“I haven’t been here long enough to find out.”
“When did you leave LA?” I ask, navigating the thin Sunday morning traffic back to the north side.
“Four days ago.”
She doesn’t say more, and the subject is closed. It’s for the best. We need to get down to business.
“Had you received death threats back in Cali?”
“Of course. More than one.”
Fuck. “Had anyone broken into your place?”
“They couldn’t. I lived in a high-security building. You can’t even operate the elevator without a card key. But I couldn’t stay in my apartment forever. And once Oliver started running a few weeks ago, he went stir crazy if I didn’t take him to the park at least once a day. But the minute I stepped out of my building, it was a zoo, especially right after Barclay was killed.”
So she’d exchanged security for distance, hoping she could have a life, and it hadn’t worked out? “Who killed him?”
“A former client named Paul Daniels.” She shakes her head. “I know what you’re thinking, and he isn’t the one threatening me now. Not only was he in jail, he died of cancer last month.”
“Do you have any idea who else might want to kill you? Do you know the name of anyone who’s threatened you?”
“No. Most threats came online.”
“Keyboard warriors are always brave when they’re hiding behind screen names.”
“A few more antagonistic people came to yell in my face. But the police never took any of them seriously. Most of the time they had no plan, no weapon… They decided ‘I’ll kill you’ was a figure of speech.”
That’s not a surprise, but since someone had tried to gut her last night? “I’m not. I’m taking this very seriously.”
“Thanks. I’m just sorry I don’t know anything.”
“If you remember anyone who threatened you more than once or followed you somewhere—anything sinister or scary—let me know.” I have a feeling someone fits that description, but with everything she’s been through in the last few hours, she can’t remember.
“Maybe it’s a former client of Barclay’s who lives on Maui and decided to take advantage of the situation while I’m here?”
“Did he have clients in Maui?”
“I don’t know.” She glances away, almost as if she doesn’t want to look me in the face. “We didn’t talk business much.”
I get the feeling they didn’t talk a lot in general, and she’s embarrassed by that. “How would anyone have known you were here in Maui? Did you put it on social media?”
She shakes her head. “I deactivated all my accounts when my relationship with Barclay became public after his arrest, and I didn’t tell anyone I was coming except my dad and my brother.”
And who knows if they told anyone else. I sigh as I pull up to Joe’s apartment building. It’s two stories, painted a garish turquoise blue, and sitting up on a hill surrounded by a retaining wall made of rock. The inside is even less special…except the nice view of the Pacific three blocks away.
“Who does this place belong to?”
“A friend’s dad. Let’s go.”
“I don’t want to wake Oliver.” She looks back at him. “He’s just fallen asleep.”
“I can’t leave you two outside while I pack, and I need you someplace safe where I can think. Pick him up and—” When she grimaces, I sigh. “What’s the problem?”
“He’s getting too big for me to wrangle out of his car seat without waking him.”
“You want me to do it?”
“Would you?”
If it will get her out of the parking lot, where any asshole with a gun could shoot her, and into a safer space, I don’t have much choice.
“I’ll try. No promises.” Especially since I know nothing about kids.
She eases out of the car, purse slung over her shoulder. “I appreciate the help.”
I nod—and try not to stare. Since I gave her three minutes to change before we left Nia’s place, Amanda isn’t wearing anything particularly interesting—a white T-shirt tied in a knot at her navel, a pair of faded cutoffs, a pink ball cap, and a matching pair of flip-flops. But it shows off the curve of her breasts, her small waist, and the long expanse of her tanned thighs. It shouldn’t be sexy…but she gives me another instant erection.
Jesus, as soon as I’m done guarding her body, I need to get laid.
Muttering a curse, I flip up the front seat of the two-door coupe, then unbuckle the sleeping boy from his seat. He barely stirs as I lift him against my chest. I have to admit, he weighs more than I expected. No wonder a little thing like her is having trouble.
“Follow me.”
She nods, then I head across the parking lot and down the east side of the building to Joe’s front door. Oliver smells like sunshine, grass, and Cheerios. It’s not altogether unpleasant. Then he flings an arm over my shoulder and turns his head until his nose is half-buried in my neck.
Okay, I admit it. He’s actually cute. But that’s another distraction I don’t need.
When we reach Joe’s door, I juggle the boy long enough to shove the key in the lock, then I wave Amanda inside, scan my surroundings once more, and shut the door. As I flip the deadbolt, her phone starts buzzing in her purse.
Easing Oliver onto the rumpled bed, I turn as she pulls the device free. “Who is it?”
Any chance her would-be killer is someone she knows? Someone now trying to track her down?
“My brother. I’m sure he’s worried.”
If he has any intention of coming around and mucking up my arrangements, it’s a no from me.
I gesture to her. “You can answer it, but you can’t tell him where you are. The fewer people who know, the better.”
She presses her lips together before she takes the call. “Hi, Stephen. Are you home from the hospital? How are Skye and the baby? Is she still spotting?” After a brief pause, she interrupts. “No. Stop. I’m fine. Oliver is fine.” Another pause. “That didn’t happen.” And another. “I wasn’t going to call you in the middle of the night when I knew you and Skye were at the ER. Nia and I are big girls. We handled it.”
I don’t know what he’s saying to her, but I can hear his deep voice and seeming agitation across the room.
“No. I’m not coming to stay with you. I refuse to put either of you at risk. Skye doesn’t need more problems right now, especially ones she didn’t create. She needs you to focus on her and the baby. I’ve got a bodyguard named Tanner. I’m with him. I’ll be fine.” Her brother spits something less than calm through the phone, and she rolls her eyes. “Why? I don’t see what good that will do.”
Amanda listens, now pacing from one side of the small studio apartment to the other, seemingly gearing up to defend herself again. What the hell? Doesn’t he think Amanda has been through enough?
Her family shit is none of your business.
After all, they have wealth. I’ll bet they have the connections to go with it. I know how ruthlessly people like that operate. I can’t afford to get tangled up in their strife.