Operation Notorious

by Justine Davis

  He didn’t want to call the police. And there was only one reason she could think of for that. She was shaking now.

  “And if your insurance wants a police report?”

  “Don’t you see?” he asked, sounding oddly eager as he rapidly spoke. “That’s just it. I make a report, and both my car and home insurance is likely to go up.”

  It did make sense. But she couldn’t judge his tone. Did he sound that way because it was true, or because she’d again given him an out, a logical explanation? And how on earth had her life degenerated to where she was questioning her own father? Suspecting him of lying to her face?

  Lying. The very idea made her think of Gavin. What would he think? What would he do? What would those vaunted instincts tell him?

  She tried to think as she imagined he would. She knew he was an expert at reading people. She wasn’t, but she knew—or thought she knew—her father better than anyone. So she set out on an exchange that she was inwardly hoping against hope would prove the awful things she was thinking wrong.

  “You’re missing a mirror.”

  “Yes. Lucky there are a ton of these cars on the road. Shouldn’t be hard to find a replacement.”

  Another effort at covering, pointing out his car was far from unique? God, she hated this.

  She stared at him as she said, “I can tell you where to find the original.”

  She would swear his blink was one of genuine bafflement. “What?”

  “The original mirror. The one that came off when your car sideswiped Gavin de Marco’s.”

  “How—What are you talking about?”

  Her throat tightened. Had he been going to ask her how she knew about what had happened? Of course, that could be interpreted innocently, too. And he hadn’t really said it. So why was she even questioning it? This was her father.

  “The mirror I almost ran over when it was bouncing down the road in front of me.”

  His eyes widened. “Katie, you were in an accident? Why didn’t you—”

  She cut him off, her gaze fixed on his face, searching for anything that would help her believe. “Gavin was in the accident. When your car purposely drove him off the road and into a ditch.”

  “My God. Is he—”

  “If the goal was to kill him, it failed. But he was hurt, and it could have been fatal.” It was killing her, but she kept her gaze fastened on his face, that beloved face that she had loved from her earliest memories. It showed nothing but concern, and relief, that she could see.

  “Thank goodness it wasn’t!” If he was faking it, he was doing a fine job. But then, if he was capable of that, then she didn’t know him at all.

  “Why do you suppose someone would try to kill him?”

  He frowned then. “I’m sure he’s made enemies...but what are the odds someone after him would steal my car?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Why here, why now?” His brow was furrowed. He was rubbing at his chin in the way he always did when thinking hard. “You don’t think it’s connected to him helping us?”

  And again, she would swear his shock was real. As was the “us.”

  “I think it’s connected to him having a reputation for always finding the truth.”

  For an instant, just an instant, something flashed in the eyes she knew so well. And more telling, he looked away. She felt something inside her squirming, twisting, as if trying to get away. She made herself go on.

  “Someone is worried enough to try and kill him. Or at least take him out of action.” She stared at him, hating the way he now wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Someone driving your car.”

  Finally, after more than enough time for him to get himself in hand, he looked back at her. “Katie, surely you’re not saying you think it was me?”

  “I don’t know anymore, Dad. Something’s wrong, and I—”

  She stopped before she said something irrevocable. He was holding her gaze once more, and now she was doubting her doubts.

  “You know I would never do such a thing.”

  That she would have staked her life on.

  And instead you staked your love, although you didn’t know it then.

  “I’m a little rattled,” she said after a moment. Again kept her eyes on his face, trying to read it as she added, “If I hadn’t had to work, I would have been in the car with him.”

  Her father’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “I could have been hurt, or worse, too.”

  He went pale. And when he reached out to hug her, he was the same beloved father who had always been there for her, who had gone through hell with her.

  And yet, for the first time in her entire life, she didn’t quite believe him. Not all the way. She couldn’t quash the feeling that he was hiding something. She thought about the difference between lies and lies of omission. And how Gavin felt about both.

  “I’ll call the police right now,” he promised.

  “You do that. I have to go.”

  “Katie, wait.”

  She ignored him and walked back to her car. She drove home in such a numbed state she was lucky she didn’t have an accident herself. Not that Gavin’s crash had been an accident.

  Once home she huddled in her favorite chair, in the dark, alone.

  She couldn’t doubt her father’s concern had been genuine when he’d heard how close she’d come to being in that car. She wondered vaguely how he’d feel when he put together why she’d had reason to be with Gavin at that hour of the morning. That seemed minor compared to the fact that she was certain, on some deep level, that her father was lying to her. Or at the least keeping something from her.

  Her entire lifetime perception of him had shifted in just those few minutes. Until just now, she would have sworn—in fact had sworn—that would never happen.

  She had sworn to Gavin.

  Who didn’t tolerate liars.

  Who would probably now think her one. Again.

  She shivered, not even the plush throw enough to reach the chill that went bone deep. She was caught between her suspicions of her father and the knowledge that if she told Gavin, he would walk away from the case, which was practically a conviction even if he never really was his legal representative.

  But if she didn’t tell him and he found out, she would certainly lose him. She knew he meant what he said about people who lied to him.

  She shivered again, wondering how her life had turned once more into heart-crushing chaos.

  Chapter 33

  Gavin realized now what he missed about the city. The thousands of people, each with their own set of problems. Each one trying to get through their lives with the minimum of upset and discomfort, sometimes succeeding, sometimes not. Somehow all that shared, communal worry seemed to make your own seem less, because you could turn any direction and find someone in worse straits than you were.

  Out here, he thought as he stared out the patio door across the meadow, you were pretty much alone with your thoughts unless you made an effort. While most of the time he found that soothing after the chaos of the city, right now it was leaving him far too much time to wallow in the mire he found himself in. It had been a hellish night, and the morning, despite being sunny for a change, had brought him no relief. Because the bottom line hadn’t changed.

  He’d fallen like some high school kid with his first crush.

  For a liar.

  He’d been lied to and used in a way he’d sworn would never, ever happen again. Damn, she’d even slept with him—

  He spun on his heel away from the window as his mind recoiled from the memory...the way she’d touched him and let him touch her, the sheer consuming joy of holding her, joining with her, the way it had burned through to his very soul. It had been the most amazing night of his life. If he had to
believe that was all faked, that was all a lie, then he should just drive off the bridge on his way to the airport because he was obviously too stupid to live.

  But if it had been real... No, it couldn’t be, because she’d lied. But maybe she hadn’t lied about that.

  Believing in selective lying now, are we, de Marco?

  He sat down on the couch before the fire; although sunny it was still November, and cold without the cloud cover to hold in what warmth there was. He was lucky he’d found out now, he kept telling himself. It didn’t improve his mood any. He’d warned Quinn when they’d arrived this morning that he was in no state to either talk or be sociable, but Quinn had only raised an eyebrow and said, “Somebody ask you to do either?”

  Neither Quinn nor Hayley had bothered him beyond offering coffee and ibuprofen. He took the pills; the meds they’d given him after the crash had worn off.

  When he’d declined the use of one of their vehicles, Hayley, with her usual brisk efficiency, had taken on the task of dealing with his rental car company. The accident report clearly showed the other driver completely at fault, and that he’d left the scene without stopping put the seal on it. Even on Sunday she now had delivery of a replacement car promised by midday.

  He turned to her as she hung up the phone.

  “Maybe he’d be better off with you,” he suggested, gesturing at Cutter, who was sprawled on the couch beside him, his chin now parked on Gavin’s leg. He’d been watching the dog carefully—the only distraction he’d found from his thoughts—for any sign of injury that was late showing up, but the emergency vet’s assessment appeared accurate and the animal seemed fine.

  “I think we’d have a fight on our hands,” Hayley said as she looked at the dog. “Nope, you’re his chosen task, and interfering with that does no good.”

  “Mmm.” Gavin shook his head at her words, even though he’d caught himself more than once attributing humanlike motives and intelligence to the clever canine.

  Hayley shifted her gaze to Gavin. “You know, Gavin, there could well be an innocent explanation for all this,” she said, obviously reading his mood. “Or Katie genuinely might not have known.”

  “Not likely.”

  “She deserves a chance to explain,” Quinn put in from where he sat nearby.

  Gavin had his mouth open to say he was done with this when Cutter’s head came up and he let out a soft woof. Then another as he got to his feet, jumped down from the couch and headed for the door. As soon as he got there he raised up on his hind legs and batted at the automatic opener. Gavin’s gut knew who was there before the door swung open. Still, it knotted up the instant Katie stepped inside.

  He realized, with a little shock, she looked like he felt. The usually tidy, together woman looked a bit ragged, her hair tousled, her jeans and sweatshirt just thrown on.

  And her eyes were reddened. Seriously reddened. She’d been crying. A lot. And the slight sheen on her cheeks indicated she hadn’t stopped crying on the way here. Even now she wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt, as if it had become habit.

  It was instinctive for him to stand, but he made himself stop. And unlike her usual considerate self, Katie ignored Quinn and Hayley, her eyes focused only on him. In his peripheral vision Gavin saw the Foxworths exchange a look. He wondered if they’d felt the sudden ice in the room.

  “We’ll just let you work it out,” Hayley said then.

  “You’ve got the number if you need reinforcements,” Quinn added, and Gavin noticed he didn’t specify which of them that was aimed at.

  They murmured something he couldn’t hear to Katie as they passed. But their stubborn dog stayed, escorting—hell, herding—Katie toward him. In fact, the dog shouldered and nudged and even pushed until she had little choice but to sit in the spot the dog himself had just vacated. Next to him.

  Gavin stared at her but said nothing. What she said first would determine what he would do. Silence spun out. She picked at a thread on her jeans. Again she wiped at her eyes. He felt uncomfortable ignoring her obvious distress, but he made himself do it. Even if going from the incredible intimacy of the other night—God, had it just been one night ago?—to this was stomach churning. Especially when she wouldn’t look at him.

  “Are you all right?” she asked first.

  “Obviously,” he said, his voice cool.

  She winced. He felt a twinge and wondered at it. When had he started feeling anything but abhorrence for liars?

  “I’m sorry,” she finally said.

  For lying? he wondered. But still he said nothing.

  “I love my father. I never would have agreed to this if I hadn’t been utterly certain of him.”

  Gavin went very still. He hadn’t missed the past tense.

  She lifted her head, finally met his eyes. She drew in a long, deep, audible breath. “I went to see him last night, when you—”

  She stopped. He guessed she’d been about to say something about him dropping off the radar, after the night they’d had. Under normal circumstances, it would have been a piggish thing to do. But these were hardly normal circumstances.

  She took another deep breath. She clasped her hands together, as if she needed the pressure, needed to do it to hold herself together. She lowered her gaze to her fingers, and he saw a shiver go through her. Again his stomach knotted; he wanted nothing more than to reach out for her, pull her into his arms, comfort her. Only a single word stopped him.

  Liar.

  Once more she lifted her head and met his gaze. And this time she held it. When she spoke again, her voice was steadier, businesslike, and the words unrolled rapidly.

  “It was his car that hit you. I saw the damage, the dark paint, the missing mirror. His explanation is that it was stolen while he was working in his shop, and brought back after the damage was done. That someone got into the house and took the keys. That he had earphones on so he didn’t hear anything. That he’d only discovered it right before I got there.”

  Gavin stared at her. He hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t expected that she’d come here to tell him what she’d learned, not when it was evidence against her father.

  For a moment she just looked at him. Then her breath caught audibly. “You already knew.”

  “Thanks to Ty and Brett Dunbar.”

  She figured it out quickly. “The traffic camera on the highway. You got a license number.”

  “A partial. And your father was fifth on the list of matches. I don’t believe in that much coincidence.”

  “Neither do I.”

  His certainty that she’d been lying all along was shaken. Why would she come here like this, tell him about the car if she was? And her reaction when she realized he already knew had been genuine surprise, he was sure of that.

  “You believe his story?” He kept all trace of accusation out of his voice.

  “I want to. He’s never lied to me before.”

  Want to wasn’t the same as yes. “But now?”

  She steadied herself again, and Gavin saw in the tenseness of her posture, the tightness around her eyes, the way she clenched her hands, just how much this was costing her. And yet she was doing it. Admiration spiked through him.

  “Now I’m not sure. I still can’t believe he would hurt Laurel. And he seemed totally honest about the car. And why would he want to hurt the person trying to help him? But the car being stolen out from under his nose, and just happening to hit you? That’s so...implausible. He’s keeping something from me. I can feel it.”

  He couldn’t put a single name to how she sounded. Bewildered. Hurt. Confused. Yet she also sounded determined, and maybe the tiniest bit angry. He analyzed his options for a moment before he quietly repeated her own question.

  “Why would he want to hurt the person trying to help him?”

  “There
’s only one reason I can think of,” she said, her voice going dark, wounded. “He doesn’t want the truth found.”

  She was no coward, Katie Moore. When it was staring her in the face, she didn’t run away, no matter the pain it had to be causing her. Admiration wasn’t a strong enough word for what he felt for her.

  But the other words that fit scared him.

  “And what do you want, Katie?” he asked softly.

  She steadied herself once more, and her voice was level when she answered, “I want what I said I wanted in the beginning. I want the truth.”

  “Do you?”

  She frowned. “Why else would I have wanted you to get involved in the first place?”

  There was that. He leaned back on the couch, keeping his gaze fastened on her. She met his eyes unflinchingly. So unflinchingly he found himself rethinking his assumptions. All of them.

  This time it was he who found he couldn’t look at her. He shifted his gaze, realized Cutter was sitting at her feet and staring up at him intently. The dog held his gaze with the intensity Gavin imagined his breed used on the animals it herded. And then he put his chin on Katie’s knee. What was Cutter trying to indicate? Trust? Belief? Faith? All three?

  Gavin gave a shake of his head, as much at falling into the pattern of Foxworth crediting the animal with such uncanny abilities as anything.

  Were she anyone else, he’d be certain he’d been played and she’d been lying all along. Yet a dog’s simple gesture made him want to believe.

  “So that’s it,” Katie said, startling him. His gaze shot back to her face. She was watching him and frowning. “You think he did it. All of it, Laurel, too. And you think I knew all along.”

  She’d obviously thought his shake of the head was aimed at her, not the dog. He found himself considering denying her words. Once more thinking about lying. When had he become such a hypocrite? He steeled himself; he couldn’t be less strong than she was being right now.

  I don’t lie.

  His own words to her rang in his head. He had no idea how she would react, and a lie would be kinder, especially after—He stopped himself before a heated string of erotic images could derail him entirely.