.
Wheres Shirley? asked Derek.
Had to cut her back to part-time.
What? You cant even afford one employee?
The phone rang again.
Cash flow, said Tyler. Its just temporary. She wanted to spend some time with her kids for the summer anyway. He picked up the receiver. IPS Detectives.
Derek gazed at the ceiling and shook his head, as if invoking divine intervention.
Reggie Sandhill, said a mans curt voice.
Reggie is out of the country for a few weeks, said Tyler.
Derek snorted at Tylers lie.
Tyler ignored him. Im his partner, Tyler Reeves.
Reggie came highly recommended, said the man, in a tone that told Tyler he wasnt used to disappointment.
Perhaps I can help you. said Tyler evenly, annoyed by both the mans attitude and by Reggies habit of taking all the glory for cases that Tyler had solved. Everyone knew Reggies name. Nobody knew Tylers.
Its a surveillance job, said the man on the phone, a challenge in his voice.
Like, maybe Tyler couldnt handle surveillance. No problem. Surveillance is one of our specialties.
I see. The man seemed to be weighing whether or not to trust Tyler. Her name is Jenna McBride, he finally said.
And your name? asked Tyler, picking up a pencil and pulling a scratch pad closer on the desktop.
There was a slight hesitation on the line. Brandon Rice. Shes my fiancée.
You think shes cheating? asked Tyler. Cheating was far and away the most common reason for a man to have his significant other followed.
Derek stood up, pacing across the room, a scowl on his face. Chasing cheating fiancées was obviously not his idea of a stellar career move. Too bad. It wasnt like Tyler was in a position to be choosy. True, it wasnt his usual area of business, but this was the kind of job he needed right nowquick, uncomplicated cash.
Yes, said Brandon Rice. I think shes cheating. Im in Boston, and shes in Seattle. I want a full report on her activities. Where she goes, who she sees. She has a decorating business. Canna Interiors.
Tyler jotted down the womans name and the name of her business. Is there anyone in particular you think shes seeing?
Derek made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat and shook his head. Well, hell, every case couldnt be a crown jewel theft or a murder mystery. A guy still had to pay the bills.
Some days more than others.
I want to know everything, said Brandon. Money is not an issue. I want to know everyone she sees. Everything she does.
Tyler tapped the pencil eraser against the desktop. Reggie had taken on cases like this before. Rich man, pretty woman, edge of desperation. There was probably a big age difference.
Ill pay you ten thousand plus expenses, said Brandon. One week. A full report. And I mean full.
Tyler resisted the urge to scowl at the phone, aware of Dereks keen interest. He always submitted a full report to his clientsno matter what his opinion of them.
If this fiancée had any brains at all, shed stay in Seattle and well away from Mr. Demanding. Of course, she was the one whod agreed to marry the guy in the first place.
She was probably willing to put up with his crap for the money. Women generally did forgive a whole lot of ills for a whole lot of bank balance.
When do you want me to start? asked Tyler.
Today, barked Brandon. I want you to start today.
You got it, said Tyler. Where do I send the report?
After jotting down Brandons contact information, Tyler hung up the phone.
Youre going to follow a cheating wife? asked Derek.
Fiancée, Tyler corrected, feeling a twinge of self-consciousness.
But you wont lower yourself to join the family firm and negotiate with offshore investors?
You really want to help me? asked Tyler, ignoring his big brothers sarcasm, pretending it didnt bite. From experience Tyler knew the best way to get Derek off his back was to give him a mission.
Name it, said Derek, pulling his checkbook out of his suit pocket.
Im not taking your money. If you really want to be useful, you can head over to Canna Interiors.
Without Reggie as a second body, Tyler was handicapped. I need to know how many employees are there. What kind of an outfit it is. And what Jenna McBride looks like. But I cant let her see me yet.
Can I have one of those fountain pen cameras and a decoder ring? asked Derek.
Dont be an ass. Tyler stood up and shoved his big brother toward the door.
But, Tyler, how am I going to case the joint without the proper James Bond paraphernalia?
Just tell me what she looks like, and what they do, so I can make a plan. That ten thousand would go a long way towards operating expenses for the next couple of months.
2
JENNA MCBRIDE?
Jenna stopped short, halfway into the Canna Interiors offices as the large man rose from a white leather chair in the reception area.
Mr. Reeves has been waiting for half an hour, said her secretary, Rosemary, a lilt of excitement in her voice, and an appreciative glimmer in her eyes.
Rosemary was a grandmother in her early fifties, but Jenna could see why a woman of any age might find the burly Mr. Reeves attractive. She heard Candice suck in a quick, admiring breath behind her.
Yes. Im Jenna McBride. She moved toward the waiting area, hand extended. And this is my partner Candice Hammond. For an impish moment, Jenna considered adding the fact that Candice was single.
Derek Reeves, said the man, grasping Jennas hand.
Then he turned to Candice and gave her a cursory glance and a nod.
Candice, said Candice, offering her hand.
He shook it with an absent nod, then he immediately turned back to Jenna. I was wondering if we might talk for a few minutes?
She felt Candice stiffen.
Jenna half turned her head to smile in Candices direction in an effort to include her. How can we help you?
Derek Reeves gestured to the low table in the reception area. Ive been reviewing your portfolio. He still spoke directly to Jenna. He almost seemed to be studying her face.
Youre interested in the services of a decorating firm? she asked politely. Judging by the cut of his suit, Derek could be a great prospective customer.