Tied Bond (Holly Woods Files, #4) (23 page)

“Honey, you snore all the time. You can take a fifteen-minute catnap and you’re snoring like you’re scaring away ghosts.”

“You’re so lucky I love you.”

“I could say the same for you. Do you know how many people I’d deal with snoring in my car? No one but you. No one. So stop ya bitchin’, Detective, and wake the fuck up.”

“I swear it’s not even just love. It’s blow jobs. If I didn’t love you and you weren’t a master at sucking cock, you’d be dumped.”

“You’re welcome, your highness. I take payment in the form of Gigi’s and declarations of my fabulousness, so you’re almost there.”

“Good to know.” He sits up fully in the seat and turns the radio up.

I guess he doesn’t want to talk. God, I love it when he’s a morning person. What a fucking ray of sunshine.

I snort at my own joke and turn toward Colton’s Classic Cars per the GPS’s directions. “We’re almost there. Can you try to be human?”

“I’m good, sweetheart. You know how I feel about early mornings. I just can’t deal with them.”

I want to laugh, but... Okay, I laugh. “I know. It’s hilarious. It’s like raising the dead.”

“Shut up. We need to stop for coffee after this visit.”

“I was thinking a coffee-and-cupcake place.”

“So, Jason needs to find somewhere, right?”

“Exactly that.” I flash him a grin as I pull into the parking area outside the exhibition building.

It looks like a big-ass area, and I’m slightly apprehensive about taking a step inside it. The cars inside appear to be older than I am, and I’m almost sure they look better than I do, so yeah.

It’s a sad day when a Mustang is hotter than you are.

Again with the big-girl panties. Ugh.

I get out of my car when Jason pulls up beside me. The plan is that I’m simply there as an accessory to charm as needed. Their badges will do the talking. And, hey, it’s unethical but not illegal. They’re not exactly lying or impersonating law enforcement agents. They’re the legit thing.

Me? I’m looking at the old cars and just happen be in the store at the same time as these two hunky-as-fuck guys.

Let’s get real here: My life could be worse.

I sit back in the driver’s seat and make sure my makeup and my hair are right. After another sweep of lipstick, I decide I’m good enough to play the dumb chick looking for a car for her boyfriend.

Which does bring me to the point of why I always get stuck with the shitty job, but hey.

I guess fluttering eyelashes won’t work if you’re six feet two, have a beard, and look like you lift weights on a daily basis. I’d sure like to see them try though. On video, preferably.

“Do you have to wear that lipstick in there? How do you expect me to concentrate?”

Smiling, I turn to him, and then I pout playfully. He shakes his head and laughs before getting out of my car and going over to Jason. I don’t understand why I can’t just sit in the car and wait for them to get back. I don’t have to go in and play the clueless bimbo. Not really.

I’m just too nosy not to. Plus, I’m hoping there will be a guy there I can charm some info out of.

When a couple of minutes have passed and the guys are inside, I slide out of my car and hook my purse over my shoulder. The only good thing to come out of this is that, to play the rich bimbo, I get to wear my most favorite shoes. The heels are way too high to wear normally, so I’m counting it as a win.

And let’s be honest. When the holy grail of shoes costs five hundred bucks and you can’t wear them daily... I ain’t sitting in the car with them.

I lock my car and walk toward the sprawling display room. There are cars I don’t think I’ve ever seen in my life on display in the windows. Some are probably older than my parents. I don’t recognize a single one, so maybe my clueless act won’t be such an act after all.

I push the glass door open. My heels click against the tiled floor as I step in, and I quickly realize something: I’m the only woman in the room.

Excellent.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” A man in his forties approaches me with his hands clasped at the base of his back. He’s dressed super smartly, and when I give him my full attention, I notice Drake and Jason talking to an even older man in the corner.

“Yes, hi!” I throw him my most disarming smile and twirl a piece of hair around my finger. “Um, I’m looking to buy my fiancé a car for a wedding present, but I don’t know a dang thing about these. Can you help me?”

“I sure can, ma’am. What kind of car does he like?”

“Um.” I look up to the ceiling with my lips pursed. “Old ones.”

The gentleman smiles. “Well, we have lots of those.”

“Is it a Mustard?” I pause and frown. “I think he said something like that.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Drake disguising a laugh.

“Mustang?” the salesman offers.

“That’s it! Gosh, you’re good. A Mustang. Not a Mustard. How embarrassing.”

“Don’t worry. You’re not the first person to get your cars mixed up with your condiments. If you’ll follow me, we have some outstanding Mustangs in perfect condition.” He leads me across the showroom to where the Mustangs are and begins talking about the best things about it and selling me stuff with all sorts of figures.

I keep half an eye on Drake and Jason as this guy leads me from car to car.

I’ve gotta admit: The guy’s good. I have no idea what he’s saying and I kinda wanna write him a check. These Mustangs sure are pretty. Although they aren’t very inconspicuous, so not great work cars, and they’re undoubtedly way too expensive to use casually.

Shame. It’d look nice on my driveway.

“So, what do you think?”

His words pull me out of my thoughts. “I really like the red one, but I’m definitely going to have to think about it.”

“Of course. I can give you an information pamphlet if you’d like one.”

“That’d be real nice. Thank you. But it’s not so much the car.” I bite the inside of my cheek and rest my hand on my chest. “I saw on the news that the owner of this business recently passed away. Does that affect y’all’s business at all?”

“Please don’t worry, ma’am. The business has been run primarily by his daughter for the past two years, and she’s done a good enough job. We were informed by her lawyer just yesterday that she’s now the sole owner of the company, and although she is considering selling, there are several things she must do first. It’s a process that’ll take several years, according to him.”

“Really? Why so long? I would imagine it shouldn’t take that long.”

“I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t be discussing this with you past a reassurance.”

“Of course. I totally understand.” I touch his arm. “I’m just concerned. This car is real expensive, and while I could cut y’all a check for it all right now, if y’all were to go out of business, I wouldn’t know a thing about where to take it to be maintained.”

The gentleman standing in front of me studies me as he contemplates my words.
Come on, man. Give me something. Anything.

“Well, between you and I, ma’am, we’re barely turning a profit the last I knew. I’ve been here for fifteen years, and we aren’t selling or buying any new cars. Although, as I understand it, Mr. Thornton had a sizable life insurance policy that will allow Miss Thornton to balance the affairs of Cotton’s Classic Cars and sell it to someone who can devote all their time to it.”

Aaaand there’s my something.

I notice Drake and Jason leaving the showroom, so it’s time to go. “Thank you so much,” I tell him. “Would you mind getting me that information pamphlet? I’d love to have my brother help out with makin’ a choice.”

“Of course. Two moments, please.” He shuffles off to the other side of the showroom and retrieves the supposed pamphlet. It’s really more like two or three sheets of paper stapled together.

Ten out of ten for trying though, I suppose.

“Thank you so much,” I say when he hands it to me. “I’ll be sure to be in touch real soon.”

With that, I turn and walk back to the glass door. I feel the salesman’s eyes on me as I go, and I hope it’s because he thinks I’m hot rather than for any other reason. Unless he’s finally noticed that my left hand is bare, of course.

Ah well. I’m never coming back here, after all. It really doesn’t make a difference.

I open my door and drop my butt onto the seat with a huff. “That was the single worst thing I’ve ever done in my life. If I ever get that dumb or spacey, please punch me in the face.”

“Mustard,” Drake says flatly, turning to look at me. “Mustard. Really?”

“Shut your mouth. I needed to do something, didn’t I?” I put my key in the ignition. “I needed to convince the guy I had no idea what I was talking about. He believed me, and the second I mentioned I could pay for one of those cars in full, he was very forthcoming.”

“You can pay for one of those in full?”

“No, but I’m not engaged, either,” I say pointedly, glancing at him. “So it’s a moot point. And shouldn’t you be more concerned about the information I gleaned than my attempts at lying about my finances?”

“You told him you were engaged? Is that why you were flirting up a storm?” Drake’s eyebrows shoot up.

“I was not flirtin’ with him!”

“You were.”

“I was not!”

“Don’t get angry.”

“I’m not angry. I don’t
get
angry. I get passionate.”

“I know. But it sure is fun tellin’ you you’re getting angry.”

“I swear to God I will stop this car and beat you.”

“No, you won’t. You’re not a violent person unless cupcakes are involved, and I think we should go to Gigi’s.”

“You’re just sayin’ that to butter me up, Detective.”

“Sure am.” He laughs loudly. “Okay, to be serious: We spoke to the manager, and he didn’t really tell us much. Just that Kat isn’t a huge player in the business. They haven’t had anything new from the workshop for almost two months. They’re starting to get concerned, and because her journalism is picking up, she has less and less time for them.”

“Makes sense. The guy told me that they’re not only not getting new cars, but they’re not selling anything, either. He said they’re barely turning a profit, and Kat’s lawyers have said that once she’s put the company back on the straight and narrow, she’s probably going to sell it.”

“Interesting. So they’re barely turning a profit, yet she has things to settle? Sounds like there’s a little more of a loss going on than we think.”

“Yeah, and the best part?” I take the turn to Gigi’s. “According to the attorney, Wally has a sizable life insurance policy. I’m going to ask Carlton to pull it up.”

“You think she killed her father for the money?”

“She was the majority owner of the company before he died, and the only person I can think of who would be the beneficiary is Kat. Your mom wouldn’t be, Rosie wouldn’t be, and your mom told me that Wally and Kat’s mom are highly estranged, so I can’t see her being the beneficiary, either. As far as I know, he never had a partner after he took over the business. Kat’s the only option, plus Carlton told me before that she’s his registered next of kin.”

“So you’re looking at her as your prime suspect, with money as the motive.” Drake turns in the seat to look at me. “It actually makes more sense than anything. She could have easily framed my mom. Kat hasn’t been in Holly Woods for years—most people probably wouldn’t have recognized her walking down the street, let alone in costume.”

“Right. I had no idea what she looked like until your mom pointed her out to me at the viewing.” I take my lower lip between my teeth and slowly let it go. “The only problem is that I think she has an alibi. She was supposedly at a press conference.”

“Unless there are people who can say they definitely saw her, that’s not ironclad. Someone could have gotten in using her identification and pretended to be her. All she’d need is someone who looks like her... Maybe a cousin or even a close friend.”

This all makes sense... A lot of sense.

“Okay,” I say, “so I need to call Carlton and ask him to investigate Kat’s relations and see if he can find Wally’s life insurance policy.”

We get out of the car, and Drake says, “You know, I’m starting to get alarmed at how easily I’m adjusting to your illegal means of getting information.”

“And I keep telling you: It’s not illegal if I don’t steal it. I just borrow it.”

“And I keep telling you: It is illegal.”

“And I think you should zip your lips because you’re working for me right now. So I not only have the power of withholding sex, I can tell you what to do when I want you to do it.” I offer him a sassy smile.

“That’s what you think,” he mutters, grabbing the door of Gigi’s Cupcakes and standing in front of me. “Are you paying me?”

“No. You’re getting paid from the police department.” I look up into his eyes.

“Then I don’t work for you.” His mouth spreads into a shit-eating grin that glows in his gaze. “Now, agree or I’m haulin’ your ass over my shoulder and back into that car without cupcakes.”

I gasp. That’s a threat and a half, considering the cupcakes are his idea. He brought them up, not me. “Ugh, fine,” I groan. I’m gonna have to give him that. I want the cupcakes. “You work with me. Now, give me cupcakes.” I prod his stomach with my nail.

“All right, all right. You win.”