God, now I just sound ridiculous.
A guy like Blake Rockford had far more important things to worry about than whether some freshly sprung felon was getting his rocks off or not. Much as Chase hated to admit it, he had been acting like some kind of prima donna since he’d gotten out of prison. Hell, he was damned near as self-absorbed as fucking Shane these days.
“Look, Chase.” Blake sat forward and rested his forearms on the desk, his hands clasped. “I hired you because you needed a job and because I know you’re a good, honest worker. That’s all.”
The fact Blake confirmed his belief in Chase, and even inferred he knew about his wrongful conviction, made him feel like even more of an ass. Before he could say anything though, Blake continued.
“Now, are we done here? Because we both need to get back to work.”
Chase let out his pent-up breath. “Fine. Yeah. I’m sorry about this, I just…” He shook his head and stared at his toes. “Just please don’t send me on any more imaginary jobs trying to set me up with Shelby or anyone else, okay?”
“For the last time, I never tried to ‘set you up’ with anyone romantically, all right? But I do still have contacts at the police department and certain insights into this murder case and let me just say from what I’ve heard it would be beneficial to both you and Shelby if you guys called a truce and compared notes.”
Stunned, he met Blake’s gaze once more. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that when two people work toward a common goal, they have more success.”
“So that side trip to Paws and Play wasn’t about trying to get me a date?”
“Not unless you want one.” Blake wrinkled his nose. “Though, I’d think you have more important things to think about than getting laid right now. You know, like not getting accused of murder.”
“Right.” Chase turned toward the door. “Okay. Thanks.” He made it out into the hall again before Blake stopped him.
“And Chase?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t call me a matchmaker again. That’s a job for little old ladies.”
“Right. Sure thing, boss.” Head down to cover the heat prickling his cheeks, Chase headed back to his desk in the corner. Even from across the room, he could see several new stacks of filing awaiting him. Oh, goodie. Unfortunately, he found his way soon blocked by several other members of the Rockford clan who herded him back toward Blake’s door.
“Not a matchmaker, huh?” Logan Rockford, one of Blake’s younger brothers and the company’s Chief Financial Officer, said. “How about you assigning Dino to be Jan Winters’ bodyguard? That seemed pretty matchmaker-y to me.”
Logan flashed his older brother a devilish grin to which Blake gave him a flinty stare. “Dino was up in the rotation. That was all coincidence.”
Garrett Rockford—yet another of Blake’s younger siblings and the company’s VP of sales—shouldered his way into the doorway beside Chase next. “C’mon. Like you didn’t know they were high school sweethearts. You guys hung out at the house like every single weekend back in the day.”
“And don’t forget Laura and Mike.” This from Olivia Rockford, Blake’s younger sister and Chase’s new direct supervisor. As Rockford Security’s Chief of Operations, she kept the office running smoothly—and the stacks on Chase’s desk growing ever higher. Together, the three Rockford siblings had effectively caged Chase in between them with no hope for escape. “You brought them together too.”
She looked over at Chase and winked, her green eyes sparkling with barely suppressed mirth. He was all for some fun family ribbing, but not when it would irk his boss and potentially get him in trouble. He tried to ease out of their huddle once more, but to no avail.
Blake pushed to his feet and leaned over the desk, his voice terse but his icy blue eyes warm with affection. “For the last time. I am not now, nor have I ever, used this business to help people’s love lives. Now all of you better get back to work before I fire all of your lazy asses.”
“Aw, that’s so cute, bro.” Olivia gave Blake a sweet smile. “Being all tough. But we’re all shareholders. No firing allowed. We can stand here all day and chat if we want and there’s nothing you can do about it.” She glanced sideways at Chase and hiked her thumb in his direction. “Well, except for him.”
“And that’s my cue to leave.” He ducked out of the group again and this time they let him go. Glad for some space to breathe again, Chase headed back to his desk and the overflowing paperwork awaiting him.
Nine
“C’mon, Snickerdoodle.” Shelby clucked her tongue to encourage the large, shaggy dog to follow her. With the enormous plastic cone surrounding his head it made things more difficult, but eventually he bounded up the creaking metal staircase on the side of her slightly shabby brick apartment building. Twilight had finally fallen on what had been one hell of a long day.
“That’s it, boy,” she encouraged, climbing the rest of the way up to her second floor studio, a cat carrier clutched in each hand. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to keep pets here according to her lease, but all three of these animals were special cases. Snickerdoodle’s fur was just starting to regrow after his previous owners had neglected him to the point where a skin rash had made him gnaw off his own skin to stop the itching. The two cats, as yet unnamed, had been brought in earlier that day with upper respiratory infections requiring round the clock observation for at least a couple of days. It wasn’t like she could leave them alone at the shelter. They’d all been through enough already.
She reached the upper landing and set one of the carriers down to fish in her pocket for her keys, flipping on the porch light in the process. A legal-sized yellow packing envelope sat propped against her door. Huh. Thinking she must’ve missed the mailman again, Shelby unlocked her door then tucked the envelope beneath her arm and headed inside with her temporary menagerie.
“Okay, guys.” Propping the door open with her foot to allow the dog in first, Shelby trailed behind with the cat carriers and closed the door behind her with her butt. She set the carriers on the floor and dumped her purse on top of one of them, then bent to open the cages. Both cats scrambled out and headed immediately beneath her overstuffed sofa.
“Perfect.” She hung her head and figured she could coax them out later for their next round of medication, then turned to Snickerdoodle. “What about you, boy? You hungry?”
The dog padded over, tail wagging a thousand miles a second.
“Of course you are.” She ruffled the fur behind his ears and straightened. “Typical guy. Well, let’s get you something to eat.”
The envelope crinkled under her arm and she laid it on the counter while she fixed Snickerdoodle a bowl of soft food. After she’d filled another with water and set it on the floor for him beside the food, she picked up the packing envelope again and scanned the outside. No postmark. Weird. Her pulse sped faster as she realized it couldn’t have come from the mailman.
On edge once more, Shelby toed off her sneakers then headed back into her small living room. She didn’t spend a lot of time here at the apartment, with her busy schedule at the shelter, but when she was home she liked the place to be cozy. She sank into an oversized armchair upholstered in light mint green, same as the sofa, and tucked her feet beneath her. If the envelope wasn’t from the post office, then who had delivered it?
An image of Chase Evans skittered through her mind like a nervous church mouse. He’d shown up once today unannounced, perhaps he’d done it again. Shelby wrinkled her nose. Nah. They’d just met and he knew nothing about her, most especially where she lived. Unwanted tingles danced over her lips as the memory of their kiss stormed her senses. Okay, maybe he knew a little about her now. She certainly knew some stuff about him. Stuff such as how he tasted—like mint and coffee and wicked desire. Or his scent—musk and spice and delectable, clean male. Or even stuff like the strength in his body and the weird security she’d felt while held tight in his arms.
I haven’t felt secure in such a long time.
Shelby shook her head. Chase Evans was nothing but bad news where she was concerned. It was in her best interest never to see him again, even if he might be her best chance of putting Katherine away.
She flipped the envelope over. Nothing on the back either. Shrugging, she tore it open. Best way to find out what was in it was to look inside. She pulled out the papers – a draft of Dad’s will. But not the draft she and Chase had found in her dad’s office a few days earlier, but a different one, a new one. She quickly looked it over and found this one left most of her dad’s estate to Katherine.
Shocked, she lowered the papers and stared at the ceiling. So her step-monster had told the cops the truth the other day? Apparently, her dad had changed his will. Except that didn’t make any sense. He wouldn’t do something so important without telling his only daughter, would he?
The clock above the stove in her tiny open kitchen showed six-thirty p.m. Maybe she could still catch someone at the attorney’s office. Shelby reached over and grabbed her cordless phone from the shabby-chic end table and dialed.
“Butler, Cavanaugh, and Yates. How may I help you?”
“Yes, this is Shelby Bryant. I need to speak with Mr. Cavanaugh about my dad’s will please.”
“One moment.” The receptionist’s voice sounded bland as beige. Several seconds passed before she returned to the line. “Hold, please. I’ll connect you.”
“Rex Cavanaugh,” the attorney said moments later.
“Yes, Mr. Cavanaugh.” Shelby swallowed hard. For some reason, talking to this guy always made her feel like a bashful child. “This is Shelby Bryant, Warren’s daughter. I received a new copy of my dad’s will today. Someone left it on my front porch in an unmarked envelope.” She was rambling, she knew, but couldn’t seem to stop herself. This guy could care less about her mail. “I wondered if I could ask you a couple of questions.”
Tone brusque, the lawyer dashed her hopes for answers. “Ms. Bryant, you know I’m not at liberty to discuss a client’s personal business. I’m sorry.”
He ended the call and Shelby sat a moment staring at the receiver before hanging up. In the few dealings she'd had with Rex Cavanaugh, he'd always been very nice, not at all like he'd just been on the phone. You'd think she would have a right to know her father's legal business now. Unless there was some other reason Rex couldn't discuss it. Maybe the police had him on a gag order or maybe Katherine had gotten to him somehow.
Okay, then. So much for that route. She replaced the phone in its charger then scanned the papers again. Nothing handwritten, all typed, except for her dad’s signature and the attorney’s. Both of those looked legit as well. Why would someone leave this on her doorstep, knowing it would only upset her, though?
Snickerdoodle, apparently done with his meal, returned to her side and lay down near the bottom of Shelby’s chair on the hardwood floor. Having the animals around, even temporarily, at least helped easy her loneliness and anxiety. She rubbed her bare toes across the dog’s back and sighed. Then again, maybe upsetting her was the point of the delivery.
And there was only one person who would get sick pleasure from that.
Katherine.
Shelby refused to believe her dad would change his will and leave everything to that money grubbing viper, especially without telling her. They were close, despite what Katherine told the police. Her dad loved her, even if he didn’t always say it. And he sure as hell didn’t trust Katherine, hence the prenup.
Dammit.
Shelby shoved the documents back in the envelope then leaned her head back against the chair. Katherine must’ve made the whole thing up to frame her. Eyes closed, she went over the earlier interview with the detectives once more in her mind. If Dad had changed his will, as Katherine wanted the police to believe, then that would create motive for Shelby to kill him. What if Katherine had made the will up and sent it on purpose, so the police would find it in her possession? It wouldn't matter if it wasn't officially filed with the lawyer, Katherine could just claim it was her dad's draft, that he intended to file it. She'd even mentioned he had an appointment with the lawyer. And if the police found her with this, it would prove she knew her father was going to change his will—even if it wasn't true.
Plus, murder and the subsequent incarceration would most likely fall under the “Otherwise unable to inherit” clause her father had put in his real will. If Shelby was charged and sentenced to prison, she was pretty certain she’d lose whatever stake she had left in her dad’s estate. And that meant that Katherine would get it all.
Shelby hadn't realized how devious Katherine was. This fake will gave Katherine motive to kill Warren, too. But, she'd set the plans in motion brilliantly. Claiming that she knew Warren was changing the will and then killing him—or having him killed—before he had a chance to make it official was a stroke of genius. If the police bought her story, then they would think that Katherine would be the last person to want Warren Bryant dead before he could change the will to name her as beneficiary.
Katherine must have been planning this for a while. Which made Shelby wonder what else her evil step-mother had been planning.
You don’t really think I did it, do you? Katherine set me up…
Chase’s words from earlier returned to her mind. Given everything that had happened since her dad’s death, she was becoming more and more certain that Chase Evans was telling the truth. She inhaled deep and opened her eyes to find Snickerdoodle now resting his head on her knee, his soft brown gaze staring back at her accompanied by a goofy doggy grin. Hell, maybe Katherine was trying to set up Chase too. Perhaps hedge her bets to throw the cops off.
“What do you think, boy?” She leaned forward and stroked her fingers through the dog’s soft brown fur then kissed him on the snout. “Maybe Chase was telling us the truth all along, huh?”
As if in response, Snickerdoodle gave a low, short bark.
So, what do you say? Want to team up?
She stood and walked over to grab her purse off the top of the cat carrier then dig inside for the estimate Chase had dropped off earlier at the shelter. With her current circumstances, perhaps having some extra security around the place wasn’t such a bad idea. That way, if anyone tried one of these anonymous drop-offs there, she’d catch them red-handed.
Near the bottom of the front page, his scribbled words shined boldly back at her: If interested, call Chase Evans. His cell number was below in blocky numbers.
Karma. That’s what is was. The universe giving her the chance to apologize. Besides, both the kitten and Henry the iguana had taken to Chase right away today at the shelter. If that wasn’t a sign he was a good person deep down, she didn’t know what was. Animals were never wrong.
Smiling, she pulled out her cell phone and returned to her seat, tucking her toes beneath Snickerdoodle’s warm tummy while he snored loudly. Yep, what went around came around, in her experience. And if she apologized to Chase for all her false accusations then maybe, just maybe, he’d still let her take him up on his offer to team up to find her dad’s real killer.
* * *
Two hours later, Chase stood in front of a plain white door of a somewhat rundown apartment complex not far from where he and his brother had lived before Chase’s conviction in North Las Vegas. The area wasn’t super bad and the cost of living was affordable, though he had to admit a bit of shock when he’d learned this was where Shelby Bryant lived. Even more shocking was her inviting him over to discuss a possible partnership.
Taking a deep breath and swallowing around the lump of tension in his throat, he knocked twice. A dog barked loud inside the apartment and Chase took a step back. Made sense for a single gal to have protection around here and the last thing he needed these days was to get mauled. Plus, given what she did for a living, he should’ve expected at least a few critters sharing her living quarters.
The door cracked open and Shelby peeked out. “Hey.”
�
�Hey.” He rocked back on his heels, unsure what else to say. Not that he had to worry. Before he could utter another word, a huge, fluffy ball of fur charged out the door and tackled him back against the railing of the second-floor landing. Dog breath and slobber covered his face as the mutt’s large plastic cone blocked out Chase’s world.
“Sorry about that,” she said, grabbing the dog by his collar and pulling him back inside the apartment. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He ran a hand over his face and chuckled. “Friendly pooch, huh?”
“Not usually, no.” Shelby stepped aside to allow Chase in, then closed the door behind him. “Snickerdoodle doesn’t usually like strangers. Especially men. He was neglected and his past is kind of sketchy.”
Chase crouched to pet the dog properly. “Guess we have something in common then don’t we, boy?”
Shelby gave him an odd look then stepped into a small, galley-style kitchen that was open on one side to the living room. The place was neat and cozy, if tiny as hell.
“Must be hard keeping a big dog like this in such a small apartment.” Chase laughed as Snickerdoodle pressed his plastic cone against Chase’s chest and snuffled. “How long does he have to wear this thing?”
“He’s fine. I take him for lots of walks down at Bell Park. And hopefully, he’ll only need the cone of shame for a few more days. His fur’s coming back in pretty nicely now.” She opened the fridge then looked at him over her shoulder. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No. Thanks.” Chase ran his hands down the dog’s somewhat gaunt sides and noticed the bare patches of skin on his haunches. “Bell Park. That brings back memories. Used to play there when I was a kid, then hung out there as a teenager.”
“You used to live around here?”
“Yeah.” Chase stood and wiped his hands on the thighs of his jeans. “So, you want to team up, huh?”
Treacherous Seduction (The Rockford Security Series Book 3) Page 7