“Cute—are you calling a fair catch?”
“In softball it’s a foul-out.” He takes the frame. “Hana staged this. She’s always coming up with fun ideas. She has a show in New York every other year at the Milo gallery. Blake organized the first one, and it was such a success, they keep having her back.”
I knew this about her, but I nod, raising my eyebrows. “Cool.”
“This is cool.” He sits at a computer and taps a few keys.
Pictures pop up on a computer screen, and my breath stops as the images appear. It’s surveillance footage from inside Gibson’s. One feed is in a dark room with black leather sofas and no windows. It’s one of the small, back rooms where any number of dirty deals take place.
The other is the main office, where Natasha is sitting at her desk and Rick is standing with his arms crossed in front of her. It’s a low-resolution, black and white image, but I recognize them immediately.
The small hairs on the back of my neck prickle as I watch him watching them, knowing I could’ve been on this screen at any time. My fingers tremble, and I’m not sure my voice will cooperate.
Clearing my throat, I ask carefully, “Is this something you’re working on?”
“Not really. Just keeping an eye on things. These guys gave us a lot of trouble a few years back. They’re sophisticated criminals, true evil.”
“But they’re not in jail?”
He exhales, tapping another button that pulls up more surveillance of the street outside the club.
“We could never pin anything on those two. Doesn’t mean they’re innocent. Just means they’re better at covering their tracks. And others are still out there. We’re waiting to see who joins the party, or my partners are.”
Filtering through my memory, Natasha wanted to meet at the firing range to discuss sending me to Thornton. Was this the reason? To keep me off their cameras? Did she suspect she was being watched?
The muscle in Dirk’s jaw moves as he types on his laptop. I study his profile, but there’s not a bit of evidence he connects me to the scene in front of him.
“All done.” He closes the laptop and stands. “Pretty boring, yeah?”
Not even a little bit.
Blinking up at him, I force a smile. “It’s amazing what all you can do from this small office.” Stepping closer to his desk, it’s completely bare except for a Bluetooth speaker. “You don’t have any papers or books here?”
“We keep local police reports in the filing cabinet, but nothing sensitive is stored here. Too easy to break in and steal.”
Lifting my chin, I nod. “You keep stuff like that at your place?”
“Scar has a secret room.”
A secret room where a book might be hidden?
“And you can track anyone from right here?”
“Pretty much. Hutch and Scar can log into this feed from any networked computer, but I’m taking a break.” He catches my hand. “Ready to exercise some horses?”
Glancing around one last time, I feel confident what I’m looking for isn’t here. If I don’t find it at Hugh’s, that leaves Scar’s secret room, wherever it might be.
“Sure.” I manage a smile, feeling mildly uneasy. “Let’s get out of here.”
I standon the wooden fence resting my chin on my hand as I watch him lead the gorgeous, chocolate-brown thoroughbred around the paddock. He’s wearing that sexy cowboy hat again, and he’s holding a rope attached to the horse’s bridle.
Training Day runs in one direction for several minutes, then Dirk nods his head and makes a clicking sound. The horse immediately changes direction and runs the other way for a little while.
After a few more exercises, he removes the rope and loops it around his arm, allowing the horse to lope freely around the arena with the other horses.
“He’s so well-trained.” I look up at my handsome cowboy.
“He’s a thoroughbred. Hugh rescued him from some pretty bad stuff.”