One Hit Wonderful (27 page)

“A fit,” he confirmed, his voice so calm and smug she just wanted to snatch him bald. “You’re being irrational and emotional because you know I’m right.”

Lily could actually feel her blood starting to boil in her veins, she was so pissed. “First of all, you’re not right. You’re so many kinds of wrong I can’t even count them. This is my business. My business, my problem, and you just decided to take over like some patriarchal dickhead without even consulting me.”

“I tried to talk to you about this, but you kept dismissing it. I had to go behind your back.”

“You couldn’t have trusted me?”

“Oh, like you trusted me?” he shot back. “When did you decide to hire Jonah?”

“What difference does that make?”

“You didn’t tell me about it,” he said.

“No, I didn’t, and do you know why? Because I was afraid of this.”

“What?”

“This!” She flapped her arms. “This crazy, overreacting thing that you do, going around behind my back, finding private investigators and arranging things—wait.” She narrowed her eyes. “How did you find Jonah?”

She felt her stomach drop when his eyes, which had been so focused and intent on hers, shifted to a point over her shoulder. “Detective Graham recommended him.”

“When did he do that?”

“The day after the break-in.”

She nodded slowly as the pieces started to tumble into place. “And what a coincidence that the detective you hired just happened to be staying in my hotel. But he was already working for you when he checked in.”

It was a rhetorical question, but he answered it anyway. “Yes.”

“And I’m guessing he never really had a termite problem.”

“No.”

Lily drew in a breath. “So he was there to what, keep an eye on me?”

“To make sure you were safe, yes.”

“Could you possibly be more insulting?”

His gaze, which had been focused on the wall over her head, shot back to hers. “Insulting?”

“Yes. What makes you think I can’t handle this myself? Really, it’s a serious question. What exactly is it about me that makes you think I can’t handle this?” She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot, staring at him with blazing eyes. “I’m really dying to know.”

“What’s wrong with me wanting to help you?” he asked.

“Nothing. Not a thing,” she said. “But helping me implies that you’re providing assistance with something I’m doing, not taking over my entire life.”

“I did not take over your entire life,” he protested.

“You tried,” she argued. “You want to drive me to and from work, you ordered me an alarm system that I neither wanted nor needed—I know, you’re the fucking landlord, and that’s the only reason I agreed to the damn thing—and, hello? You hired a private investigator behind my back!”

She huffed out a breath. “Which, by the way, was a great idea. Really. I even thought of it myself.”

“Almost a week ago,” he shot back.

“So?”

“So when were you going to tell me?”

“What, that I’d asked Jonah to check out Max for me?”

“Yeah. When were you going to tell me that you were worried about Max? Because you’d have to be, to hire someone to investigate him.”

“First, I didn’t hire him. I asked him for his opinion, and he offered to look into it as a favor. He wouldn’t take any money, which now makes perfect sense, because he was already getting paid to look into it. And second, there was nothing to tell yet!”

“You don’t think this is something I need to know?”

“It’s my business!” she shouted.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” he said slowly. “Your business, and you don’t see any reason to talk to me about it.”

She blinked. “That’s not it.”

“Then why wouldn’t you share this with me?” He straightened from his position against the counter, his eyes intent on hers. “You’re worried about it, concerned enough to take action, but you don’t mention it. Why?”

“I…there was nothing to tell,” she managed. “It’s just a suspicion, nothing solid.”

“I’m not a jury,” he said. “You don’t have to prove something to me beyond a reasonable doubt.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” she said. “God knows you’re worried enough already.”

“Part of the reason I’m so worried about you is because you seemed to be taking all of this so lightly,” he countered. “Maybe if you talked to me about what’s going on with you, I wouldn’t have to go behind your back to find out what’s happening.”

Lily’s eyes all but bugged out of her head. “So this is my fault?”

Nate’s eyes got so narrow they all but disappeared. “Partly, yes. You don’t talk to me, Lily.”

“I talk to you all the time,” she protested, but he cut her off with a slash of his hand.

“You don’t. Not about anything important. I don’t know how you’re feeling, what’s going on in your life unless I ask you, and even then you’re so guarded, it’s like pulling teeth.”

“That is not true.”

“It is true,” he insisted, eyes blazing green fire. “What did you expect me to do, Lily, just stand idly by while the woman I’m in love with was in danger?”

He shook his head while she gaped at him. “I’m sorry if you feel like I overstepped my bounds,” he ground out, “but you don’t tell me anything, and I was going to do what I had to do to keep you safe. And if that offends your sensibilities, then that’s just too damn bad.”

“I can’t believe you’re trying to put this on me,” she managed. “You hired a private investigator to keep an eye on me and this is my fault?”

He shook his head, his hands jammed in his pockets as though he was afraid he’d stranger her if they weren’t. “I did what I felt I had to do,” he told her, “and I’d do it again.”

Lily’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before she stammered, “Well, if that’s the way you feel about it, I don’t think we have anything more to talk about right now.”

Nate reached out and opened the door. “Maybe we don’t.”

Nonplussed, she simply stared at him for a moment then straightened her shoulders and walked to the door. On the threshold, she stopped to look at him, swallowing hard when she saw the hard look in his eyes. “I’m going back to work,” she managed.

“Fine,” he said. “I have a dinner meeting with my agent.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to object, to remind him they’d had plans to watch old movies and order Thai food together, but she bit it back. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow then.”

He nodded, and with nothing more to say, she stepped out the door.

It closed behind her with a sharp click, and she felt the breath rush out of her lungs in a painful whoosh. “What the hell just happened?”

Chapter Eighteen

“I still don’t know what happened,” she muttered into the phone. She tucked the takeout cartons into the fridge and shut the door with her hip. “One minute I was full of all this righteous rage, the next I was standing on the damn doorstep after he booted me out.”

Charles’ chuckle sounded in her ear. “I wish I’d been there to see that.”

“Charles, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am, darling, but you have to admit, the guy’s got style.”

“You don’t think he’s right, do you?” she asked, and slumped into a chair.

“Of course not,” he soothed. “He shouldn’t have gone behind your back and hired a private detective.”

“Thank you.”

“But you are guarded and uncommunicative sometimes.”

“I am not!”

“Sorry, sweetie, but you are.” His voice softened. “Look, it’s not as though you’re doing it on purpose. We know that. It’s just…well, it takes a long time to get to know you.”

“What do you mean?” She frowned and picked at the label on her beer bottle. “We’ve been best friends since college.”

“Yeah, but we met freshman year and didn’t get to be close until almost three years later. You’re not the most open person in the world.”

“So what? I’m a terrible person because I’m a little private?”

“No, not a terrible person. But you have to admit, it’s sort of hard to have a relationship with someone who won’t talk to you.”

“I talk to him,” she muttered. “And anyway, I wasn’t the only one not talking. He didn’t talk to me either.”

“True.”

“And he lied.”

“So did you, by omission.”

“Shut up.”

Charles laughed. “So, you had your first big fight. It had to happen sometime, and you’ll make nicey nice and work it out, and then you can have your first make-up sex, and it’ll be fine.”

“I guess.” Lily sighed and got up to pace. “There’s still this thing with Max hanging over us though, and I don’t think we’ll be okay until it’s gone.”

“Well, what did the PI say?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I read the report, but it didn’t make a lot of sense. Lots of numbers and financial mumbo jumbo.” She frowned. “But there was a sort of recap at the end, and it said something about suspicion of money laundering.”

“Oooh, they think Max is laundering money?”

“Looks like it.”

“For what? Where? Who?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t get that part.” She got up to toss her beer bottle in the recycle bin. “But I guess that’s what they think he was looking for when he broke in here.”

The loudest, wettest gasp she’d ever heard sounded in her ear. “They think there’s money in your apartment?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, freak. They think there’s something about the money laundering, like paperwork or account information or something.”

“Well, that’s disappointing.”

She snorted out a laugh. “Even if it was money, it wouldn’t be here. If Bridget had it, most likely it’s in the storage unit. And Bridget would have told us if she had a bunch of Max’s money.”

“True that. Too bad we never found anything there,” he mused.

“Yeah. Wait.”

“Wait what?” Charles asked, then, “Oh no.”

“Just for a little while,” she cajoled. “We know what we’re looking for now!”

“We have no idea what we’re looking for,” he countered. “Correction, no idea what you’re looking for. I’m not doing anything tonight except giving myself a micro-dermabrasion facial and watching
Project Runway
.”

“A micro-dermabrasion facial?”

“I have fine lines,” he said defensively.

“I have a psychotic ex-fiancé after me!”

“He’s not after you,” Charles scoffed. “He’s after something he thinks Bridget has, and if you just stay home tonight and apologize to your boyfriend tomorrow, then everything will be fine.“

“I’m not apologizing, he was more wrong than I was.”

“You’re such a moron. If you don’t make up, you can’t have make-up sex.”

“That’s a good point,” she muttered. “But hey, if I go to the storage unit and find whatever it is Max is looking for, I can tell Nate about it and then he’ll know I trust him.”

“Why don’t you tell him you think whatever Max is looking for is in the storage unit, then he can tell the hottie PI and the cops, and they can deal with it?”

She considered that for about three seconds. “Okay, I’ll tell him I’m going to go look, and see if he wants to come with me. But I don’t want a bunch of strangers going through Bridget’s things.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Really. I also want to find whatever it is myself.”

“That makes more sense,” he muttered. “Can’t you just leave this alone?”

“Well…no.”

He sighed. “Typical.”

“Does that mean you’re going to give me the combination to the lock?”

“Get something to write with,” he told her, and she scrambled for a pencil, jotting down the numbers on the back of a phone bill.

“You’re going to talk to Nate, right?”

“I’m going over there right now. You sure you don’t want to come with me?”

“I’m exfoliating, darling.”

“Right,” she chuckled. “Have fun.”

“Yeah, you too. And call me if you find anything!”

She flipped the phone closed and dashed into her bedroom to snag a pair of sneakers. She threw a light windbreaker over her T-shirt and yoga pants, grabbing her keys and purse on the fly. She paused to set the alarm on the apartment then dashed down the stairs and across the lawn to Nate’s back door.

She knocked hard, rapping her knuckles on the glass so hard it hurt. “Nate!” she called. “Nate, it’s Lily!”

She heard the dog barking, and the mad scramble of toenails on the floor as Beau came running into the kitchen. He leapt up on the other side of the door, his paws hitting the glass panes so hard they vibrated. He woofed at her, drool flying to hit the glass, and pawed at the door.

“Beau, down!” she scolded, unsurprised when he only woofed in response. “Nate!” she called, impatient now. When he didn’t respond to either her call or the continued racket from Beau, she frowned and jogged around the side of the house to the garage.