by D. R. Grady
“I heard you were a little excited about the equipment downstairs.”
Verity brightened as she surged into more detail than any of them understood.
“You had to ask.” Keith said this out of the corner of his mouth.
“I didn’t ask.” Molly shot back.
He laughed as he drained his coffee mug and rose to refill.
Verity wrinkled her nose at him. “You’re no scarier than Vlad and I can take him down.” Her older brother might have tricks, special training, and size, but Verity possessed all of those as well. The smallest in the room could be the deadliest, in her case.
Keith grinned and finished pouring his coffee. “I wonder why the twins don’t have a fancy coffee maker here.” He frowned at the regular machine.
“They do. There are at least three of them in the butlers pantry. I chose this one because I know how to work it.” His mother pointed to the one on the counter behind him.
“Ah, that makes sense. Are there other types of coffee to go along with the other makers?” Verity peeked into the butlers pantry with him. The display of coffee machines enticed both of them inside.
After an exchanged glance with Verity, he hefted one of the machines and she grabbed an assortment of coffee to use in said coffee brewer.
The others at the counter appeared impressed with their bounty. He placed the new maker beside the one his mother had selected and he and Verity got the machine up and running.
Hunter must have missed Verity because he exited the basement soon after and eyed her. He finally noticed what distracted her because he sniffed with appreciation. “Really?” The next sniff led him right to the brewing machine.
Verity eyed him knowingly. That particular gleam in her eye made Keith wish for things that clearly weren’t his…
§
Monday morning arrived and Harlow shoved a hand through her hair before she finished dressing. The delicate tea she had brewed didn’t begin to clear her thoughts but she continued to take sips.
Maybe a walk along the beach would help? She shared this sandy stretch with the Rembrandt twins. Their’s were the only two houses on this particular beach and as far as she knew, they hadn’t been in residence for a long time. The twins lived in New York City, London, and Los Angeles most of the time, seeing to their many business interests. Although the thought of the two of them in business meetings made her snicker, she did long for their company.
They understood her struggles as so many couldn’t.
Harlow finished her tea and after pocketing the necessities, left through the back door of her house. One of them anyway. Again, she questioned her father’s decision to buy this place. But she’d been left with it and needed to decide what to do with the mansion.
Selling it could be iffy, but perhaps it would work as a rental? The Rembrandts’ house might be ideal as a rental, but she didn’t know if hers would work with only five bedrooms. She shook her head. Again, why her father had thought this place a good investment she didn’t know. Of course, there hadn’t been a large selection back when he’d bought. This location likely had contributed to the purchase decision.
Harlow plodded onto the beach and turned toward the Rembrandts’ house. Sometimes seeing the towering structure helped to negate some of the loneliness that threatened to overwhelm her. Harlow sniggered at her own melodrama.
The princess all alone on her private beach. Harlow rolled her eyes at herself. Nesla van den Roos had at least as much money as the Horgates but she lived in a mansion on the other side of the island. Harlow didn’t pursue that line of thought.
Nesla and Harlow had never hit it off. They knew each other and even had friend connections, but she hadn’t felt the need to become friendly with Nesla. Nesla had befriended Jonathan and Tasmin Morris. Ah, another family with plenty of money. Maybe one of them wanted a mansion?
As she trailed down the beach, Harlow nodded at this thought. Yes, Tasmin was friendly and Harlow enjoyed spending time with her, but they’d both been so busy lately they hadn’t found time.
She frowned. Ignoring one’s friends wasn’t a good idea.
Her internal criticism got interrupted by the looming presence of a massive man. “Excuse me, this is a private beach.”
His military short dark hair and dark eyes were exactly what she admired in a man. His shoulders could block out the sun. She raised herself to her full height, aware this was not an impressive feat.
“Yes, it is.” She kept her tone acerbic and eyed him. The man looked familiar, but surely she’d remember one this large.
His dark eyebrow rose. “You know this beach is private and yet you’re on it?”
She nodded but kept her private life…private. “Of course. I am permitted to be on this beach.” Harlow kept her statement firm. Through the years she’d learned about leadership from her grandfather.
A pang infiltrated. Her grandparent certainly wasn’t his assertive self these days. She couldn’t allow sorrow to encompass her. Especially at this moment. Right now she had a facade to maintain…
“How do I know you’re permitted?”
“How do I know you’re permitted?” She countered easily, because in the wake of all that was happening, she couldn’t afford to offer concessions to people she didn’t know.
His nod could have meant anything. “We’re here,” and his vague indication was in the direction of the Rembrandt’s manse, “at the invitation of the owners.”
“As am I,” and she waved in the same vague manner toward her own home.
“You know the owners of that place?” He indicated her home.
“Yes.” Sometimes too well. “And I know the owners of your home as well.”
“Don’t the Horgate family own the place where you’re staying?” The manner in which he said her last name made her muscles tense.
“They do. I’m staying there with their full approval.”
This statement narrowed his eyes. “You know the Horgates?”
“I also know the Rembrandts.” She skated around that question. It still made her stiffen in protest. But Harlow bit her tongue. In light of the information she currently had been able to dig up, people had every reason to believe her family were corrupt. To the extent of killing employees.
This is where she drew the line. Actually, back at the corrupt part is where she drew the line.
He opened his mouth but a stinging sound between them made them grab each other and drag the other onto the beach. Her heart accelerated in her chest as the telltale smell of propellant rode the beach breeze.
Her companion muttered something and tried to cover her body with his much larger one.
“We can’t stay here, there’s no cover.” She shoved him off her and indicated the scrub not so far away. “Run like a rabbit.”
He didn’t argue, but his lips thinned. “How did you know that?”
“Instinct.” Or good training.
“Separate.” He nearly spit this, but she agreed and zigzagged one way while he took the other and they met behind the scrub protecting the entrance to the beach. It didn’t provide much cover but enough that they could hunker down. Bullets spattered sand around them as they sought to make themselves as small as possible.
An easier task for her than for him.
Her heart thumped as adrenaline surged through her. It took way too long to locate the cold metal of her small gun. She didn’t fumble as she extracted the weapon from where she had tucked it into a side pocket of her running gear.
She fired back, with no hesitation and with the impassive calm that her instructor had drilled into her long ago. As usual, her aim proved true as an exclamation filtered to them on the wind and the other gunman ceased shooting. She aimed a little to the left and fired again then to the right, to indicate she had a very good idea where the shooter stood.
Silence encompassed them until the roar of a vehicle in the distance indicated they were alone on this stretch of beach again. She didn’t relax her guard, nor did the man
with her.
“You carry a weapon while walking on the beach?” His eyebrows rose.
“I carry a weapon at all times.”
And Harlow didn’t tuck the weapon away either. The Rembrandt house was closer than her own, so her companion indicated for her to follow him. They hurried across the expanse that lay between them and the house, both of them again zigzagging.
And entered through the mud room door at the back of the house. Harlow indicated the powder room. “I need to wash my hands.” The stink of firing a weapon covered her hands and up her arms. While some might not mind the smell, she did.
His eyebrows rose again, but he nodded. Especially in light of her knowing exactly what this door hid. Again, she had every right to be on this beach and she did know the house and the Rembrandts.
Don’t be too upset. The man should be suspicious. The voice in the back of her mind curtailed her first inclination to bristle.
When she exited the powder room, he was waiting for her. “Who are you?”
She should have expected that question. And far sooner than now. That earlier caution made her hedge. “I’m Harlow Maxwell.” Harlow held out her hand to him. “Who are you?”
“Keith Monnette.” His even tone didn’t fool her.
Judge and jury were still out, debating her trustworthiness.
This pricked the little bubble of hope within. So this was the first man she’d found attractive in a couple of years. So he appeared to have some skills, maybe not up to hers, but he appeared to have been in the military. For certain he was big.
Her gaze narrowed when another man with dark hair and green eyes entered the mudroom. This silent entry didn’t make Keith, who faced her, jump.
“Montgomery, meet Harlow Maxwell.” Keith introduced them but kept his gaze on her.
Interesting. That Keith recognized the man without turning to look made her reconsider his skill set.
She held out her hand again to this new man. Also attractive, but not nearly as much as the massive man who’d dodged bullets with her. “I’m Harlow Maxwell.”
“Trace Montgomery.” Trace didn’t give anything away, much like Keith.
Harlow’s interest stirred. She sort of recognized Trace, but couldn’t place how she knew him.
“Keith, do you know where Trace is?” A stunning blonde entered the mudroom, her gaze on Keith, until she spotted Trace. Harlow didn’t have any trouble recognizing this woman.
Every person on the planet probably recognized Savannah Swanson.
Her heart dropped to her shoes. Meeting the woman who had lost her mother under suspicious circumstances, while working at Horgate Industries, made this investigation all too real.
Chapter 3
The brown haired, green eyed dichotomy standing by the powder room confused Keith. He couldn’t remember a woman who had done this. In his teenage years he’d been confused by females in general for a time, but had gotten over that.
Now, this woman with her pinup girl figure, gorgeous pale green eyes, intensity, and her after-the-rain freshness didn’t pair somehow with her ability to fire a weapon at an unseen target with the dexterity she’d shown. He could name a few men who could do what she’d displayed, but they’d spent years in special ops and had endured countless training sessions.
Yet here was an unknown woman on their beach who displayed such skills and who made his thoughts scatter.
This can’t be good.
Now she stood in front of Savannah, a woman he’d protect with his own life.
“Harlow, this is my little sister, Savannah Swanson.” He moved closer to Savannah. “Savannah this is our neighbor, Harlow Maxwell.”
Ever gracious, Savannah smiled at Harlow and shook her hand with all the kindness she displayed to her fans.
“I did recognize you. I expect you don’t go unnoticed.”
Keith couldn’t find anything wrong with the way Harlow interacted with Savannah. There was nothing suspicious in the way she gazed at his sister. Other than she seemed a little protective… how… what?
Harlow’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen. “My brother.”
“You’re welcome to take it.” Keith was further intrigued by her having a brother. His thoughts wouldn’t coalesce as to what he thought of her. She showed secret operative/special ops skills, but she’d been walking along a private beach with every appearance of belonging. She had a brother, so if she was undercover her cover story was complicated.
“I’ll text that I’ll call him later.” It didn’t take her long to reply to her brother’s phone call. If that was who the man really was. If she was undercover, this elaborate cover story was a good one. Especially if she managed to maintain it.
He’d like Eric, Hunter, and Verity’s take, as well as DuBois’s on Harlow. And seeing how Molly and his Mama reacted to her, not to mention the many bodyguards Savannah employed, would help. His instincts were too conflicted in their reaction to her.
He couldn’t remember a time when that had happened.
“So you just decided to bring a guest over?” Savannah’s gentle teasing made his back straighten.
“I brought Harlow here because someone tried to take pot shots at us on the beach.”
This smashed any further teasing.
“Someone shot at you?” Savannah’s hand covered her mouth. “Oh no.”
Trace wrapped an arm around her. “I think we’d better get the full story.” He turned toward the family room. Harlow passed through the kitchen to the space with the ease of someone who knew the house.
Either she was familiar with the space, or she had studied the layout very, very carefully. As far as he knew, the Rembrandts had kept the blueprints for this home under tight wraps. Wealthy people had to do that.
“How do you know the Rembrandts?” This question popped out before he could stop it, but it was a valid question.
“I grew up with them.”
This raised his hackles again. “So did I. But I don’t remember you.”
“The twins and I went to the same school. I hated it there and wanted to attend school here on Toliliel, but my mother wouldn’t hear of it. The twins rallied around me and helped me get through being away from home.”
Every word she spoke rang with truth. He didn’t detect a lie embedded within her simple statement.
“So you attended their private boarding school?”
She grimaced. “I did. I can’t think of anyone less suited to be a boarding school student. But my mother was on her third husband by then, I think, and didn’t particularly want me around, so I went to boarding school.”
“You didn’t go to school here on Toliliel but you’re from here?” Savannah tucked hair behind her ear. Her engagement ring shone in the sunlight filtering through the massive wall of windows on the far side of the room.
“I am. And no. I’d have preferred attending school here, but again, my mother had different ideas.”
“Boarding schools are expensive.” Montgomery said what the rest of them seemed disinclined to say.
Harlow’s nod was swift. “They are. My mother married well each time she repeated vows.”
So this offered a picture of Harlow’s life. He didn’t assume any of it was true, however. Although it appeared she believed what she said.
“You didn’t make friends?”
“I did.”
“Did you befriend the Horgates too?” Montgomery and Savannah both gaped at him. “Harlow is living next door at the Horgate mansion.”
“The Horgate family own a house next door?” Savannah’s hand fluttered to cover her heart. “Why didn’t I know that?”
“Verity only verified it this morning.”
“Ah, so that’s why you were on that end of the beach. You came to see the Horgate mansion. As you saw, it’s a bit of a folly.” Harlow’s easy answer made her one of the hardest people he’d ever tried to read.
Odd, since he’d been in special ops and they all competed for that title. An
d here was a rich, spoiled girl, maybe that was harsh, but Harlow didn’t gape at the furnishings or the obvious signs of wealth in this room alone. Her mother had apparently married well a couple of times, so she must be used to wealth.
I can’t relate.
“I had already checked out the house and everything nearby.” His offering that subtle warning didn’t go unnoticed by Harlow or Montgomery. It appeared to sail over Savannah’s head.
Which might be just as well.
Amusement lit Harlow’s stunning eyes. Subdued, but he did catch the nuances. Harlow reminded him strongly of Verity. A female secret operative, but he was certain he’d never worked with her, and he knew a great many of them. Or he’d heard of them, and this one wouldn’t have gone unnoticed.
That raised plenty more alarms.
“You went through the house where I’m living?” Harlow kept her tone even but he and Montgomery both recognized the challenge within her question.
“No, that would be trespassing. I just got a feel for the lay of the land.” Keith didn’t add that every single member of their team had done the same.
“I see.” Her curves kept distracting him. Weird for him. Keith forced himself to stay in the conversation.
Montgomery might be distracted by Savannah, but he remained on task with Harlow. Keith appreciated that. “How long have you lived there?”
“I moved in recently.” She didn’t expound on this. He caught nuances that she could have.
“You got shot at while on the beach?” Savannah cut through their vying-for-information dance to jab into the heart of the matter.
“We did.” Harlow’s shoulders remained erect and her gaze steady.
“Who were they aiming at?” Montgomery turned to him.
“The first bullet sliced right between us.” Harlow tapped a finger on her lower lip.
All thoughts in his mind seeped out. But he forced them to return. “It’s hard to know which one of us they aimed at.”
“Did they shoot more than once?”
“Yes. A spatter of bullets for a bit there.”
Montgomery’s eyebrows touched. “Did the shooter run out of bullets or what scared him off?”