Eva and Angie shared the same mother but had different fathers. Their mother, Marian, had been married to Angie’s dad, Frank Carlson, when she’d met Eva’s dad, Blue Rayburn. Frank and Blue had both worked together at the same museum—the Talbot Foundation, a small, pristine collection of antiquities and eclectic collections associated with the Talbot family.
But the men were as different as night and day. Frank was the staid intellectual who was more worried about his collections than his wife, and Blue had been the dark gypsy who’d been reckless and dangerous and had charmed his way into a security job at the museum. Their mother, after yet another cancelled lunch appointment with her husband, had stalked out of Frank’s office onto an elevator where Blue stood. It hadn’t taken long for Blue to strike up a conversation. Sparks quickly ignited an affair.
When Marian Carlson, pregnant with Eva, had left Frank, he’d filed for custody of four-year-old Angie. His connections had earned him full custody. Marian had only been allowed to see Angie one weekend a month.
Angie remembered the visits to the small house that her mother shared with Blue. She always looked forward to the visits. As the days and hours grew closer for her mother to arrive she’d found it impossible to concentrate. And for a few years, Marian and Blue had shown up with baby Eva without fail.
Then one Friday her mother had called and canceled and had not shown up until late on Saturday. On this visit, Eva had been in her car seat, but Blue had been absent. Angie had never seen Blue again.
The humble house that her mother had shared with her husband and half sister decayed over the next decade. But Angie still looked forward to her visits, savoring the time she spent with her mother and sister.
When her mother had died, Angie had begged her father to allow Eva into his home, but he’d refused.
“She’s better off in foster care, Angelina.”
“Dad, she’s fifteen.”
“She’s not my child.”
“But she is my sister. I’ll fly home and take care of her. I’ll make a home for her.”
“You’re barely nineteen. You can’t, and I won’t let you throw your life away.” His tone softened. “She’s better off with a real family. They have good people in foster care. You’ll see.”
To Angie’s great shame, she’d listened to her father.
Eva had gone into foster care, been awarded an early scholarship to college, and then spent the next ten years in prison.
Angie shoved out a breath, trying not to dwell on the loss. She and Eva had found each other. Their family might not be whole and perfect, but it was their family and it was enough.
Lately, lingering questions about Blue had nagged Angie. She wasn’t sure why she cared about Blue’s fate, but she did. He’d blown up so many lives and just walked away. A month ago she’d hired a private detective to find out what she could about the man. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if they found him, but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.
Eva spotted Angie, smiled, and moved toward her. She paused to fill an iced glass with a diet soda and set it in front of her. “You’re running a little late tonight.”
Angie sipped her soda. “Slammed at work.”
Eva punched in Angie’s order for salmon cakes. “So how’d it go with Lulu?”
“Your pal seems to be eager to make good. I heard from my dress shop friend that she stopped by today and picked up a nice outfit.”
Eva nodded. “Good. She might be one of the few who could pull herself out.”
“Let’s hope.”
“Her court date is still tomorrow?”
“Twelve noon. She’s promised to meet me at the courthouse an hour early so we can review the testimony.”
“Great. I knew you’d take care of business.”
Angie set her glass down carefully, tracing a path through the beads of condensation. “Charlotte has taken on another new client today.”
“Really?” Eva studied her sister, clearly sensing a shift in energy.
“Micah Cross. He wants us to handle the legal work associated with his new charitable foundation.”
Eva shrugged. “Why are you worried about it?”
“I’m not.”
Eva grinned. “You are, Angie. You look like you could explode.”
“Your history with the Cross family was fairly dark. I don’t want to dig into old wounds.” And yet she searched for Blue.
Eva arched a brow. “So you’re telling me you’d walk away from a big client like Micah Cross just so you wouldn’t hurt my feelings.”
Angie didn’t have to process all the variables. “Yes. It would mean leaving the firm because Charlotte would have a meltdown, but I’d walk away.”
Eva stared at her a long moment. The softening in her gaze churned emotions in Angie. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
“Are you okay with this?”
Eva picked up a rag and absently wiped the bar. “Look, Micah wasn’t like his family. He was always kind to me, and when the police investigated his family last year he went out of his way to be helpful. He may have been Josiah’s twin, but he was not evil like his brother.”
“So, you’re okay with me working for him?”
She waved her hand as if brushing away a pesky fly. “Represent away.”
“Thanks.”
Eva retrieved Angie’s appetizer, and just as she set it in front of her, the door to the pub opened. Eva glanced toward the door, and immediately her gaze turned super soft. Angie didn’t need to turn to know that Eva’s boyfriend Deacon Garrison had arrived.
Angie didn’t have a beef with Garrison. Though they’d been on opposite sides of the courtroom, they’d always found a way to be professional and polite. And with him in Eva’s life now, they’d even been friendly on occasion.
However, Deacon’s partner, Malcolm Kier, was a different matter. The detective carried an angry chip on his shoulder when it came to anything associated with Angie. Kier had made his thoughts clear when she’d represented Dixon. And even though she’d gone out of her way to help them with their murder investigation last year, Kier’s opinion of her had been unchanged.
Eva came around
the bar and greeted Garrison, hugging him warmly and kissing him on the lips. “You made it,” she said. He stood nearly a foot taller than her, and she looked so small in his embrace.
Garrison traced a strand off her cheek with his thumb. “I can’t stay long. Just a quick bite.”
Eva squeezed Garrison’s arm. “Then have a seat and I’ll punch your orders in.”
Angie’s heart softened when she saw the two. It kind of gave her hope that people could find love, a fact she’d seriously doubted after her relationship with The Worm, a.k.a. Connor Donovan.
A man settled next to her, and the wide breadth of his shoulders coupled with a familiar scent identified him immediately. Her insides tightened.
“Detective Kier.”
He plucked a French fry from her plate. “Counselor. I hear your kind doesn’t eat real food.”
“My kind?”
“Vampires. I thought you just consumed blood.”
Carefully, she laid her napkin in her lap and picked up her fork. “Sometimes it’s just easier to order a sandwich than scramble for a pint.”
“I heard the politically correct term for vampires was ‘children of the night.’That right?”
“Since when have you ever worried about political correctness?”
“Since never.” He watched Eva and Garrison walk away. “I was just trying to be nice for Eva’s sake.”
“Don’t change your ways on my account, Detective. I’d hate to overtax you.”
She spared him a glance this time. Dark stubble now covered his square jaw, giving him a rugged-mountain-man kind of vibe that was not wholly unattractive. He still wore the same clothes he had on this morning when he’d visited her at the gym, which told her he and Garrison had been going nonstop. That was standard procedure in a murder case, which were more likely solved in the first forty-eight hours when leads were the hottest.
She pushed the food around her plate but didn’t take a bite.