Regan Harris Box Set

by Kelly Wood

  "Peter," Gray and Liam said in unison. Liam continued with the rest of the explanation. "Both Gray and I knew about your going to the warehouse, we just didn't know where it was. Luckily, Peter knew."

  "Peter didn’t know which unit you were in, but we thought it wouldn’t matter. We’d find you.” Gray laughed. “We didn't need it, anyway. Once we stepped through the doors, we could hear you two yelling at each other.”

  “I didn’t even hear you.”

  “How could you? I was in a hurry to get the door open. I thought you were going to start duking it out,” Liam said.

  “But, we had the key inside with us. How did you get the lock open?” Jax asked.

  “Peter had copies of all your keys,” Gray said.

  The waitress broke up our conversation by bringing over plates of tapas. We were at one of our favorite places. The rain and clouds had dissipated while we were in the warehouse, so we chose to sit outside at a table for four that was available. Jax and I ventured in long enough to clean off a little of the dust and grime on our faces and hands. Our clothes were hopeless, though.

  The four of us shared each plate, marveling at the richness of the food. A carafe of red sangria helped to wash down the meal. We spent the evening laughing and talking. I found that Jax was right. Liam was not only sweet but very attentive to her. Even though our afternoon had been passed harmlessly, he was still concerned for both of our welfares. He wasn’t her usual type. I thought this was the change she needed. Liam turned the conversation to a more serious subject after our second carafe of sangria.

  "Ben has been released. Official charges were never filed," Liam said.

  "Why?" I asked.

  "We have security tape footage of him knocking on the door to the pub, but not entering. It confirms his timeline." Liam looked down but continued talking. "Unfortunately, the video recording stops shortly after he walked away from the door.”

  “Isn’t that telling in itself? Does the tape pick back up?” I asked.

  “It does about two hours later. We see Peter entering the back door. The rest we know since we were there.”

  “Can you CSI the tape?” Liam looked at me blankly. “No?”

  “One. It isn’t a tape. It records digitally. Someone reprogrammed the system to stop for two hours before resuming its normal function.”

  “Someone like a security expert?” Gray asked.

  “Maybe. Probably. But, we can’t prove it.” Liam set his fork down. He leaned forward in his chair, looking me in the eye.

  “I’m telling you this to warn you.”

  “Me?” I asked. “What for?”

  “You have had suspicious activity around you lately. The snake in the tub, getting locked in the warehouse. I want you to be careful.”

  “Jax was with me on both those occasions.”

  “But, Jax doesn’t have a history with Ben,” he said.

  “And I do. That’s what you’re saying. That’s the link between us.”

  “Yes. Ben seems focused on you, lately. Ever since you poured that beer on him, his attention has been all on you. I don’t know your history with him, but he can be dangerous. You need to be careful.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  "This whole business makes me nervous. I'll take you wherever you want to go," Gray said.

  "Absolutely not. You have work to do."

  "I will take you wherever you need to go." Gray’s face reflected the serious tone. I knew that look. If I tried arguing the point, we would just end up fighting.

  "And don't try sneaking away when I'm not looking," he said.

  “We’re not even married yet, and you are offering up ultimatums?”

  “When it comes to your protection, yes.” Gray relaxed his posture, running his hands through his hair. “Please, Regan.”

  "Okay, bossy. Sheesh." I turned away so he wouldn't see the guilty look on my face. I wasn’t good at promises I wouldn’t really work hard to keep.

  We were back at Peter's condo. I was toweling off from my shower. Dinner had been nice. Liam might be just the guy to tame some of Jax’s fire.

  "I'm not done with you," Gray said. He had snuck up behind me, startling me out of my thoughts.

  "I said okay."

  "Oh, I'm done talking. I'm just not done with you." He reached around my waist, pulling me snugly against his body.

  I loved the feel of his body against mine. The hard planes of his chest pressed against the softer curves of mine. Gray walked me back while kissing me. I felt the edge of the bed hit my knees a moment before falling back. Gray followed me, never breaking the kiss.

  I’d missed this. I’d missed him. But, just as I was giving myself over to the feelings he was creating, he pulled away.

  “Wait, where are you going?” I asked. I reached for his shirt to pull him back to me. His hands wrapped around mine, releasing my grip.

  “Not until the wedding night.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Nope. I want the whole experience.”

  “But we’ve done this before. A lot.”

  “I know. And waiting will make it that much better on the wedding night.”

  “I don’t want to wait.” My voice was as whiny as a cranky toddler.

  “I don’t want to either, but we are doing this the right way. My advice?” Gray stood up fully. “Pick a date sooner rather than later.”

  I picked up one of the throw pillows off the bed and used it as the name suggests. He caught it before it hit his chest.

  I woke up to the memory replaying in my head. I wished it had only been a dream. I wavered between being more upset over his demanding to be my babysitter or his denying me his body. Gray might have thought I was stubborn, but he had steely control over himself. He spent the night sharing my bed, but never touched me more than to put his arm around me.

  The morning was bright and clear again. This was turning into one of the best springs Chicago had had in years. My body longed to go for a run on the lake, but I knew Gray would never go for that. A walk, maybe; a run, never. My mind practically demanded a run to clear itself. I compromised by doing some yoga to loosen up my tensed muscles.

  Peter had already left for the restaurant, leaving the house quiet with Gray still asleep. I set up my laptop and notebook on the kitchen island. Morning was the best time to write, when everyone else was still sleeping. Without any distractions except the clicking of a keyboard. I tried to take advantage of the time.

  After twenty minutes and three new words, I gave up to browse the internet. I’d been so focused on the pub and the weird money situation that I realized I’d skipped over the most important aspect of Anya’s murder. Anya herself. I logged onto Facebook and searched for her account. I had accepted a friend request from her years ago. Anya used her account regularly, posting pictures of her life. I scanned them looking at her apartment and friends. Her friends all seemed to be employed at O’Kelly’s. One picture caught my eye. It was Anya and some of the girls from the pub at a club. There was nothing special about the picture itself other than the background. When I squinted my eyes and looked closely I could spot Ben’s profile. Interesting.

  Since I was already ignoring work, I wandered over to the O'Kelly's Pub webpage. It looked like any other bar/restaurant website with hours of operation and photos of happy staff, smiling customers and steaming food. Peter still used a picture of him, Jax and I behind the bar from a New Year’s Eve party. One tab caught my eye. Almost hidden, like it wasn’t meant to be stumbled upon, was the link for hiring the bartenders for offsite events.

  The page loaded, revealing photos of the employees. I scrolled through the list. Each photo showed the girls heavily made up wearing slightly provocative clothing. Peter was right, sex sells.

  I clicked on the first photo of a girl named Sarah. I’d never seen her around the pub, but I hadn't spent all that much time there either since being home. She was a pretty girl with dark hair and blue eyes. The link took you to the page
to “book” her, asking for a day, start time and end time. I picked today, in one hour, clicking “book.” The next page popped up, asking for login information. I tried to create an account but was guided to call a local number.

  Why not? I wasn’t actually planning on booking her, so what could it hurt? I definitely didn’t have an extra thousand dollars lying around. I picked up my phone and dialed.

  "O'Kelly's Bar," a familiar voice said.

  "Seth?" I asked.

  "Yes, how may I help you?"

  "It’s Regan."

  "Regan? What are you doing? Why are you calling this number? This is the private line for party bookings," Seth said.

  "I don't know. Sorry, I must have dialed the wrong number. I'll call Peter's cell."

  "No problem. Later."

  Hmmm. Reaching Seth could be just what I needed. I went upstairs to rouse Gray, but he was already awake.

  "How about lunch at the pub? You haven't had a chance to say hello to everyone, yet," I suggested.

  "That sounds good. Give me an hour."

  Two hours later, we were downtown enjoying our meal. Seth came over to say hello, giving me the opportunity I was hoping for.

  "Tell me more about the offsite service. It sounds like a great idea," I asked. Some people needed subtlety, but I knew Seth would answer any questions I had. Thank goodness, because subtlety wasn’t my thing.

  "I told you about it. People call in and order bartenders or servers as needed for private parties. It’s mostly stuff held out at estates or in local hotel ballrooms."

  "The website looked nice. But, if you can hire someone from the site why do you have to call the number listed to get an account?" I asked.

  Seth hesitated before answering me. I realized I was pushing him too hard to answer my questions. I relaxed my body hoping he wouldn’t think I was too anxious for him to answer. It seemed to work.

  "Peter wants to keep the service elite. It’s easier for everyone this way. Fewer people on the payroll, less confusion with scheduling, etcetera. New clients are by referral only. That’s why the number is listed."

  "I see. Smart idea. Less hassle and overhead," I said. “But, why can you schedule a bartender in as little as an hour. Nobody plans a party that quickly. Not even Peter.”

  “I think in case you have a cancellation. You know, like you needed a last-minute replacement.”

  “That does make sense. Thanks. I’m glad the business is doing well.” I picked up my fork again, pretending to want to end the conversation. I hoped I was giving off a casual vibe. I didn’t want to alert anyone that I was questioning the business. Seth seemed to get my hint and excused himself from the table.

  "Regan, what are you up to?" Gray asked. I might’ve fooled Seth, but I clearly hadn’t fooled Gray.

  "Nothing." I dug into my salad like I really intended to eat though more as an excuse not to look at him.

  "Regan . . ."

  “Nothing. Isn’t it nice to see our old friends?” Gray looked down his nose at me. Since his spidey-sense was clearly tingling, I gave in. There was no reason to try and hide my plan since I would need his help. Plus, he’d already promised to stick to me like glue.

  "How much money do you have?" I asked. Sighing, Gray reached for his wallet.

  "I don't want to know, do I?"

  “How much money you have? You should want to know.”

  “Cheeky. Do you need cash or a credit card?” He waited for my answer, but I waved the question away.

  "No, keep it. I’m going to need more than your money."

  “Regan.” My name sounded like a plea on his lips.

  I excused myself and told him I’d be ready to leave in a few minutes. I tricked Seth into letting me into the office while he was too busy to watch over my shoulder. Even though I hadn’t returned my keys to Peter, I didn’t have them on me today. When I was doing payroll on Monday, I noticed a special client list on the computer. I was hoping it was the right one to fake a referral. I took a photo of the list with my phone and snuck back out.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  A plan formed over lunch. I would’ve preferred to execute it by myself, but I ended up needing Gray and Jax for it. Gray still seemed leery, but Jax didn’t hesitate when I asked to use her apartment. The plan was weak and expensive, but I hoped to prove Peyton’s theory correct, that the pub was a modern-day whorehouse, with it. I also hoped I could use the thousand dollars we were about to spend as a tax write-off. I made a mental note to ask Peyton if I could deduct it as research for a future book.

  Gray’s part was vital to the whole thing. He needed to pretend to want to schedule one of the girls. When I outlined my idea to him, he just sighed and held his hand out for the phone. Gray was on the phone now with Seth. His voice had been disguised. Who knew his talent of mimicking accents would come in handy? Right then he sounded a little like Sean Connery.

  Using the list of clients, I photographed at the restaurant, Gray was giving references. I had my fingers crossed that asking for references was just for show. I held out hope that they wouldn’t actually be called since anyone who didn’t know about the business wouldn’t call anyway.

  Gray was clenching his hand into a fist. I assumed he had made it to the payment portion of the phone call. If I was reading his face correctly, then the clenching of his fist was to stop him from strangling me. I hoped his anger over the money was enough of a distraction to keep his mind from realizing that I was actually up to no good. I waved my fingers at him and smiled innocently.

  "You owe me. Big time," Gray said when he hung up the phone. "A thousand dollars big time."

  "I know. I think it'll be for a good cause," I said, raising my hands in defense. Doubts started to cloud my thinking. What if I was right? What if Peter were involved in something illegal? Would I turn him in? Could I turn him in? Jax’s voice snapped me back.

  "What, Regan? How many drinks do you expect her to pour for us in one hour?" Jax said.

  A knock at the door interrupted us. The three of us looked at each other, but no one moved. We knew it is too early for the escort to get here, so who could it be?

  “Only one way to find out.” Jax moved toward the door. I held my breath in anticipation. I prayed my plan wasn’t foiled. If the escort showed up before we were ready, she might see Jax and know something wasn’t quite right about our order. My worry was for nothing. Jax came back into the living room with Liam.

  Crap. I can’t have a cop here! Liam could blow this whole thing. I glanced outside over my shoulder. Liam’s unmarked detective’s sedan sat downstairs double parked in front of the door. An unmarked police car? What a crock! The multiple antennae screamed cops. What if she saw the car and left? I’d never get Gray to go along with this again. I had to usher Liam out. And quickly.

  "What are you doing here?" My voice was harsh, and I started to wring my hands. I shifted positions in my chair twice trying to look casual. I didn’t think I was pulling it off. To Liam, I probably looked like I’d just robbed a bank.

  "It’s nice to see you, too, Regan," Liam said. He shifted from relaxed to cop in the blink of an eye. His gaze locked on mine. I tried to look away, but couldn’t. I felt like he was picking the plan right out of my head, but I couldn’t move. I cleared my throat and forced myself to look elsewhere. My eyes landed on Gray who actually looked at ease, even knowing a hooker might walk through the door at any moment.

  "Sorry. That came out wrong. It’s so lovely to see you. How may we be of service?" I asked, sugar dripping from my voice.

  "I’m fine. I'm here with some news. Peter has been taken downtown for questioning for the murder."

  "That's ridiculous!" Jax said. “Peter wouldn’t hurt Anya. He loved her.”

  I was shocked into silence. I didn't know why I thought Liam had shown up at Jax's, but definitely not for that.

  "We need to bail him out. And call Anais," I said.

  "You can't. Peter hasn't been arrested. Yet. I came out of courtesy.
" Even Liam’s soft lilt couldn’t make the news sound better.

  “Why are you here and not there?” I asked.

  “I can’t question him because of my relationship with Jax.”

  "Why is he being questioned as a suspect?" Gray asked.

  "His alibi the night of the murder. He said he left to pick up a friend from the airport, but the friend’s name wasn’t on any flight for that night. Plus, employees of the restaurant swore he and Anya had been fighting recently. There was a big disagreement over the running of the bar service." Liam ran his hands through his hair. He looked tired. I guessed arresting your girlfriend's best friend wore a guy out.

  "Jax, I'm sorry. I didn't want to do it, but the powers that be insisted. If it helps, I do think he is innocent."

  "Why the rush? If Peter turns out to be innocent, which I do believe, this will make two bad arrests in this case. So, why rush?" I asked.

  "He hasn't been arrested, for the tenth time. He is formally being questioned. The mayor has taken an interest in this case, pushing for an arrest," Liam said. “There’s nothing I can do about it, even if it does create shoddy police work.”

  "Who’s the mayor now?" When I lived in Chicago it’d still been under some guy named Smith, I thought. But, I was pretty sure he was in jail. Illinois politicians tended to run that route.

  "Gary Coleman," Liam said.

  "The actor?" I asked. Three faces stared at me, mouths gaping.

  "So, that's a no?" I dragged out the question.

  "That's a no, Regan. It’s just a common name," Jax said. She looked at me sympathetically, patting my head like a child.

  "You need to stop watching TV so much and pay attention to what’s around you," Gray said. I blocked him out once he started talking about TV. I obviously needed to watch more Law & Order.

  "It just seems familiar . . ." I stopped talking. I tried to emulate my mother while sitting at a poker table, showing no emotion—her face frozen like a marble statue. I knew I wasn’t succeeding though. I was probably closer to a cartoon with a light bulb shining brightly above me. The name had seemed familiar for a reason, but not as the short actor from Different Strokes.