Naughty Stranger

by Stacey Kennedy

  Peyton pondered that. “Why wouldn’t Boone want to see you happy? He seems reasonable.”

  Remy laughed, raising her arm high in the air, really getting the sage up in the corners. “Most times he is, but Rhett is all trouble, and Boone knows that.”

  Kinsley agreed with a nod. “Rhett’s a player with a capital P. He only plays once too. That’s it. Never again. You see the problem.”

  “I guess that would be a problem,” Peyton said.

  “So, I pine and pine for a man I’ll never have,” Kinsley said dramatically, waving her hand at her face. “I’ve accepted it. That’s just life.”

  Peyton could tell that wasn’t really true. And by the sympathy on Remy’s face, so did she. Peyton didn’t say more on the subject. Love was hard. Sometimes it could hurt more than feel good. Peyton knew that. “The guys are really close, aren’t they?” she asked, switching the subject.

  “God, yeah, so close,” Remy said.

  Kinsley crossed her legs on the counter, dropped her chin into her hand. “They’ve always been like brothers. They fight like brothers. They take care of each other like brothers. It’s sweet.”

  Peyton agreed, but she got stuck on something Kinsley said. “What do you mean by ‘take care of each other’?”

  “Over the years, every one of them had, what we’ll call”—Remy made quotation marks with her fingers—“a bad spot in their lives. A time where everything seemed to fall apart, and luckily, for them, they swarm in and help each other. Kinsley’s right, they’re all these tough guys, but are so sweet to each other, even if they’d never admit that aloud.”

  Kinsley nodded. “It’s what makes them such good detectives. They fill in each other’s missing pieces. They’ve always been that way, ever since they were really little.” She smiled, then waggled her eyebrows. “Now back to my brother. Are you two getting married?”

  Peyton laughed. “Oh, yes, don’t you know, he asked me to marry him before we left my house.”

  “Ah, that’s so romantic of him.” Kinsley smiled.

  Peyton felt the tension rise up in her chest, not wanting anyone to get the wrong idea. “But again, you’re looking way too much into this. Nothing has changed since the last time we talked. I like your brother, but the last thing I want is a serious boyfriend. I’m just not there right now.”

  Remy gave her a smile full of understanding and shook her head firmly. “And there is nothing wrong with that,” she said to Kinsley. To Peyton, her smile softened. “We all have our secrets. You tell us what you want. The rest we’ll save for those really drunk nights where we sit and cry and talk about stuff we don’t want to and then wake up the next day and pretend none of that happened.”

  “Now that sounds fun,” Peyton said with a laugh. But she wanted her secrets to stay in Seattle. She drew in a deep breath, letting that go, and the overwhelming earthy aroma wafted over her, making her cough, right as the door chimed open.

  A dozen middle-aged ladies strode in, carrying flowers, platters of desserts, and cookies.

  “My dreams have come true,” Kinsley practically purred.

  Peyton laughed.

  Remy moved into the back with the sage.

  “Hi, Peyton,” Ruth-Ann, the local librarian, said. “We wanted to bring you some goodies, just to make your day better.” She handed her the platter. “You know, with all that happened yesterday and stuff.”

  “Thank you so much,” Peyton said, still unable to get used to how friendly people were around there.

  The women behind Ruth-Ann looked around the shop; obviously the murder had infiltrated the town’s gossip train. Everyone likely wanted the dirt. They moved in, setting down the treats and flowers on the counter.

  “Well, we won’t keep you, dear,” another lady said with a pleasant smile. “Don’t forget you’ve got lots of friends here. If you need us, we’re a phone call away.”

  “I really appreciate that.” Peyton smiled. “Thanks for all the treats. They look amazing.”

  The ladies filed out, and Kinsley grabbed a cookie and took a big bite. “Don’t be fooled by their niceness. They’re here to find out everything they can so they can all dish about it later.”

  Peyton laughed. “If they bring me cookies, they can come whenever they want.”

  “The back is all cleansed,” Remy said, continuing to lift the sage above her head. “The energy in here feels bad, though. Thick.”

  Kinsley shook her head, obviously not understanding Remy’s feelings, but loving her anyway.

  The door chimed open again. Peyton turned expecting more townsfolk. Instead, her mind failed to process the man closing the door behind him. A man from her past, carrying a bouquet of flowers.

  “Peyton.” A warm smile crossed his smooth, chiseled face.

  “Justin,” she managed to choke out. Justin Blake was Adam’s roommate in college, and later, his business partner. After Adam inherited his grandfather’s real estate business, Adam and Justin had an idea to grow the company together. Since Justin came from harder times, Adam had given him fifty percent of the business in a show of good faith, solidifying their business partnership and creating K&B Properties. Together, they had taken the company and made a multimillion-dollar empire out of it by purchasing corporate real estate.

  “You actually did it.” His bright light brown eyes scanned the shop. “Interesting endeavor.”

  “Interesting shoes,” Kinsley quipped.

  Justin sent his bright smile in Kinsley’s direction. A sexy grin that had landed him in many women’s beds. Justin oozed charm and had model good looks. “My shoes aren’t working for you?” he asked Kinsley with an arch to his eyebrow.

  She arched her eyebrow right back. “Depends. Do you spend as much time shining your shoes as you spend looking in the mirror?”

  Peyton smiled at Kinsley. Her protectiveness was a strength for sure. Peyton could have used a friend like her in Seattle.

  Justin just laughed. Peyton didn’t doubt for a second that he’d respect the hell out of Kinsley—and he’d want to sleep with her too, just to prove he could win her over. Adam and Justin might have been as close as brothers, but their personalities were worlds apart. Adam loved deeply. Justin played hard.

  Remy sidled up next to Kinsley, obviously showing a solid front. “Is he welcome here?” she asked Peyton.

  “Yes, sorry, of course.” To Justin, she said, “I’m just really surprised to see you.” Maybe another understatement of the year. Seeing Justin again brought warmth and tightness to her chest at the same time. She turned to Remy and Kinsley. “This is Justin Blake, a good friend from Seattle.”

  Justin glanced between the women and then smiled gently at Peyton. “It appears you’ve got yourself some good friends here too.”

  “She does, and don’t forget it.” Kinsley hopped off the counter and asked Peyton, “You’re good if we leave? I’ve got to stock the bar fridges.”

  “Yeah, I’m good, thanks for coming by.” She smiled at Remy. “And for the extra protection.”

  “Anytime.” Remy strode by Justin, stopped in front of him, and then waved some sage around him. “You’re welcome,” she said to him, then left the shop, leaving the door open.

  Justin glanced sideways at Peyton, nose scrunched. “What in the hell was that?”

  “A New Age witch warding off evil spirts.” When Justin frowned, Peyton waved her hand. “Don’t ask, just go with it.”

  “If you say so,” Justin muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets.

  Kinsley moved closer to Justin and looked down at his shoes. “Might want to scuff those shoes up a little. Don’t want the ladies thinking you’re prettier than them.”

  “I’ll take your advice under advisement.” His mouth twitched, and his gaze followed Kinsley as she left the shop. When the door shut tight, he turned to Peyton. “Damn. I like that one.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Peyton laughed softly. “It’s really good to see you.”

  “Likew
ise.” His smile became tender as he moved to her and then took her in a warm hug. Justin and Adam had been as close as brothers. Being in his arms almost felt like being in Adam’s. So familiar. The scent of Justin’s citrusy cologne flooded her with memories. Ones that were so much easier to forget than to remember. They just reminded her how much she missed Adam. And made her feel equally as guilty for sleeping with Boone last night.

  When Justin leaned away, he offered her the flowers. “As a congratulations for your new shop. When your mom told me, I had to see this for myself.” He glanced around at the trays of sweets. “I see I’m already late, though.”

  “This is just the town being its friendly self,” she said, not planning on saying a thing about the murder. The last thing she needed was Justin telling her mom what happened in her shop. Her parents had enough to worry about, like their grieving daughter quitting her job, uprooting her life, and leaving the city she grew up in and everyone she knew.

  “Your very own shop in a small town,” Justin said proudly. “You talked about that so many times during school, and here you are, you’ve done it.”

  Yeah, she had talked about it. But then Adam’s grandfather died, and he inherited the business before he even finished college. He couldn’t leave Seattle, and she wanted Adam. So those dreams of opening a little shop faded and a nursing career made more sense. “I know this place is a step out of what I used to do, but I think that’s kinda what makes it so great.”

  “It is great, Peyton,” he said, warmth in his eyes. “So great.”

  She smiled, thinking Adam would probably look just like Justin right now, bursting with pride if he were still there. She forced the emotion back with a deep swallow and realized Justin carried a file folder that must have been hidden by the flowers. “I also take it you didn’t fly all the way here just to bring me flowers.”

  “Annual stuff needs to be signed.” He held up the folder.

  “Oh, okay.” In Adam’s estate, he had written that it was her choice to sell his share of the company if he should pass away. But somehow, selling the last bit of Adam was like erasing him completely. Justin was in the business for the money. Adam hadn’t been. And she kept thinking that if she let go of the company and let Justin have full control, he’d turn the business into something Adam never wanted. Adam—and his grandfather—cared about their customers. Justin looked at the cash value. So she monitored things from a distance, and reached out to Adam’s father for advice when needed.

  When she was ready, she’d sell. But not right now.

  Peyton moved to the counter and opened the folder as pedestrians strode by her window. Twenty-four hours was all it took for the town to settle back into the busy, summer fun in the sun life, where murders didn’t happen to good people. Peyton skimmed the documents relating to the companies’ stocks, to board position changes. The items were all the boring things Adam used to talk about and she listened because she loved him.

  After she signed the last page, she handed the folder back to Justin. “Thanks,” he said with a soft smile. “From now on, I’ll email you over the documents and you can sign and FedEx them back, but I wanted—”

  Emotion held heavy in his voice. She moved toward him and hugged him again. “Thanks for coming and making sure I’m okay.”

  “I feel like I owe it to Adam, you know?” He hugged her tight.

  Her heart wanted to break so desperately, but she couldn’t allow that. Life had to move on. “You were a good friend to him,” she said, leaning away.

  His smile was warm and tender and full of all the heartache she felt herself. “You were a good wife.”

  “I was, wasn’t I?” She laughed softly to lighten the mood.

  Justin laughed too, then moved to the door. She knew he wouldn’t stay longer, and she knew why she didn’t want him to. Because this was life in Seattle. She was the reminder to everyone of what they had lost. When they saw her face, they saw Adam’s face. And that reminder was too hard, too raw.

  He opened the door, and before he left, he turned back to her. “You’re really doing okay out here, aren’t you?”

  For the first time since she’d left Seattle, she realized an amazing truth. “Yeah, I really am.”

  Chapter 5

  Just before noon, Boone leaned back against the chair in the command center and stretched out his arms. The beginning of any case was hard, trudging through the evidence until something made sense and they caught a lead that took them in the right direction.

  Feeling the tension along his shoulders, he rose, moving to the window, staring out at dogs playing in the park across the street. No matter how hard he tried, he kept circling back to Peyton. Nothing could turn a bad day around faster than a lithe warm woman to get his mind off a tough case. The difference now was that he wasn’t thinking about her body, he was thinking about all of her. She kept parts of herself tucked away, and he couldn’t ignore that he wanted to know those parts. Very intimately.

  And wasn’t that just his luck. He didn’t want a woman in his life. Now he finally met one he felt something stronger for than a sexual connection, and she was 100 percent off-limits. Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try to edge her closer toward him, until she realized that was exactly where she wanted to be.

  He turned his mind back onto the case. Lead after lead had them running in circles. For a robbery, the scene was too clean. Too organized. Which, of course, only brought forth more questions.

  “I finally had that sit-down with Francis’s ex-boyfriend,” Rhett announced, entering the command center. “He’s a dead end.”

  Not the news they wanted. Especially considering her ex-boyfriend had stood out as a suspect since they’d had trouble finding the guy. “Got nothing off him?” Boone asked.

  “His alibi is tight,” Rhett reported, dropping down into the chair near the whiteboard. “He’s been crashing at his friend’s place since the breakup with Francis and working for that friend’s detail shop.”

  That explained why they couldn’t find a home address. “What’s his reasoning for not retuning our calls?”

  Rhett slouched in the chair, looking as tired as Boone felt. “He said he smashed the phone during a fight with Francis.”

  “Seems a bit convenient,” Boone pointed out.

  Rhett inclined his head in agreement. “Believe me, on the outside he looks like our guy. He’s got a temper and knows it. But he worked the night of the murder. On the security tape, he’s seen clocking in at seven o’clock at night and clocking out at seven in the morning. I’ve given the tape to the techs to see if it’s been tampered with, but my guess is that it hasn’t.” Rhett paused and grabbed his phone from his pocket—obviously a text had come through—before adding, “Besides, when I told him that Francis had been murdered, he lost it.”

  “You believed him?”

  Rhett nodded. “He’s not our suspect.”

  Damn. Then where exactly did this leave them? Most crimes were personal. The gunshot wound at the back of the head suggested guilt; the killer didn’t want to watch the victim die.

  Why?

  “We need to look at this again with fresh eyes.” Frustrated, Boone settled in front of the whiteboard where all the facts were now either written or posted. Not that it was doing them any good. “There’s something we’re missing here.”

  “Yeah,” Rhett said. “The killer.”

  Boone snorted, staring into Francis’s clear eyes in her photograph. They’d gone into her history. Yeah, she had some skeletons in her closet, but who didn’t? Hell, if Boone’s dad hadn’t been a cop back in the day, Boone would’ve been hit with an underage drinking charge as a teen when he got caught with alcohol in the park.

  “Anything from her family?” Boone asked, turning back to Rhett.

  Rhett folded his arms across his black T-shirt, shaking his head. “Her parents had been close to Francis, but said since she’d met her ex, she’d become distant.”

  “No siblings?”

&nbs
p; “Not that they told me. I’ll go back and take a harder look at the parents today. But my gut tells me there’s nothing there.”

  Boone mulled this over. The murder didn’t feel random, a spontaneous act of violence. Francis wasn’t raped or sexually assaulted. Again, he kept circling back to the same thing. “The murder feels personal.”

  “That’s where I’m at with this too.”

  Needing to think this through, Boone moved to the long table across from Rhett that was pushed up against the wall, and leaned against the edge, folding his arms. “Anything come from the cameras on Main Street?”

  “The only camera aimed at the back side of the buildings is at Kinsley’s bar”—and that’s only because Boone had her install it—“sadly, though, it doesn’t extend to the back door of Peyton’s shop. The cameras on Main Street didn’t show anyone going in the front door.”

  Boone sighed, considering again. “All right. We know that Francis was murdered sometime between nine and eleven at night.”

  “Yeah,” Rhett confirmed. “And that her shitty ex-boyfriend isn’t involved.”

  “And that the robbery appeared to be staged.” Boone studied the facts laid out on the board in front of him. “We’ve got nothing more from the crime lab?” The only word they’d heard back so far was on the autopsy report. A through-and-through gunshot wound to the back of the head. No defensive wounds.

  “Crime techs are working through the prints now. No hits so far.”

  Which meant that the prints on file weren’t in AFIS. More and more, Boone kept circling back to the gunshot wound. “Any similar crimes in the area?”

  “Minus the murder, a bunch of robberies around town,” Rhett said.

  Boone ran a hand over his eyes. He didn’t like this. Not when Peyton was involved. And not with the murder taking place so close to Kinsley’s club. “We’re missing something. I can feel it.”

  “All we need is one break,” Rhett said. “It’ll happen. It’s always does, especially with the parents offering up a reward.” He hesitated. “Now don’t lose your shit, but I think it’s time to take a harder look at Peyton, especially considering the victim looked like Peyton, and the robbery happened in her store. She got any secrets?”