by Cat Schield
After making a couple quick stops, Ryan stood on Paul’s front porch armed with cold beer and a loaded pizza from D’Allesandro’s. Paul was barefoot and freshly showered when he answered the door, but despite his well-groomed appearance, he had dark circles beneath his forest-green eyes.
“Geez,” Ryan commented, shocked at his friend’s paleness. “Have you been getting any sleep?”
“I worked all night,” Paul muttered as he took the pizza and led the way into his kitchen.
“You do know it’s five in the afternoon.”
Paul set the box down and raked his fingers through his thick sandy-blond hair. He glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Is it?”
“I don’t even want to ask if you’re eating.” Ryan pushed aside his own issues for the moment so he could focus on his friend. He popped the top on one of the beers and handed it over. “How’s Grady doing?”
Grady Watts was Paul’s grandfather and one of his biggest influences in life. A man who worked hard and played harder, Grady had been in failing health over the last several years. And things had really gone downhill after he’d suffered a stroke a month ago that affected his speech and paralyzed his right side.
“It’s not looking good,” Paul replied, his manner grim. He braced his hand on the counter, took a long swig from the bottle and stared off into space. “He just doesn’t have the will to get better and I don’t know how to reach him.”
“Have you talked with your dad and brother about it?”
“What do you think?”
Ryan kept his opinion to himself. He loved his friend, but Paul had a black-and-white view of things that made compromise impossible. And although he’d never admit it, the way his family had refused to support his decision to join the police force had badly hurt him.
“That really sucks,” Ryan said. Maybe it was being a twin or the fact that his parents were so supportive of everything he’d done, but Ryan couldn’t imagine being estranged from any of his immediate family. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
A ghost of a smile crossed Paul’s lips. “You’re here with pizza and beer.”
Ryan winced. “Well, it’s not exactly an altruistic visit.” He pulled out the copy of Zoe’s information form and slid it along the marble-topped kitchen island toward his friend. “I have someone I need you to check out.”
“Who is she?”
“Someone who recently joined Susannah’s campaign and Gil is suspicious of her. He thinks she might be a spy for Lyle Abernathy.”
“Why would that matter?”
“Have you come up for air at all in the last few days?” Ryan asked, his tone split between amusement and frustration. “Abernathy has switched districts and entered the state senate race against Susannah.”
“I guess I heard something about it but didn’t put two and two together.” Paul grabbed a slice of pizza and took a bite while perusing the sheet of paper with Zoe’s information. “So what do you think is going on with Zoe Alston?”
“I’m reserving judgment.”
For a long moment Paul studied his friend. “Are you attracted to her?”
“Yes.”
“So is this really about your sister’s campaign or are you having me investigate her because of what happened with Kelly Briggs?”
“Maybe a little of both,” Ryan admitted, hating that he no longer trusted his gut when it came to women he was drawn to. “Look, there’s nothing wrong with erring on the side of caution. And I’m not the one who raised the alarm.”
While that was true, it was also the case that he wasn’t rushing to defend Zoe as innocent. Gil’s paranoia had aroused Ryan’s suspicions and they weren’t going away without concrete proof that she wasn’t a threat to Susannah.
“I’ll check into her,” Paul said. “Just promise me you’ll back off if I turn up anything.”
Ryan recalled the hit to his libido dealt by Zoe’s delectable scent, lean curves and full lips. Something about her put his senses on full alert and he doubted he’d be able to walk away without getting her into bed first.
“I’ll think about it,” he said, knowing he would do no such thing.
Three
Zoe was fretting about the dinner date she’d made with Ryan Dailey the previous day as she walked through the front door of Second Chance Treasures. She’d opened the boutique featuring arts and crafts items made by women who’d been victims of domestic violence a year ago. The concept for the project had been inspired by the helplessness Zoe had felt while married to Tristan. Usually, the store imbued her with an uplifting sense of pride and accomplishment, but more and more lately she’d been weighed down by looming dread as her bank balance dwindled.
From fledgling idea to breaking even, the project had been Zoe’s passion for three years. In that time she’d been able to help nearly a hundred women who struggled financially after fleeing their troubled marriages. With each month that passed, both her inventory and her customer base grew. Unfortunately, in getting to this point, she’d put everything she had into the store only to find it wasn’t enough.
She was behind on her rent and on the verge of failing everyone who so desperately needed her to pull off a win. The ever-increasing financial pressure was part of what had goaded her into entering the revenge plot with Everly and London. The possibility that London might find a clue that would point Zoe in the direction of the money Tristan had hidden offshore combined with longing to see her ex-husband suffer for the pain he’d put her through was what had drawn Zoe into Everly’s scheme.
“Hey, Jessica,” she called to her part-time helper standing behind the counter. “How’d we do today?”
“Something horrible happened,” the twenty-five-year-old mother of two wailed, heartbreak in her voice. “And it’s all my fault.”
Zoe rushed to her, tamping down panic. The last thing she needed to do was to overreact. “I’m sure it’s not your fault,” she said, coming close enough to see that Jessica’s blue eyes were rimmed in red. She’d obviously been crying. “What happened? Are you okay? No one hurt you, did they?”
“No.” Jessica shook her head vehemently. “Nothing like that. All the cash that was supposed to go to the bank today is gone.”
Zoe bit back a moan as she absorbed the financial hit and wrapped her arms around the distraught woman. “It’s okay. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
“I wanted to catch Ashley’s program at school so Maggie came in just before lunch to watch the store for me,” Jessica began, her breath shuddering as tears began to fall.
Although Maggie had limited artistic or crafts experience, she’d helped out at the store whenever possible. Zoe had always found her reliable and trustworthy. “You think she took the money?”
Jessica’s shoulders rose and fell. She looked miserable. “When I came back she bolted out of here and I thought it was really strange. It didn’t occur to me until an hour later that I hadn’t locked the cash into the bank deposit bag before I left. When I went into the back to check on it, the money was gone.”
“It’s okay,” Zoe repeated even though that was the furthest thing from the truth.
Dozens of women were counting on her to pay them for the inventory they’d put their hearts and souls into and she’d promised the landlord she’d catch up on several months’ worth of past-due lease payments. Zoe guessed there had been nearly five thousand dollars in cash ready to be deposited. This was all her fault. She’d been distracted by her work with Susannah’s campaign and had neglected to get to the bank for nearly a week.
“How was Maggie acting when she came in today?”
“I don’t know.” Jessica scrunched up her face as she thought. “Maybe a little distracted. She’s been that way a lot lately. I think something might be going on with her ex.”
“Has she talked to you about him?”
&nb
sp; Even as she asked the question, Zoe knew the likely answer was no. Domestic violence was a silent epidemic with many victims either too afraid or too ashamed to speak out against their abuser.
“No,” Jessica said, confirming what Zoe had assumed to be the case. “You know how Maggie is.”
Magnolia Fenton had three children and an ex-husband with a hair-trigger temper. While he’d never been physically abusive, his systematic belittling and shaming of Maggie, and the way he’d cut her off from family and friends, had taken its toll.
Add to that her lack of marketable skills that kept her from getting a job and saving money and Maggie had felt completely trapped. Her situation resonated with Zoe because of her own experiences and she’d tried sharing her story in an attempt to connect with Maggie. Over the last few months Zoe had believed she was making progress. And now this.
“I’m sure Maggie had a good reason for taking the money,” Zoe said, hoping that was true. “She isn’t a thief.” Something dire would have to be happening for her to do something so drastic.
“Are you going to call the police?” Jessica wrung her hands. She already blamed herself for what had happened and if Zoe reached out to the authorities, no doubt the other woman would never forgive herself.
“No.” That was the last thing Maggie needed. “I’ll give her a call and hopefully we can figure out what’s going on.”
Zoe wasn’t surprised when her attempt to reach Maggie ended in the phone being out of service. From their conversations, Zoe had learned that Maggie’s ex had stalked her after she’d left and even gone so far as to damage her car. The way he’d isolated Maggie had triggered powerful emotions in Zoe and she recognized she’d retreated from Maggie when she should’ve stepped up and become her champion.
At three o’clock Jessica headed off to meet her children’s school bus, leaving Zoe by herself. Fortunately a steady stream of customers entering the store kept Zoe from dwelling on her problems. But as five rolled around and she locked the front door, anxiety-raising thoughts swarmed her tired brain.
The business card Ryan had given her was on her desk in the back room. Given what was going on with her store, Zoe could’ve justified canceling that night’s dinner with Ryan. But the man was a whole lot of distracting and, whether she liked it or not, the way he made her feel was exciting.
Zoe ruthlessly pushed aside her reaction to the man’s charm and reminded herself that her real purpose in going out with him was to glean as much information as she could about his sister and her campaign. Bypassing an elegant sheath in her favorite shade of blue, Zoe chose a black-and-white-striped T-shirt dress, white sneakers and an oversize black cardigan. The outfit was similar to something she would’ve worn in her college days. Comfortable and down to earth, without a designer label in sight. Not exactly guaranteed to stop a man in his tracks.
Making herself forgettable was important if she was to get the goods on Susannah’s campaign without calling attention to herself. If Ryan continued to pursue her, Zoe would be a topic of conversation among the staff. Yesterday, after Ryan had gone in to talk to his sister, Tonya had made it pretty clear that Zoe should maintain her distance from the candidate’s twin brother. Tonya’s reasoning had been a little muddy, but her irritation had come through crystal clear.
Zoe had made a point of declaring she wasn’t interested in Ryan, but Tonya had obviously not believed her. The subtext being that no woman in her right mind could resist him. That question was front and center in Zoe’s thoughts as she parked her car and spied Ryan waiting for her near the front door.
As she walked toward him, she gave herself several seconds to admire his lean, muscular form clad in worn jeans and a long-sleeved, black knit shirt with the cuffs pushed up to reveal his strong forearms. He appeared completely at ease in the modest surroundings.
Bertha’s Kitchen was housed in a two-story building painted robin’s-egg blue and trimmed in purple. Founded in 1979, the restaurant was a primer in Lowcountry soul food and one of Zoe’s favorite places to stop whenever she made a trip to North Charleston to volunteer at the animal shelter.
“Hi,” she said as she stepped within earshot. “Sorry I’m late. The traffic was worse than I expected.”
“Not to worry,” he said with a smoky half smile. “You are worth waiting for.”
At a loss for a clever response, Zoe regarded him in silence. She was accustomed to a certain amount of flattery. Tristan’s friends had often commented on her beauty, but those remarks had always seemed to be for her husband’s benefit, speaking to Tristan’s potency that other men found his wife desirable.
Yet here she stood in her ordinary clothes and Ryan behaved as if she was the most well-dressed woman on the planet. Electricity sparked along her nerve endings, making her hyperaware that his skin radiated the wholesome scent of soap and his shampoo made her think of sunshine.
“Are you hungry?” she asked, grasping at the first safe subject that popped into her mind in an effort to keep the conversation rolling. “The food here is fantastic. Although probably not the sort of fare you’re used to.”
“On the contrary, I come here fairly often.” He gestured for her to precede him into the restaurant. “More so now that Susannah’s campaign headquarters is nearby.”
Her lame attempt to point out their social differences and demonstrate that she wasn’t the sort of highbrow date he was used to had failed miserably. Zoe reassessed her impression of Ryan as he grinned and flirted with the women dishing out plates of fried pork chops, fried chicken, stewed greens, dark roux okra soup and moist cornbread. It was pretty obvious he hadn’t been exaggerating about being a regular because he knew several of the servers and kitchen staff by name and they all knew him.
By the time they carried their trays of food and sweet tea to a table, Zoe was feeling utterly defeated.
“Tell me about yourself,” Ryan said, skipping small talk and jumping straight in. “I want to know everything.”
She’d expected that he’d be like most successful men of her acquaintance and only interested in talking about himself. While she’d prepared a dull story that would ensure he’d lose interest quickly, something about his direct gaze warned her she’d better watch what she said.
“I’m pretty ordinary,” she began, selling her claim with a lackluster tone and cultivated casualness. The struggle to maintain her blasé façade while her pulse hammered away highlighted Ryan’s powerful effect on her. “You’re the one who’s interesting. You run a successful engineering firm with projects all over the world.”
Unfortunately, Ryan wasn’t distracted by her attempt to deflect the attention away from herself. “Where did you grow up?”
“Greenville.”
If Ryan was determined to mine her background, Zoe intended to keep her answers short and vague.
“What brought you to Charleston?”
“I came here after college.”
She left out the part about being a brand-new bride bubbling with optimism about her new life with her handsome, wealthy husband. In the early days of her marriage she’d thought her life was going to be perfect.
“Where did you go to school?”
“University of South Carolina.”
“Major?”
“I never graduated.”
He cocked his head at her defensive tone. “You say that like you expect me to judge you.”
“You’re a brilliant engineer and a successful businessman,” she said. “Your sister is a lawyer who’s running for state senate.” I’m not in your league.
“And because you didn’t graduate college that somehow makes you less worthy?” He paused a beat before adding, “Or are you just passing judgment on me by assuming I think I’m better than everyone else? Is that why you wanted to come here? To point out that you’re one of the people while I’m an entitled jerk?”
“N
o.” But wasn’t that exactly why she’d chosen Bertha’s Kitchen?
“Then why make such a big deal about me being successful?” He asked like he was curious about her motivation. As if he was interested in getting to know her. Like he intended to uncover all her secrets. Her breath hitched at the danger this presented.
“I guess I’ve become accustomed to being judged for my choices.”
“Are you happy with the decisions you made?”
“Is anyone?” The items in her poor judgment column definitely outweighed the accomplishments she was proud of.
“What would you go back and change if you could?”
Over the last few years Zoe had given the matter a great deal of thought. Her marriage to Tristan hadn’t been all bad. He could be kind and funny and generous. At least, early on that had been the case. She’d been a naïve twenty when they’d gotten married and easy for him to control. She’d wanted to please Tristan and most of the time she had.
“That’s a tough question to answer. The decisions I made helped me to become who I am today. I like that person. Other choices might have resulted in me becoming someone else.”
“Do you wish you’d graduated?”
“Of course I wish I’d graduated.” Yet was that completely true? She’d disliked the major she’d chosen and had struggled through her classes. When Tristan had insisted he couldn’t wait to make her his wife, she’d happily forgone her senior year. It wasn’t until she’d moved to Charleston that she’d realized her mistake.
The social circle Tristan moved in had been filled with beautiful former debutantes—with college degrees—who’d loved to talk about their alma maters. Zoe had always felt a little foolish for not completing her education.
“What did you major in?”
“Hospitality management.” She made a face. “I went to college because everyone expected me to.” At eighteen she’d been unable to visualize her future without that step. Unable or unwilling? Her family had expected her to go. Had she even considered what would be best for her? “I really didn’t have a sense of what I wanted to do.”