The P.I.

“And the card you just whipped out of your shirt?”

“I carry a few with me at all times. Nate’s is especially useful. Part of being a good P.I. is being able to lie quickly and well at a moment’s notice. And you picked up your cues like a pro.”

“It was fun. I suppose I should feel guilty about that, but this is one time when paying the piper will almost be worth it.”

Kit’s expression sobered. “What do you mean about paying the piper? You’ve got your job back.”

“But once Ms. Whitlaw finds out the truth, that you’re not my agent and that Neiman Marcus doesn’t want my designs exclusively, she’ll fire me again.”

“She most certainly won’t.” He winked at her. “Not while you’ve got Nate Cashman on your side.” Taking out his cell phone, he punched numbers in.

“Who are you calling?”

“My brother Theo. He’s the man who writes up all my contracts. I’m not sure he’s picking up his cell. I’ll just leave him one more message.”

Theo answered on the second ring. “This better be important.”

It was only when his brother spoke that Kit realized how much he’d wanted to hear that soft drawl.

“I’m pulling into the parking lot at St. Joe’s right now,” Theo continued.

“Then Mario contacted you?” Kit asked. “You’re taking Roman’s case?”

“He hasn’t been charged yet. I’m hoping it won’t come to that.”

For the first time since he’d stood next to Nik staring down at the tape that had outlined Roman’s body, Kit felt some of his concern for his friend ease. Now that Theo was on the scene, he knew that Roman was in good hands.

“If that’s why you called to leave me one more message…” Theo began.

“I also need a favor.”

“Of course,” Theo drawled. “Why else would you call?”

The dry note in his brother’s voice had Kit’s lips curving. “I could mention that turnabout’s fair play. I’ve done my fair share of pro bono work for you.”

“Make it fast. I’m in the elevator on the way up to Roman’s floor.”

“I need a contract drawn up—a client of mine has a verbal agreement with a shop on Pier 39. They take her designs on consignment and give her twenty percent when and if something sells. I think a fifty-fifty split would be more equitable. And if they balk at that, I’d like a second contract to stipulate that if they want the designs, they have to buy them up front at a price to be negotiated and agreed to by the store and the designer.”

“Got it,” Theo said. “I’ll add that the selling price has to be negotiated, too, and that if it’s raised, the designer has to be compensated at fifty percent of the increase.”

“I like the way your mind works, bro. Hold on for a second, will you?” Leaning forward, Kit spoke to the driver. “Go right on past the front of the restaurant, and drop us off at the alley entrance.”

“You won’t get anything from me until Monday or Tuesday at the earliest,” Theo said. “I’ll have my new intern handle it.”

“You have an intern?”

“Just got myself one. Is that all you wanted?”

“Keep me posted,” Kit said.

“Ditto.”

As the taxi braked to a stop in the alley behind The Poseidon, Kit closed his cell and put it in his pocket. “Theo’s at the hospital.”

“Do you want to go there?” Drew asked.

Kit let out a frustrated breath. “Roman’s still in surgery. I’m of more use to him if I can find out what really happened in that church.”

“You will. You’re going to find the truth.”

The belief in her eyes did a lot to soothe the anxiety moving through him. He passed a bill to the taxi driver and then drew her out of the car. “We’re going to find the truth together—if you’re up to it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have a plan.”

17

THE POSEIDON WAS packed. Philly had squeezed them into a table near the bar where customers stood two deep. Waiters deftly threaded their way through the crowds, their trays piled high with food, and the scents were making Drew’s mouth water.

Above the buzz of conversation and the clink of dishware, Drew could just catch the thrum of Greek music. It drifted in from the outside patio where she caught a glimpse of a dance floor. Kit had elbowed his way to the bar to fetch some wine, and she could see that he was talking to his father as he watched the latest newscast on one of the TVs hanging from the ceiling. Glancing at the screen, she recognized the front of St. Peter’s Church. But she couldn’t catch what the newscaster was saying. The next shot was of two young people. Beneath the photos were the names—Paulo Carlucci and Juliana Oliver.

Her head swam for a minute as she recognized the couple from her dream. She once again pictured them in her mind as they pushed through the glass doors of the shop she now knew as Prestige Designs, and she felt the joy they’d radiated. The love.

Another face flashed onto the TV screen, a handsome man. The caption read Roman Oliver.

The memory flashed into her mind, making her head spin. Fighting against the terror that was flooding through her, she pressed her hands to her temples to keep the images in focus. Roman standing at the top of the choir loft stairs, a gun in his hand. She felt the weight of a gun in her own hand.

“Juliana? Are you all right?” a male voice cried out.

“Yes.”

The answering voice—also male—came from behind her. Before she could turn her head, another man leapt out of the darkness and grabbed Roman. He was huge, built like a tank. Blood stained his T-shirt and ran down his arm. The two men fought, ramming into the railing and the wall, their bodies pressed so close together that might have been lovers. Fear coiled into an icy ball in her stomach as they teetered for a moment on the balcony railing. She was sure they were going to fall to the floor below. Then they were on the balcony floor, and Roman was on top.

“Roman!” Someone rushed past her.

“Get her out of here, Paulo. Go to Kit Angelis and—”

The last word was a strangled sound. Then as quickly as the memory had come, it vanished. Drew found herself trembling, staring at Kit, who now had his cell phone pressed to his ear. He’d be checking on Roman. And he’d been right about his friend. Roman had tried to protect Paulo and his sister. Just as Kit was trying to protect her.

Her gaze shifted to the box that the Dragon Lady had emptied her locker into. Kit had placed it on the table, but she hadn’t worked up the courage to open it. Instinct told her that in the quick search he’d done in the D.L.’s office, he’d discovered something that he hadn’t told her yet. Now he was giving her time to make her decision.

She known him less that twenty-four hours, and yet she felt like she’d known him forever. He was a good man. Smart and funny. Generous and sweet. A combination of guardian angel and warrior. A man who trusted his instincts and wasn’t afraid to take a risk. And though she had no right to, she was on the brink of falling in love with him.

Panic sprinted through her. She absolutely couldn’t let herself do that. It wasn’t fair to him. And allowing him to go on shielding her wasn’t fair, either.

She nearly jumped when Helena dropped into the chair across from hers. “Welcome back. I see that Kit is remembering how he was raised and he’s feeding you this time.”

“Yes.”

“The food here is very good, but I will be offended if Kit doesn’t bring you back to my place upstairs tonight. Then afterward you can come down here and dance some traditional Greek dances.”

Today, Helena wore a thin cotton blouse in a vibrant red color and white slacks. Gold hoops glinted at her ears. Then Drew noticed the motorcycle helmet she’d tucked under her arm and her eyes widened.

“Don’t tell me. You actually bought a motorcycle?”

Helena lifted a key, letting it dangle from her thumb and forefinger. “I took the morning off and spent the time becoming the proud new owner of a Harley. That was the easy part. It is trickier learning how to ride it. But I’ve ridden smaller ones in Greece.”

She glanced at the bar. “I’ve never been one to let the grass grow under my feet. Until I met Spiro. So I think you were right. It’s time I unbalanced the status quo.”

Drew leaned closer. “Does Spiro know about the bike?”

With a quick grin, Helena leaned closer. “He’s about to get the news. I’m going to invite him to go for a ride with me tonight after work. You’ll have a ringside seat if there are fireworks.”

She rose just as Kit returned to the table.

“Good luck, Helena.”

Helena drew in a deep breath. “Here goes.”

“What was that about?” Kit asked as he handed her a menu and a glass of wine.

“She bought a motorcycle and she’s going to invite your father to go bike riding after work.”

“Interesting.” Kit glanced at the bar and then back to her. “You like to stir things up, don’t you?”

She took a sip of her wine and set it down. “I don’t know. After meeting Cordelia Whitlaw and hearing ‘Nate Cashman’ talk to your brother Theo about that contract, I’m beginning to think that I used to be the female version of Casper Milquetoast.”