Ainsley’s head slices to the left, then the right. “Not at all. I think he just really likes being around her. Maybe Belle reminds him of what life was like before he became so jaded.”
I dab at the corner of my eye. “Is he ever going to stop surprising me? Kingston really is one of the good guys, isn’t he?”
I already knew there was more to Kingston than he lets most people see, but being there for Belle like this, with no ulterior motive? That’s something someone who plans to stick around would do.
“He is,” Ainsley confirms. “Unless you threaten the people he loves. I don’t know why, but I think we only got a glimpse of what my brother’s capable of when he was beating that Lawson guy into a pulp, Jazz. I honestly couldn’t tell you how far he’d be willing to go to hurt someone—and I probably don’t want to know, to be honest—but good is the last word I’d use to describe his intentions. Kingston’s a-hundred-percent alpha when it comes to his pack. If you fuck with his people, he’ll rip you to shreds.”
I don’t doubt that for a second. The question is, why do I find that so hot? One of life’s mysteries, I suppose.
CHAPTER FIVE
KINGSTON
“How was the dinner?” John asks. “Any progress?”
“Not as much as I would’ve liked,” I admit. “But I had to get out of there. My dad was in rare form.”
“How so?”
I rake my fingers through my hair. “He was much bolder than I would’ve liked with Jazz.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised after watching the footage from his office. Your father seems more... emotionally reactive than usual.”
After we came across the video of Peyton and my dad in his office, I sent John a message with the time stamp so he could view it as well.
“He is, which is really starting to concern me. Preston Davenport doesn’t do feelings, and he’s too much of a control freak to allow others to outwardly affect him, yet that’s changing more and more each day. I had to get Jazz out of there last night. I was worried either she would cause a scene, or I would. His behavior caught us off guard.”
“I bet.”
“Speaking of being caught off guard... a man introduced himself to me at the party. I’ve never seen him before, but he said he knew you.”
“He mentioned me by name?” The surprise is evident in John’s tone.
I nod before remembering he can’t see me over the phone. “Yeah, which for obvious reasons didn’t sit right with me. He gave me his business card and said you’d vouch for him. The guy’s a financial analyst, I guess.”
“What’s this guy’s name?”
I look down at the card. “Rafe Garcia. You know him?”
My PI doesn’t say a word for a good thirty seconds. “Could you describe him for me?”
“Mid to late thirties, average build, brown hair, possibly Latino. His voice was pretty gravelly.”
“It’s from an on-the-job injury quite a few years back.”
My brows lift. “So you do know him?”
“Yeah, I know him,” John confirms.
“So what’s his deal? And how does he know about our association?”
John clears his throat. “Well, one thing I can tell you is Rafe’s definitely not a financial analyst, and Garcia is an alias.”
“Like Peterson,” I surmise.
“Exactly.” He chuckles.
“So, if he’s not an analyst, why is he pretending to be one? What does he actually do?”