She nods, slowly. “I see. But still, no.”
Maddening woman! I clench my teeth and force myself to speak calmly. “And what will you do if someone attacks you?”
She’s quiet for a minute, then finally shrugs. “You’re not the only one with weapons, Mr. Master.”
This woman’s full of surprises.
“Fine. I’ll take you home. Pack a bag so you’re ready for the next time we work together. I’ll send one of the company cars to your house for your use.”
“Thank you.” Finally, something she doesn’t argue with.
She gives me her address, and we drive the rest of the way to her home in silence.
“You’re brooding.”
“I’m not brooding.” Jesus, I haven’t met anyone in years who’s so goddamn free with me. Does she have zero sense of self-preservation? We don’t speak again for long minutes, as the houses and cars pass by our windows, dimly lit in the moonlight. Streetlamps cast shadows on the street and sidewalks.
When we’re a block away, she turns to me.
“I’m sorry about your sister. Tonight, I’m going to look up anything and everything I can. I’ll make a list of notes and leads, and come over tomorrow to help you continue the investigation. And if anything happens while I’m gone, please let me know.”
“I will. Look up everything you can about the flowers and the cases they suspect are linked.”
“I will.”
“You should get some sleep, though.”
“So should you.”
We both know neither one of us will sleep tonight.
I hate that my sister’s out there. I hate that we have so little to go on.
It’s easier to handle cases that don’t involve the people you love.
And I hate that Violet’s going home.
Chapter 8
Violet
* * *
It seems like I’ve lived a dozen lives this week, and I’m weary. So tired, my bones feel like they creak, and my eyelids feel paper thin. I want to crawl in my bed, face first, right on top of the blankets and not get up again for a good, long while.
I left here this morning wanting to get hired by Cain Master.
I got a lot more than I bargained for.
His huge, ambling truck pulls out in front of my place. My landlord Troy’s smoking a butt on the top stoop, and he doesn’t even bother to try to hide the fact that he’s scoping out Cain and his truck. I watch him take a drag, then let the smoke out slowly. He tosses it to the next step down and grinds it under his heel before he starts to come our way.
Seriously?
“Who’s this?” Cain murmurs, his voice deceptively casual.
“Landlord. Usually just keeps to himself. This is weird.”
“He got a thing for you?”
I can’t help but snort at that. “Uh, no.” No one’s got a “thing” for me, but I don’t think Cain believes me. Troy anchors his hands on his hips and glares at us.
“Come at me, bro,” Cain says quietly.
“Okay, relax,” I say with an eye roll. “He is not worth your time. Trust me. I can handle him.”
“That was never in question,” he mutters, releasing the wheel and cracking his neck, like he’s limbering up for a fight. Maybe he wants someone to pick a fight with him, to help burn off the intensity of the aggression that rolls off him. Maybe he wants to kick some ass.
Shiver.
“Alright, fine. I’ll have a car brought here within the hour, and I want you at my place at eight a.m. sharp tomorrow morning.”
Well then. Someone likes to gain back control. Well played, Mr. Master.
I’ll play along right back.
“Of course. And thank you.”
“Don’t forget to pack your clothes.”
I bite down some snarky remarks and turn away from him so he doesn’t see my eye roll.
“Yessiree,” I mutter, as I swing my legs around toward my side of the truck. The clouds shift, and a stream of moonlight hits the ground beside it. I look up at the full, brilliant white moon, and a pang hits my heart. Skylar. Where is she? What’s happening to her? Is she okay?
And she isn’t even my sister. I can’t begin to imagine what he’s going through. He’s learned how to school his features, how to hide his feelings. Years of service and what he’s been through would do that to a person.
We’ll find her.
I push open the truck door. Cain opens his mouth to say something, but I don’t give him a chance.
“Thank you for everything,” I say loudly, infusing a lilt of flirtation in my voice, as if he just brought me home after homecoming, for Troy’s benefit. Cringe. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He gives me a little finger wave but doesn’t reply. He’s focused instead on watching Troy.
“If this fucker gives you any trouble…” he begins in a low rumble.
“Kick him where the sun don’t shine. On it.” To be more accurate, I’d curse him out and call Candi, since I typically try not to get into any altercations with my landlord. I did that once, and things got a bit… messy. It’s hard to find a new apartment mid-month.