are you.”
They stopped. He admired her and was leaning in for a kiss when she put a hand to his chest. “I don’t do one night stands.”
“Then let’s go out again tomorrow.”
His heart dipped at her smile. He wasn’t used to being wooed, and the unsteady pressure on his chest warned him he should definitely watch out. He reminded himself he was only using her to find out more about Darrell’s accountant and what she might know about the business.
But when she walked him to the door and stood on tiptoe to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek, he almost forgot about his mission.
***
Rayma
Rayma watched the news the next morning with a sick flutter in her stomach. She hadn’t turned it on since she’d been fired, unable to tolerate seeing who they’d found to replace her. She sneered when she noticed Amy, the weekend anchor. Amy had been vying for the weekday morning anchor since being hired three months ago. She should have known.
But none of that mattered now. A man had been found dead on the beach. He’d been identified as Bill Fletcher, and she recognized him as Darrell Weberley’s chauffeur. She’d met him once. It had been a few weeks after she and Mike had started dating, the one and only time besides the night of their breakup that he’d taken her to Vin Doux.
She watched the news again, scrawled a few notes, and then fired up her computer, uncertain what to do next. She wouldn’t blog about this, not until she’d drafted a few of her thoughts and slept on it a day or two. Although she desperately wanted to be back in investigative journalism, she couldn’t afford to be hasty, not anymore. One day soon, she’d need a job again, and she couldn’t go around accusing one of the largest employers of this area for killing his chauffeur.
His other employee crowded her thoughts. Camden had been a perfect date, and she wouldn’t mind going out with him again to discover information about his boss. The problem was he made her forget her goal to expose Vin Doux for its drug operations. She hadn’t asked many questions about his job. Best to wait, not be too desperate, but she couldn’t think when she was near him. The last thing on her mind last night had been the fact he worked for a bad guy—or that he might be one himself.
Maybe she should just pack up her bags and leave. Her friend James would let her stay with him as long as necessary. Her throat closed at the idea. She wasn’t ready to go back to Austin, to the life she left behind. She’d left the job she loved, friends she loved, to transform her life. That transformation was supposed to be about finding serenity, to stop chasing after danger. That’s why the morning anchor job had been so appealing at first.
She checked her website’s email, determined to get busy on her resume as soon as she went through her messages. Her heart dropped when she saw a subject line that said simply “Vin Doux.”
There’s more to Vin Doux than chefs fighting. Pier 18. Drug manufacturing.
Danger always seemed to find her. Her senses were on high alert as she searched for the email address, but nothing came up anywhere online. She pulled up the search engine map and typed in “Pier 18.”
There were many commercial piers in Hammer Bay, but Rayma had never heard of Pier 18. Half of the piers were situated downtown along the banks of the gulf waters, and not all of them were labeled by numbers. The third pier, titled Boater’s Bay Pier, butted against Darrell’s adjoining restaurant.
She zoomed in on an abandoned cargo handling facility several miles out of town, and noticed the number eighteen. A rundown fishing pier, it was a perfect location for illicit drugs with deep enough water for someone to dock there. At least one building was still standing nearby, but she couldn’t zoom in close enough to see much detail on the structure.
Her blood ran cold, and she watched the news again to be sure, but yes, that was near
They stopped. He admired her and was leaning in for a kiss when she put a hand to his chest. “I don’t do one night stands.”
“Then let’s go out again tomorrow.”
His heart dipped at her smile. He wasn’t used to being wooed, and the unsteady pressure on his chest warned him he should definitely watch out. He reminded himself he was only using her to find out more about Darrell’s accountant and what she might know about the business.
But when she walked him to the door and stood on tiptoe to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek, he almost forgot about his mission.
***
Rayma
Rayma watched the news the next morning with a sick flutter in her stomach. She hadn’t turned it on since she’d been fired, unable to tolerate seeing who they’d found to replace her. She sneered when she noticed Amy, the weekend anchor. Amy had been vying for the weekday morning anchor since being hired three months ago. She should have known.
But none of that mattered now. A man had been found dead on the beach. He’d been identified as Bill Fletcher, and she recognized him as Darrell Weberley’s chauffeur. She’d met him once. It had been a few weeks after she and Mike had started dating, the one and only time besides the night of their breakup that he’d taken her to Vin Doux.
She watched the news again, scrawled a few notes, and then fired up her computer, uncertain what to do next. She wouldn’t blog about this, not until she’d drafted a few of her thoughts and slept on it a day or two. Although she desperately wanted to be back in investigative journalism, she couldn’t afford to be hasty, not anymore. One day soon, she’d need a job again, and she couldn’t go around accusing one of the largest employers of this area for killing his chauffeur.
His other employee crowded her thoughts. Camden had been a perfect date, and she wouldn’t mind going out with him again to discover information about his boss. The problem was he made her forget her goal to expose Vin Doux for its drug operations. She hadn’t asked many questions about his job. Best to wait, not be too desperate, but she couldn’t think when she was near him. The last thing on her mind last night had been the fact he worked for a bad guy—or that he might be one himself.
Maybe she should just pack up her bags and leave. Her friend James would let her stay with him as long as necessary. Her throat closed at the idea. She wasn’t ready to go back to Austin, to the life she left behind. She’d left the job she loved, friends she loved, to transform her life. That transformation was supposed to be about finding serenity, to stop chasing after danger. That’s why the morning anchor job had been so appealing at first.
She checked her website’s email, determined to get busy on her resume as soon as she went through her messages. Her heart dropped when she saw a subject line that said simply “Vin Doux.”
There’s more to Vin Doux than chefs fighting. Pier 18. Drug manufacturing.
Danger always seemed to find her. Her senses were on high alert as she searched for the email address, but nothing came up anywhere online. She pulled up the search engine map and typed in “Pier 18.”
There were many commercial piers in Hammer Bay, but Rayma had never heard of Pier 18. Half of the piers were situated downtown along the banks of the gulf waters, and not all of them were labeled by numbers. The third pier, titled Boater’s Bay Pier, butted against Darrell’s adjoining restaurant.
She zoomed in on an abandoned cargo handling facility several miles out of town, and noticed the number eighteen. A rundown fishing pier, it was a perfect location for illicit drugs with deep enough water for someone to dock there. At least one building was still standing nearby, but she couldn’t zoom in close enough to see much detail on the structure.
Her blood ran cold, and she watched the news again to be sure, but yes, that was near
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