Page 16 of Clay

None of his research had shown that she was shacking up with a guy, especially one who was ex-military. It took one to know one, although he could tell this guy hadn’t been in the Corps like him. No he was slick, walked with a barelydiscernible limp, rode a really nice motorcycle. Definitely Air Force, considering that Nellis was right down the street. Pussy.

He briefly considered liberating the bike from the flyboy but figured it was just an extra complication he didn’t need. So instead, he waited and watched, even though everything in him wanted to just barge in and smash.

He'd watched them walk next to each other, saw the sparks coming off of the both of them. They weren’t banging—yet—even though it was written in every line of their bodies that they were going to.

He didn’t know how he could use that to his advantage, but he was going to.

~~~

She worked steadily for the next hour, her creativity back with a vengeance, and put the last touches on the portrait before calling her client to arrange a pick-up at the café she’d met Clay at later that afternoon. Surely, he’d be back by then.

It was her preferred meeting spot—public, tasteful, with just enough neighborhood history to make it interesting.

He finally showed as she was starting to get fidgety, as she started to wonder if she was going to have to break her word and leave the studio without him.

When he walked through the door, she saw he’d changed his clothes, so the extra time he’d been gone made sense. A backpack was slung over one shoulder, his leather coat draped over the other arm.

He was still just as dangerous to her senses as he’d been this morning.

He also looked just as serious. She wondered if he ever had different expressions, if he ever looked at the lighter side of life.

She got him a cup of iced tea and motioned him into one of the chairs, telling him about her phone call as she did.

He sat up straight at that.

“Give me your phone,” he said. She handed it over to him, and he forwarded the call info to his friend. Then he handed it back to her. “No more answering calls from people you don’t know.”

“What if it’s a client? Or Katie?” she shook her head. “No can do. I’m not gonna stop living my life over something wethinkmight be happening. I won’t be foolhardy, and I promise not to talk to strangers in person.”

He was giving her the steely glare she was getting accustomed to, but it didn’t faze her. She knew he was trying to keep her safe. Knew that she was his number one priority, even when it should be Katie. She wasn’t sure how she knew that deep in her bones, but she did.

His phone pinged with an incoming text within minutes. “Damn,” he whispered. “The warranty call came from South Carolina as well,” he stood, took a last gulp of his tea. “It's not a coincidence. Someone’s trying to find you. How much did you actually talk to them?”

“Not much,” she replied. “He knew my name, though, and the make of my old car.” Unease slithered through her. “Do they usually know your name?”

He shrugged and the motion was anything but easy. “Sometimes, it just depends on what database they’re working off of. But neither Dev nor I think that’s the case here. Two calls from private numbers in two days, both of them coming from the same area code in South Carolina, where your friend left abruptly. It’s not a coincidence either of us are particularly comfortable with.”

Ivy thought hard. Her natural inclination was to see the best in people. To shrug off the calls as the coincidence Clay was sure it wasn't. But her gut instincts had screamed at her to call him after that first contact and had continued to keep her alert when normally she would have returned to her daily routines. So, as much as it went against her nature, she'd be suspicious.

“Okay,” she said. “I accept that these calls are fishy, but here’s the thing. Katie had a whole support network there, even after her folks died. She wasn’t alone by any stretch of the imagination.”

Clay seemed to ponder that for a while. “Unless she was embarrassed.”

Now that, Ivy could see. “Katie is really private until you get to know her. I guess it made sense to me that she wanted to move after her parents died. I know what it felt like when my dad passed, and I can't even imagine what it was like to lose both so suddenly.” Guilt began to tunnel through her. “I should have asked more questions. But I just wanted to give her some space to grieve, and then she seemed to start enjoying life again. I didn't want to bring her pain back to the surface just because I wanted her to share her feelings with me. It seemed selfish.” She buried her face in her hands. "What if she was hiding from something else entirely, not her grief?"

She felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, quit beating yourself up. If Katie had wanted to talk to you about any of this, she would have. You're her best friend, but she's still an adult who made her own decisions.”

Ivy lifted her face, looked up into his.

Eyes that had seemed distant before were now warm with compassion and a kind of haunted knowing that said he’d suffered loss as well.

As much as she wanted to swan dive into his arms, she stiffened her spine.

The whole reason he was here was to help Katie, not to comfort her.

“Thanks,” she said, bereft when he moved back to his chair.

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