Page 101 of Every Step She Takes
He shrugs. “We were never close. I went to school in the US to get away from them. When I gave up law, they severed ties in hopes it’d scare me into changing my mind. Instead, I opened my trust fund, paid them back for my tuition, and stayed in America as an investigator. Fast-forward three years. We were representing this guy in court – a real son-of-a-bitch – and I met his wife. She came to me later, asking for help gathering incriminating evidence against her husband for a divorce suit.”
“Ah.”
“It wasn’t anything to do with his less-than-legal activities. That would have been a violation of my employment contract. Still… let’s just say I didn’t tell my boss. What she wanted was evidence of infidelity. Typical PI work, and not my thing but…”
His cheeks heat, and he rubs a hand over his face. “I know this reflects badly on me, so I’m just going to get it out in the open. She was very pretty and very fragile, and my chivalric streak exploded.”
“You had a fling with her.”
“I almost wish I could say yes, because the truth seems even more embarrassing.”
“That you helped her without getting any?” I waggle my brows.
“Oh, it was on offer from the start, but I was being a gentleman. I’d see her through the divorce and then hope for more than a weekend fling. I didn’t want to take advantage of her fragility, especially considering she was in an abusive marriage.”
“Ouch.”
“The more she shared, the more I wanted to kill the guy. Then sheaskedme to kill him. Came to me in tears with fresh bruises, begging me to get rid of him so we could be together. That’s when the alarm bells clanged.”
“There was no abuse.”
“Exactly. While I felt like a bastard for doubting her, I had to investigate. Turned out her husband was an asshole, but he wasn’t abusing her. She just wanted his money, and I was the chump who’d help her get it. As I was deciding how to handle the situation, her husband wound up dead in an alley.”
“Damn.”
“Oh, yeah. When the cops showed up on my doorstep, I bolted back to Italy. I was in hiding for six months before they caught the actual killer. I lost my PI license for fleeing the country, and my old firm isn’t ever giving me a job reference.”
“And that experience totally cured you of your white-knight fantasies. Oh, wait…”
He loops his arms around my neck. “Hey, this is not the same thing. At all. I am a fully recovered white knight, who has traded in his fantasies of saving a damsel-in-distress for the much more realistic – and healthy – fantasy of supporting and aiding his capable girlfriend through a difficult time. Instead of pulling you onto my faithful steed and riding off with you, I’m standing by your side and offering the use of my lance.”
I sputter a laugh.
He hesitates, as if replaying his words, and then rolls his eyes. “Get your mind out of the gutter, woman.” He pulls me into a kiss and then, with a sigh, moves me aside. “And as much as I would love to distract ourselves with more of that, we need to talk strategy.”
It’s time to share what we know – fully and completely – and plan our next move.
The next morning, we’re on a train to Connecticut. Yes, a train. After yesterday’s encounter, we want to stick to public places as much as possible.
For a disguise, we’re playing “Italian newlyweds honeymooning in New York.” Marco wears shorts, sandals and a button-down shirt, all designer wear, fitting the stereotype of the fashionable European. I’m in a linen sundress and heels with a wig of long strawberry-blond hair brushed straight. We both sport shiny wedding bands, and I have a gorgeous fake engagement ring.
We get business-class tickets and speak in Italian. When we need to communicate with anyone, I let Marco do it – he has the properly accented English. Even in Italian, we mostly chatter about our honeymoon in case anyone nearby speaks the language.
Once on the train, we find ourselves in a half-empty car – it’s midmorning, and we’re traveling out of New York. We can relax then, and while we stick to Italian, we’re not as careful with what we say unless someone’s walking past.
To anyone seeing us, we maintain our personas. I sit with my shoes off and my feet curled beneath me as I lean against my new husband. The perfect picture of newly wedded bliss.
As befits a modern couple, while we’re cuddling together, we’re also on our separate phones. Marco assured me the train Wi-Fi is safe for what I’m doing, which is getting more information on Jamison’s facility, so we’re prepared. Marco is the one doing the case work – he’s cultivated a few contacts by trading tidbits of my information. He’d only traded the stuff Iwantto give away, of course. Scraps like “Look at the photo of the redhead at the hotel. Lucy Callahan is five-nine. That woman isn’t more than five-three.” Or “I’ve heard Lucy received early-morning texts from Isabella. Has anyone examined Isabella’s phone records?” Or “Someone called the hotel staff to Isabella’s room when Lucy just happened to be on the premises. Doesn’t that seem odd?”
He has traded carefully, and judiciously and entirely in my best interests.
When I finish checking out the rehab facility, I search for developments on the case. It takes a while before I find one, and when I do, I have to laugh. I expect Marco to ask what’s funny. When he doesn’t – presuming I’ll explain when I’m ready – I finish reading the article first.
“So, get this,” I say, waving the phone. “Colt gave his first interview as a widower, and the man has actually found a way to make this all about him. I’m not sure if I should be enraged by his arrogance or impressed by his ingenuity. Colt is claiming Isabella’s death is part of a conspiracy against him. A conspiracy that began – get this – with our scandal.”
Marco says nothing, as if waiting for me to go on.
“According to Colt,” I say, “someone set him up fourteen years ago. Someone who recognized he was in a vulnerable position and foisted me on him, knowing he’d fall prey to temptation.” I snort. “Because I wassucha temptress. According to Colt, someone sent me to him in his moment of weakness, hoping that the scandal would torpedo his career. Instead, he came back stronger than ever, which proves his talent.”
