Wrong Place, Wrong Time (Pete 'Monty' Montgomery 1)

Devon heard the hard note in Blake’s tone. Her head snapped around, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized his profile. Even in the dimly lit car, she could see the muscle working in his jaw. “Did he threaten me?” she asked quietly.

“Not in so many words.” Blake eased the Jag to a stop. He cut the motor and turned to face Devon. “When it comes to protecting his family, particularly James, my grandfather knows no bounds. So it’s time for you to assume a low profile. I’ll take it from here.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe contact the horse farm in Uruguay. Maybe go see Vista alone, and try to smooth things over. I’m a Pierson. Ultimately, my family loyalty won’t be questioned. Whoever I contact will be more apt to give me information.”

Devon gave a hard shake of her head. “That tactic’s too passive. We need to do something drastic, before Vista gets rid of the evidence.”

“We can’t beat it out of him.”

“I know.” Devon dragged a frustrated hand through her hair. “But we’re at a dead end. I’m not getting another word out of James. Any leverage I had with him is gone. I’ve exhausted all my avenues. At the same time, I feel like we’re this close.” She held up her gloved hand, her thumb and forefinger extended with just an inch of space separating them.

“So do I. Which is why I’m calling your father in the morning—as per his instructions. We’ll tell him what happened. Let him call the shots.”

“Fair enough.” Devon blew out her breath. “Sorry if I’m short-fused. I just feel like we’re in limbo. And I want this to be over.”

“I know.” Blake’s knuckles brushed her cheek. “You’re wound up. We

both are.” Deliberately, he shifted emotional gears. “As luck would have it, that’s one problem I know how to fix.”

“Really.” Devon understood what he was trying to do, and she welcomed the reprieve. “What’s your solution?” she asked, her lips curving slightly.

“Come inside and I’ll show you.”

“You’re on.”

MONTY SNATCHED UP the Bat Phone when it rang. “You’re late.”

“A minute and a half,” Sally clarified. “That’s not late.”

“For you it is. Especially under these circumstances. Listen, Sal, with what’s going on, I prefer your busting my chops to making me sweat.”

A heartbeat of silence.

“Sorry.” Monty realized how sharp he’d sounded. “I didn’t mean to bite your head off. I’m just in a lousy mood.” He pulled open his kitchen cabinet, banging around until he’d found a clean mug. Then he poured himself some day-old coffee and took a gulp. “I probably need some sleep.”

“Don’t expect to get any,” Sally responded mildly. “Not unless the brew you’re chugging down is decaf.”

“It is. How’d you know I was drinking coffee?”

“I recognize the sounds—and the mood. So instead of apologizing, why don’t you tell me why you’re so riled up. Is it Devon? Did she call in with something that threw you?”

“Nope. She’s still with the Piersons.”

“Are you worried about her?”

“Not really. Blake’s with her. Plus, no one’s going to pull something stupid or reckless right out in the open. Still, I have this niggling feeling in my gut. I’m not sure why—which puts me even more on edge.”

Sally didn’t argue. She trusted Pete’s instincts. They were rarely wrong. “So what are you going to do?”

“Stick around in case I’m needed. Distract myself by working. Review my notes. Double-check a few people on the Pierson enemy list. The usual.”

“Which includes waiting for Devon to call.”

“If she calls,” Monty corrected. “Like I said, she’s with Blake. I don’t expect to hear from them till tomorrow.”

“Right.” Sally’s tone was troubled.