by Ivy Layne
I didn't.
I'd never really had him in the first place. He'd been using me. Lying to me. Whatever he had going on with Cynthia, it was none of my business.
I thought about my mortgage payments. The new car I was saving for. Cynthia was generous. She expected a lot, and she paid for excellence. Walking out would be unprofessional. If I was anything, I was damn good at my job. I wasn't going to abandon her because my jerk-of-a-not-really ex-boyfriend had shown up.
Taking a breath to steady myself, I said, still in that low, barely-audible tone, "She's great. Really great. She's a little flamboyant, and stubborn, but she's a good person. My favorite client," I said, almost completely meaning it.
I did mean it. I wasn't going to let Evers Sinclair screw up a great working relationship.
Across from us, Evers straightened, leaning a little away from Cynthia and turning his attention to Griffen and myself. "There's not much to review," he began. "We'll have security teams on the property twenty-four seven. A team of two in the house. A second team of two patrolling the grounds and the perimeter. The property is walled, which makes our job easier.
"We upgraded the motion sensor cameras last week. We have a control room set up on the lower level. Someone will be manning the monitors around-the-clock. No one will get on this property without us knowing about it." Looking directly at Cynthia, he said, "I'd prefer you keep the alarm on while you're in the house."
Cynthia shook her head. "I'm not doing that. The gardens are beautiful, and I love to be outside."
"At least the pool is indoors," Evers said under his breath. "You don't leave the house without a guard. Understood?"
"Understood," Cynthia said with a wry smile. "I don't want to feel like I'm in prison, Evers, but I'm not a fool."
Throwing that statement into question, she reached into her pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper.
"I do have a challenge for all of you," she said, smiling sweetly up at Evers and then sympathetically at me. "Now, don't kill me, but I decided we have to have a party. A kind of welcome home get-together. Nothing elaborate."
She met my eyes and gave an apologetic shrug of one shoulder. "Summer, honey, I know this is throwing a lot at you, but if anyone can make it happen, it's Summer Winters."
"No parties," Evers said with finality. I choked back a laugh.
He glared at me. "Problem, Winters?"
"No, no problem," I said.
There was a problem, but it wasn't me.
Chapter Six
Summer
"I'm having a party, Evers," Cynthia stated in a tone I knew well. "You're in charge of security. You figure it out. This is the guest list," she said, handing it to Evers. He skimmed it carefully as she went on, "Next Friday. You should be able to work that out. The guest list is small. No more than seventy-five."
I gave Cynthia my most professional I can handle anything you throw at me smile. A party for seventy-five in a week? No problem.
Who was I kidding? Major problem. I knew Cynthia. This would not be pizza and beer. My mind raced, searching through myriad mental lists. Caterers. Equipment rentals. Flowers.
Cynthia was impossible. How could she do this to me?
I didn't need to ask. Cynthia wanted it, and it happened. That was the way it worked. How it happened was on me.
Evers silently reached across the table, handing me the guest list. He said nothing, but something in the set of his shoulders, the way he wouldn't meet my eyes, put me on alert.
Before I could move, Griffen leaned forward and plucked the list from his hand. He skimmed it before silently handing it to me.
I started at the top, reading quickly, familiar with many of the names. Cynthia was Rupert Stevens' granddaughter, so I expected to see Rupert, his wife Sloane, Cynthia's parents, her sister and brother, all of whom still lived in Atlanta. I read further, recognizing many of the highest echelon of Atlanta society, as well as a few artists and local performers.
I was halfway through the list when my eyes snagged on a name and my heart stopped in my chest. Vance and Magnolia Winters. Below them Aiden Winters, and below him his brother Jacob Winters. I didn't have to keep reading. The entire Winters clan was on the guest list.
This was a problem. A huge problem. A problem so big it turned throwing together a party in a week into child's play. My hand shook as I set the list on the coffee table and said, with only a slight tremble in my voice, "This doesn't seem like a good idea, Cynthia. I know you want a party, but with everything that's going on, with Clint—"
"I want the party, Summer. I did not come here to hide. I haven't been back in ages, and I want to see everyone. Would you rather I go to the country club?"
"Of course not," Evers cut in. He glanced at the guest list, then to me, and finally back to Cynthia. "And we don't want you to feel trapped here. But a party is irresponsible. At least give us more time to plan—"
"No. I don't have more time. I'm only going to be here for two months, and if I wait a few more weeks for the party I'll barely have time to see everyone after we're re-introduced. No. It has to be next Friday."
She stood, brushing the wrinkles from her skirt, and tossed her platinum locks over her shoulder, sending us another dazzling smile. "You're all the best at what you do. Go out there and do it."
To Evers, she said, "Figure out how to keep the house secure during the party." And to me, "You've worked miracles before, Summer. I know you can do it again. I have complete faith in all of you."
I shook my head as she turned and glided from the room, the sweet scent of her perfume lingering after she was gone. I shook my head in disbelief.
"How does she do that?" I asked myself aloud. "Just when I'm about to strangle her, she says she has absolute faith in me, and I'm ready to hit the phone and make this ridiculous plan happen. If I didn't like her so much I'd strangle her."
Beside me, Griffen chuckled. "Can you do it? Throw together a party in a week?"
"I can," I admitted. "It's going to be a long few days, but I can." I looked down at the list of names on the table between us and then to Evers, waiting for him to say something. He remained silent, his eyes on the door Cynthia had walked through moments before.
I'd figure out what to do about the guest list later. I had more important things to deal with. I would have preferred to have this conversation in private, but asking Griffen to leave would give Evers too much importance.
He didn't know how badly he'd hurt me. If I had my way, he never would.
Leaning forward, I met Evers' blue eyes with a hard look. "Why are you here?" I demanded. "And don't tell me it's all about Cynthia's security. Obviously, you're old friends, but I know you don't handle protection details personally anymore. So why are you here?"
Evers sat back and crossed his arms over his chest casually, propping one ankle on his knee. He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes unreadable, before he said, "When was the last time you talked to your father?"
I sucked in a short breath. I hadn't expected him to say that. I'd expected him to dodge the question. To lie. Again. I tried to shift gears, to remember the last time I'd talked to my dad. "A few weeks ago?"
"Did you see him or talk to him by phone a few weeks ago?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.
"I talked to him on the telephone. I called to check in, say hi. We didn't talk long. He said he was in the middle of something. Why? What's going on?"
"Your father—"
Griffen pulled his arm from behind me on the couch and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. "Ev, she doesn't need—"
"Shut. Up." Evers flashed a quelling look at Griffen, who ignored him.
"There's some stuff going on with your dad," Griffen said, giving me a sympathetic look. "You don't have to worry about it. We have it under control."
Evers glared at Griffen. "I told you to let me handle this."
"You're doing a piss-poor job so far," Griffen shot back.
"If something's wrong wi
th my dad, I want to know," I said, "What the hell is going on, Evers? Why are you here? Why now?"
Evers dropped his foot off his knee, his arms falling to his sides, dropping the illusion that this was casual. He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees, mimicking Griffen's posture.
Eyes level on mine, he said, "Do you want the truth? I can tell you right now you're not going to like it. Griffen is trying to spare you. I was trying to spare you. I know now that was a mistake. You're pissed about that, and I get it. But be sure you want to know."
"I want to know," I said immediately.
Evers shook his head. "You have to be sure. And if I tell you, you have to keep your mouth shut. Your father is part of a bigger situation, and if I trust you with this information, you have to promise me you'll keep it to yourself."
"Evers," Griffen warned, shaking his head. "This is too much. She doesn't need to know." He turned to look at me, sympathy in his eyes. "Summer, I know he's your dad, and I know Evers here fucked everything up with you before. But this deal, it's an ugly mess. If you're smart, you'll let us do our jobs and keep everyone safe, and if you hear from your dad, you’ll tell us right away. You don't need to get involved."
I looked from Griffen to Evers. I saw it in Evers’ eyes. He didn't want to tell me whatever it was he knew about my father. But he would. Maybe this was his way of apologizing for what had happened. His way of trying to make it right.
Not that it mattered. We couldn't change the past.
This was my dad we were talking about. He wouldn't win father of the year, but he was mine, and I loved him. After I'd kicked Evers out, I'd probed gently, but Smokey stonewalled every time. I knew there was something wrong. He'd been different. Tense. Sometimes he went days without returning my calls. If Evers knew why, I needed him to fill me in.
"Tell me," I said simply.
Evers let out a long breath.
"We don't know the whole story yet, but my father was involved in some… shady dealings. He was working with an old family friend who recently died."
"I thought your father was dead."
With a wry, almost bitter laugh, Evers said, "So did we. It looks like that might not be the case. We've been tracing every piece of information we have, trying to find out what he was up to and where he is. We got a hold of bank records that show significant amounts of money moving from my father to his partner, and from there to Clive Winters."
I laughed. Smokey Winters involved in shady dealings? Unless those shady dealings had to do with packing a bowl or buying a bag of weed, Smokey wouldn't be interested.
I shook my head. "You must have made a mistake. I know my dad's kind of a wing-nut, but he doesn't have it in him to—"
"It's not a mistake."
"But some numbers, some bank transfers, they don't prove anything," I protested, still shaking my head.
Evers took another deep breath, looking at the coffered ceiling above for a moment before he said, "Summer, I've been watching you and your father for a while. You know that."
I gritted my teeth but said nothing. There was nothing to say.
"Your father gets around. A lot more than you think he does. We knew something was going on, even a few months ago. We didn't know what, and we had no clue it was related to my father. Now, it looks like everything's connected."
"If you didn't think it was connected, if you didn't know what he was up to, why were you watching him?" I snapped my mouth shut the second the words spilled out. I already knew the answer. I'd figured it out not long after I broke things off with Evers.
Evers said gently, "You know why."
"So, what, you needed to keep an eye on me and you figured you'd do it from my bed? What did you think I was going to do? Knock on their gates with my hand out?"
"We had to be sure. They're like family."
I didn't say anything. There was nothing to say.
It all started with the Winters family. Our last names weren't coincidence. We were related, though I wasn't exactly sure how. It didn't matter. We'd never met, and if I had anything to say about it, we never would.
The guest list lying on the coffee table would be a problem. I was usually visible at the parties I managed, but for this one, I'd stay as incognito as I could.
I'd made a promise, and I planned to keep it.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"I want you to help me find your father. And I want you to think carefully. Has anything happened lately that's unusual? Strange phone calls, things out of place in your condo? Anything."
Gears turning in my brain, I stared at Evers and asked in a whisper, "You think I'm involved?"
"No, but—"
"Evers, what's going on?"
"That's what we're trying to find out."
Chapter Seven
Evers
I walked down the wide hall of Rycroft Castle re-familiarizing myself with the layout now that it was occupied. The cook was busy in the main kitchen preparing the evening meal.
That afternoon, while we were arguing about the party, the rest of Cynthia's staff had arrived. She was traveling light, only bringing her stylist and trainer. Angie, the stylist, had disappeared into the master suite to deal with Cynthia's wardrobe.
Cynthia herself was in the gym on the lower level with Viggo, her trainer and masseuse. I had a feeling he was more than her trainer and masseuse. None of my business.
Cynthia was going to be a handful. The second she'd curled her fingers around my leg, I knew she hoped to pick up where we'd left off all those years ago. I didn't want to bruise her ego. Cynthia was bossy and demanding, but she'd been a friend.
I had to set her straight. Before Summer, I might have been tempted. Who am I kidding? Before Summer I might have taken her straight to bed.
Since Summer threw me out? Not even the spectacularly-beautiful Cynthia Stevens could hold my eye. There was only one woman I wanted, and she despised me.
I didn't need to walk the house. I knew the layout of Rycroft Castle better than I knew my own place. I'd been through the blueprints multiple times, had inspected every inch of the more than 16,000 square feet.
No, I was pacing the halls so I could end up in this narrow hall behind the kitchen, outside the closed door of the housekeeper's office, now Summer's domain. Her voice bled through the door, drawing me like a magnet.
If Griffen touched her, smiled at her, fucking winked at her one more time…
I ran out of steam at the thought. What was I going to do about it? Beat him up? He was only doing it to get under my skin, and we both knew it. It shouldn't have worked.
I knew he was messing with me, knew he had far too much loyalty to ever make a move on a woman I had feelings for.
I knew I could trust him. And still, if he so much as laid a finger on her again… The brush of his fingertip across her bare shoulder played on a loop in my brain.
Griffen wasn't allowed to touch her. Not when I couldn't.
I was alone in the hallway, no one to see my weakness. Slouching against the door frame, I rested my forehead against the cool, thick wood of the office door, absorbing the clear, light tones of Summer's voice.
"May, you're an angel. I owe you one. I owe you a million. I'll be by tomorrow morning if that's not too soon." A pause, punctuated by light tapping as if she were bouncing a pen against her desk.
She laughed, sounding delighted and a little relieved. "That would be absolutely perfect. I can't thank you enough." Another pause, then, "Well, their bad luck is my good fortune. This is a huge weight off my shoulders. I'll see you tomorrow, no earlier than ten. Thanks again. Yep, you too."
Summer fell silent. I was reaching for the handle before I realized what I was doing. Snatching my fingers back, I moved away from the door, away from Summer, down the hall until I reached the stairs to the lower level.
I had to get my head on the job. Cynthia had a crazy husband out there, and she was famous enough that we had to worry about garden-variety fans and sta
lkers. Axel had given me the rundown from her L.A. detail, some of whom would be rotating in here in Atlanta, so I knew this wasn't a vanity job.
Cynthia needed tight security, and I needed to stay sharp. She'd hired Sinclair Security because we're the best. She'd asked for me because she assumed I'd take a special interest in the job.
She couldn't have known how right she was. The one person I wanted more than any other was living inside the walls of Rycroft Castle. I would do whatever I had to keep Summer safe.
No one was getting in this house. No one was getting on the property. Not while I was around to stop them.
The lower level of Rycroft Castle was as expansive as those above. I took a quick look through the wide double doors to the Roman spa, a decadent indoor pool and hot tub. Crowned by a painted domed ceiling held up by white pillars, the entire space was built entirely of white limestone, including the custom gourmet kitchen and bar. You could throw a hell of a pool party in Rycroft Castle.
I passed the workout room and yoga studio, strains of music and the clang of weights interrupting the silence of the empty hallway.
Then the wine tasting room, six hundred square feet of custom woodwork, high-tech temperature-controlled storage, and every accoutrement a wine lover could ask for.
A little further down the hall was the small interior storage room we'd repurposed into our command center. I gave a single rap on the door to alert Griffen and swung it open.
He sat in front of the L-shaped desk, lounging in his chair, feet up. From the back, he looked half-asleep, entirely relaxed. His eyes gave him away. Sharp, alert, they moved from screen to screen, resting just long enough to absorb every detail before checking the next.
Without looking up, he said, "Everything good?"
"Fine. Cook's making dinner, the two maids are straightening, Cynthia's with Viggo working out, the stylist is unpacking in Cynthia's suite, and Summer is in her office trying to make miracles happen."
At that, Griffen tore his eyes from the screens and looked up, his expression of disappointed scorn almost driving me a step back.