One More Day (The Alexanders 1)

“Yes. I’m something of an expert on the Morenos, which is why I was asked to assist with Mr. Finemore’s case. He met with Moreno the day before his death. Do you have any idea why?”

“Maybe he was doing investigative work for them?”

Agent Graham grunted. “If he was doing work for the Morenos it definitely wasn’t legal. Look, I know Mr. Finemore was a friend of yours, but whatever he got himself into got him killed. You were the last person to see him alive. Somehow, you were also the first person at the scene of the accident.”

He stopped speaking abruptly. Ridley had the distinct feeling that he hadn’t meant to say that last part.

“What exactly are you implying, Agent Graham? You don’t think I had anything to do with this, do you?”

“I didn’t mean that. We just want to figure out what’s going on before anyone else gets hurt. When will you be back in town?”

“I don’t know. I’ll call you back.” Ridley hung up and immediately turned her phone off.

She dragged in a ragged breath, her heart beating so hard she couldn’t hear anything else over the sound. It was tempting to pretend she’d never called Agent Graham. To go on ignoring the signs that had been there since the beginning.

Hadn’t she thought it odd that an FBI agent would be involved in something as simple as a car accident? Now she could no longer ignore the obvious—she was in way over her head. Maybe she should have told Agent Graham that David had come to see her right before the accident. Not that she could see how that would make any difference.

Especially since he already suspected her of killing her friend.

If David had found evidence that Moreno was her father, he would have tried to verify it. But it was doubtful that he would have told Moreno directly of his suspicions. If she could stay off the grid for a while, there was a good chance that Moreno’s people would never know what he really suspected. If she was lucky, they would never know that he might have a daughter. Daughters, she corrected. After all, this wasn’t just about her.

It had been big news in Florida when the Morenos’ only son had died. No wonder David had told her to lie low. If he’d suspected her father was a Moreno, then he wasn’t just being paranoid when he’d told her he was on to something dangerous. He’d been trying to protect her.

Now he was dead, and if whoever killed him had followed her here, she’d led them right to her sister. If Moreno found her, it wouldn’t be long before he found Raina, too.

She and her sister might be his only surviving children.

I have to get out of here.

After pulling her cell charger from the wall, she stuffed it in her backpack and made sure it was zipped securely. The thought of someone following her here, possibly hurting her sister or Jackson, made her sick to her stomach. It was a stupid idea to come here. All she’d done was bring trouble to her sister’s doorstep. She was the one who’d wanted to find their father. This was her mess.

No one else deserved to be dragged into the maelstrom of her life.

The day hadn’t been a total waste because at least she’d been able to rest for a bit and charge her phone. It seemed petty to leave without saying anything to Jackson, but it was probably easier this way. No explanations. No goodbyes.

Business as usual.

* * *

“This way, Raina! Give us that famous smile, sweetheart!”

“Come on, Legs. Just one shot.”

Early Sunday morning, Raina Winters strutted past the horde of paparazzi camped out in front of the Fullerton Hotel, her security team surrounding her like a moving wall of muscle. Her agent had booked her on back-to-back appearances and photo shoots, so she didn’t even have time to enjoy the picturesque hotel with its charming views of the Singapore River. The only thing she would see for the next two weeks unrelated to work was her hotel room, the back of her security chief’s tee shirt, and the inside of her limo. But it would be worth it to get the first real vacation she’d had since she started modeling.

“Come on, Leggy! Give us a money shot.”

The paparazzo who yelled out was one of the regulars who followed her from city to city. He was just as annoying as all the others, but at least he sold good shots of her. Unlike the greasy pig who’d deliberately gotten down low to take a crotch shot when she was exiting her limo after a night of partying last year. He’d made her look like she’d been completely wasted and showed her thong on purpose. Anyone would look like they were flashing their underwear if they had someone kneeling in front of them taking a picture!

“Just one, Sam,” she murmured.

Samuel Gannon, her chief of security, turned back to her and nodded. He motioned for the other security guards to flank her, preventing the photographers from getting too close.

She turned to the side, lowered her chin, and flashed a wide smile. A blinding flurry of flashbulbs went off as the group scrambled to take shots before she whipped around and ducked into her limo. A second later Sam and two other security agents followed. The rest would trail them in a second limo. She only needed this much security when traveling and she couldn’t deny that it was weird having so many people following her around.

In the beginning she’d tried to keep current on who was guarding her and would chat with them, ask about their families. As time went on and her need for additional security grew, it became too difficult to keep track. Sam had been with her since the beginning and she trusted his judgment.

That had to be good enough.

“This morning you have another shoot for…” Sam consulted the clipboard he held. “La Fleur. The skin-care company. Then this afternoon we have the layout for the energy drink.”

“Vitamin supplement.”

Sam smirked. “Whatever you want to call it.”

She pulled her cell phone from her purse and turned it on. She’d been so exhausted the night before she’d shut it off before falling into bed. As it powered up, she looked out the window of the limo as they inched through the crowded streets of central Singapore. People lined the streets, their garments a kaleidoscope of colors. A bike passed by the limo so closely she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d taken the paint off the door.

It was controlled chaos and she wished she could stop the limo and go wading in the sea of people. For once, she’d like to actually experience and enjoy a city while she was there. But she was booked solid for the next two days. Then she was off to the Bahamas for her first shoot with Sports Illustrated.

It was everything she’d been working toward for the last five years. The only thing she hadn’t gotten yet was a major sponsorship deal. Her agent was working on a possible contract with a lingerie company, but she wouldn’t agree unless she was going to be treated like a star.

If they weren’t going to give her a pair of diamond-studded wings, then it wasn’t worth her time.

The screen of her phone flashed and she swiped her thumb over the face to view her log of missed calls. Her sister Ridley had tried to reach her several more times. It was probably time she stopped avoiding her. This was the longest they’d ever gone without speaking since they’d had a crush on the same boy in high school.

“Oh crap.”

Sam looked up from the printed schedule he was reviewing. “What? Is everything okay?”

“I’m not sure. My sister came to see me and I forgot to tell her I changed the security code.”

“Oh, you mean the pathetically obvious security code that I made you change a month ago?” His deep laugh sounded more like the growl of an irritable bear. “Who uses their birthday?”

She gritted her teeth. “Whatever. The point is my sister is locked out. I’m so glad Jackson was home. At least I know she’s safe with him.”

Sam frowned. “What do we know about this guy?”

Raina rolled her eyes and pulled up Ridley’s contact information so she could call her back.

“His boys come over and play in my yard all the time. He’s a music producer, a single dad, and a real sweetheart. Any man who loves his momma that much is okay in my book. Ridley is probably safer with him than she would be staying at my house all alone. I was actually hoping to introduce them at some point, anyway. He’s just the kind of guy my sister needs to be involved with, unlike the losers she normally picks. He’s handsome, successful, and most importantly, rich.”

She heaved a breath. “I’m really happy my sister came but man, this timing sucks. I’ve been trying to get in with Sports Illustrated forever. I can’t miss this shoot.”

“Why would you need to go home? Can’t you just call your sister and give her the code?” Sam asked.

“I don’t want her to be alone. I can barely understand her messages but she sounds like she’s been crying. All I can hear is ‘David’s gone,’ so it sounds like she broke up with her new boyfriend, who was more than a little weird in my opinion. I told her he sounded like a scam artist, but at least this one didn’t last long—” She stopped suddenly, tracing her thumb over the screen of her phone. Ridley’s number was still displayed.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just… I could have not checked my messages this morning. That’s possible, right?”

“Raina,” Sam warned.

“What! I’m just saying this time change is huge. Killer. It’s actually still Saturday evening back home. I could have been so tired that I shut my phone off last night and forgot to turn it back on this morning. Even if I remembered around lunchtime, well… It would be too late to call the East Coast then because it would be midnight there.” Her lips curled up in a small smile.

“You have that look,” Sam drawled. When she narrowed her eyes at him, he clarified. “The look you get when you’re about to do something you know you shouldn’t. Which usually means I’ll have a mess to clean up afterward.”

“Don’t worry, Sam. This is one mess that you won’t have to deal with.” Raina bit her lip. “Besides, I’m not actually going to do anything. It’s more what I’m not going to do.”

Sam didn’t look mollified. “Are you going to ask your sister to join you in the Bahamas?”

“I am not.” She grinned. “She’s finally around the kind of guy she deserves to be with. I think she should stay exactly where she is.”

* * *