Grim’s eyebrows climbed. “You’re quitting already?”

  She frowned. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this. I don’t seem to be getting the hang of it.” The only thing she liked about it so far were the clothes—the black leather jacket matched her riding boots and made her feel protected… and cool.

  “Bikes aren’t for everyone,” he said. “But you just need practice. Do you remember the first time you got on a horse?”

  “Yeah—I fell off.”

  He laughed. “Well, you obviously got back on again.”

  “I did,” she conceded.

  “Look, there’s no rush. You can take as long as you want to get comfortable with the bike. We’ll ride in the dirt and the grass before I put you on pavement.” He averted his gaze, then looked back to her. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  She gave him a wry smile. “That’s top of my list, too. Will this jacket protect me if I have an accident?”

  “Some,” he said, “but except for the helmet, the gear will only protect you in a superficial spill. Kentucky doesn’t have a helmet law except for minors, but I think it goes without saying you should always wear it.”

  Octavia frowned. “It’s a hair-wrecker.”

  He laughed again. “Yeah. But it’ll protect your pretty head.”

  “Where did you get the bike and the gear?”

  “People try to sell me a lot of things in my line of work—cars, bikes, golf carts.”

  “You must’ve liked this to have bought it.”

  “I meant to sell it, but never got around to it.” He lifted his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “But if you don’t want to learn to ride it, that’s fine. You can always drive the Cadillac or the Monte Carlo.”

  Octavia scowled, then pulled the helmet back on and fastened the strap. She reached up to turn the key and the bike roared to life. Grim smiled and gave her a thumbs up.

  At the end of two hours, she was riding in a large slow circle, with Grim in the center giving her directions.

  “Good, let me see you brake… get in the habit of using your front and back brake together. Squeeze that front brake, don’t yank. Good. That’s enough for today. Think you can ride it back to the garage?”

  “If you trust me.”

  “I do.”

  Octavia inhaled deeply, then steered the bike back toward the garage. She was getting used to the feel of the bike under her and around her, and she liked the tactile sensation of driving it. Like most new cars her Jaguar didn’t even have a key—just a start button, and the gear shift was more for looks than functionality.

  When she reached the garage she braked slowly, then put her feet down to walk it into its appointed spot, carefully guiding it around the vehicles and Grim’s own bikes. She killed the engine, then put down the kickstand and climbed off. After removing the helmet, she set it on the top shelf of an industrial looking clothing rack. When Grim walked up, she was hanging the jacket on the rack next to other leather jackets and pants with various degrees of wear that were obviously Grim’s.

  “You already look like a pro,” he said.

  Unable to tamp down her excitement, she smiled wide. “I know I have a lot to learn, but… I like it.”

  He grinned. “Good. Next time we’ll go to a parking lot nearby.”

  Octavia finger-combed her hair. “Can I ask another favor?”

  He angled his head. “You want to borrow the jewels again?”

  “No. I mean—yes, someday. But for now, could I borrow your truck?”

  He turned to follow her line of sight. “The panel truck? You moving something?”

  She squirmed. “I, uh, need to remove some things from my house in Louisville.”

  “Ah. Well, sure, but it’s a bit of a bear to drive.”

  “It can’t be worse than that dreadful minivan.”

  “It is. When do you need it?”

  “I was thinking Friday.”

  He pulled on his chin. “I’ll go with you if you want. Won’t you need some help loading things?”

  She nodded, relieved that he’d offered. “That would be… helpful.”

  “That’s me—helpful.”

  When the air between them started to feel thick, she said, “I should go. Linda will be wondering where I am. By the way, she doesn’t know about the motorcycle thing, and for now I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “Your call,” he said. “I’ll drive the truck to the shop Friday morning—meet you there?”

  She nodded, then turned and walked back to the minivan. When she started the engine, she glanced in the side mirror to see Grim lowering the garage door and locking up. She tried to identify the sensation she felt when she was around him. He was… competent. There was something very appealing about a man who was capable, and confident enough not to be showy about it. Richard had needed constant pumping up, which had played into her desire to cheerlead.

  But Grim Hollister wasn’t the kind of man who needed a cheerleader.

  She frowned. He didn’t need someone like her.

  She was halfway home when her phone rang. When she saw “Dominick’s” restaurant on the screen, her pulse shot up.

  “Hello, Wally?”

  “Yeah, it’s me. Yo, I got another delivery of rolled oysters with the hot beer cheese. You want it?”

  “Only if it’s for a different customer.”

  “Yeah, different customer… Price.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath—it was close to Pierce. “I’ll be there in ten.”

  Octavia sped to the restaurant and was in and out—and down a hundred dollars—in record time. The order was just as malodorous as before but going to a nicer part of town. Since Pierce was used to living large, maybe his hideout was equally nice.

  When she found the address, she pulled the minivan into the driveway and glanced all around. The houses were bigger and on larger lots—more privacy.

  Her heart was clicking as she walked up the steps to the house. Inside the lights were low. The silhouette of a large man walking around was outlined through a front window. She rang the doorbell, then hefted the bag of food in one hand and positioned her camera in the other. This could be it. She was already rehearsing her triumphant phone call to Rogena Everwild.

  When the door swung open the man was backlit. He was the right height, the right size.

  Then he stepped into the light and her shoulders dropped.

  Different race.

  “Delivery from Dominick’s,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

  “Hey, how are you this evening?” the man asked.

  “Never better.”

  He took the food. “Here you go.” He pushed a ten-dollar bill in her hand.

  “Thanks.” At least she could put some gas in the minivan.

  Chapter 24

  “MAGGIE, SET the table, please.”

  “I’ll set a place for Aunty Tavey in case she comes home early from work.”

  “Good idea, sweetie. Jarrod, will you fill water glasses for everyone?”

  “Sure.” He’d been hovering near the window since he’d arrived home from school, looking anxious.

  She ruffled his red hair. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” he mumbled unconvincingly, then pulled glasses from a cabinet.

  While the kids moved around the table, she worried her lip, wondering if Jarrod was still having trouble with the boy he gotten in the fight with.

  “Both of you, go wash up. The lasagna comes out in thirty minutes.”

  They ran down the hall, with Max trailing behind.

  With no little eyeballs around to watch her, Linda gave in to the full-body ache that had set in since she’d listened to the message Sullivan’s girlfriend had left on his phone. She leaned over to grasp the counter wondering if it was possible to combust from emotional upheaval. When tears threatened, she blinked them back. She could cry later in bed when everyone else had gone to sleep.

  The doorbell chimed, interrupting her mini meltdown. She straightened and cleared her throat, swiping at her eyes before she got to the door. But Jarrod beat her there, swinging open the door. Oakley stood on the stoop, dressed in his work clothes, his tie drooping.

  “Hi, Jarrod.”

  “Hi,” Jarrod said, but seemed disappointed to see him.

  Linda’s pulse picked up. “Oakley, what a surprise.”

  His expression was guarded. “Hi, Linda. Can I talk to you?”

  “Of course.”

  He shot a look toward Jarrod, then back to her. “Maybe we could talk out here?”

  She nodded, then turned to Jarrod. “Will you keep an eye on dinner for me?”

  “Yeah.”

  She stepped outside, then closed the door and waited.

  “Sit with me?” He lowered himself to the top step.

  She joined him, wondering if Oakley knew that Sullivan had been cheating on her. It seemed likely… which made her feel like an even bigger fool. “What’s this about?”

  “I want to apologize… again.” He shook his head. “I feel like lately I always say the wrong thing to you. It was easier when Sullivan was between us. Now I don’t know where we stand.” He wet his lips. “Tell me what you need from me.”

  Linda sighed. “I need for you to support me in the decisions I make.” She gave him a wry smile. “Even when you think I’m wrong.”

  He nodded. “Fair enough. And I want to support you.” He smiled. “I want to help you prepare for the exam, if you’ll let me.”

  “I’d like that,” she said. “Do you want to stay for dinner? It’s just lasagna but there’s plenty.”

  “Raincheck,” he said. “I have to get back to work a case. By the way, your yard looks great.”

  “Doesn’t it?”

  “Who, uh, cut it for you?”

  She considered letting him think Stone had stepped in, then she smiled. “Jarrod did it.”

  “No kidding? He’s growing up fast.”

  She made a rueful noise. “Faster now.”

  Oakley stood, then extended a hand down to pull her up. She put her hand in his and when he pulled her to her feet, their faces were close. The unexpected nearness was a jolt to her senses. Their gazes locked and time stopped.

  The sound of a truck pulling to the curb broke the moment. She turned her head to see Eddie waving from a UPS truck.

  “I should go,” Oakley said. “Talk soon.”

  She didn’t trust herself to speak, just nodded.

  Oakley strode to his department-issued sedan, exchanging hellos with Eddie as they passed.

  Eddie fetched a big box from the back of the truck and carried it up the walkway.

  She waved. “Hi, Eddie. What did you bring me today?”

  “It’s not for you, Mrs. Smith. Delivery for Jarrod Smith.”

  The door burst open, and Jarrod bounded out. “I’m Jarrod Smith.”

  Eddie smiled. “Sign here.”

  Jarrod excitedly signed his name on the handheld machine.

  Eddie set the box on the stoop. “You all have a good evening.”

  Jarrod pounced on it, ripping at the tape.

  “What is it?” Maggie yelled from the doorway, jumping up and down.

  He tore away packing materials, then reached in and pulled out a gadget the size of a microwave with propellors. “It’s a drone!” he said. “I wanted to surprise you, Mom. I won the riddle contest.”

  Linda gasped. “I’m so proud of you!”

  He beamed. “It has a camera on it. I thought maybe you could use it to solve cases now that you’re a P.I.”

  Her heart expanded in her chest. “That’s a great idea, and so thoughtful of you to want to help me and your aunt like that.” She pulled him in for a hug and for once, he let her.

  She closed her eyes. The men in her life—past and present—were giving her heart an aerobic workout.

  Chapter 25

  “I THINK the drive between Lexington and Louisville is one of the prettiest in the state,” Grim said from the driver’s seat.

  Octavia stared out the window, barely registering the fields of bluegrass and the miles of rail fencing. “Uh-huh.”

  “When you get your motorcycle license, Versailles Road is a good one to practice on before you drive on an interstate.”

  “Okay.”

  “Sure is a nice day out there, going to be seventy-five degrees.”

  She turned her head. “If I’d known you were going to talk me to death I would’ve said no to the offer to drive.”

  He raised a hand. “Sorry. I’ll just sit here and be quiet like a good little errand boy.”

  Remorse struck her—the man had been helpful. She didn’t want to alienate him. “I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind. And…” She wet her lips. “If you hadn’t noticed, my life is in disarray.”

  “I noticed.”

  She shifted in her seat. “What, no worldly advice?”

  He shrugged. “Life sucks sometimes, but not all the time. If it doesn’t suck more often than it does suck, you’ve won the jackpot.”

  “Did you read that in a T-shirt shop?”

  “Embroidered pillow.”

  She relented and laughed.

  He cleared his throat. “I know being back in Louisville must be hard for you. And going back to the home you shared with Richard—that’ll stir up a lot of memories. I was just trying to distract you.”

  She frowned. “Don’t be nice to me. It won’t end well.”

  He gave her a flat smile. “Roger that.” He reached for the radio knobs. “What kind of music do you like?”

  “The kind with backup dancers.”

  He winced. “That’s not gonna happen.” He tuned the radio until blues sounded from the speakers.

  She sighed… it wasn’t terrible.

  And the noise spared her from having to converse with the man, which seemed so much harder when she wasn’t on his property riding Mercury or riding the bike. They rode the rest of the way into Louisville in mutually-agreed-upon silence. When they reached the city limits, she gave him directions to the subdivision, then talked their way past the gatehouse guard.

  “Nice,” Grim said, head on a pivot.

  “You would live here?”

  “I’d kill myself first,” he said. “But ‘nice’ sounds better.”

  She took in the sprawling mega-mansions and the lawns manicured to artificial perfection through his eyes and acknowledged a little guilty pang of materialism.

  But that lasted only until her home came into view. A sigh escaped her. It was gorgeous and she’d loved living there.

  “The gray one on the right,” she said, pointing.

  “Wow,” he said. “Only two of you lived there?”

  “Yep.”

  “Did you have a maid?”

  “Yep.” Octavia grunted. “She’s dead.”

  Grim’s head went back. “What?”

  She gave a dismissive wave. “Another story for another day.” She didn’t like to think about poor Carla, the woman she’d accused of sleeping with Richard, lying dead from a gunshot wound after a home invasion.

  After she’d given the padded evidence envelope to Octavia.

  “Back the truck into the driveway,” she said. “We can bring everything out through the garage.”

  Grim drove the big vehicle expertly, stopping a few feet from the four-car garage.

  Octavia jumped down and glanced around, alert for Emily Devonshire or another nosy neighbor. Everything was quiet, but she could feel eyes on her from behind silk curtains. She hurried up the flagstone walkway to the massive front door and used the code Frank had given her to access the lockbox. On Grim’s questioning look she sighed. “The bank changed the locks.”

  He didn’t respond, only nodded.

  She struggled with the foreign key in the new, stiff lock. Although why would she care what he thought of her—he already knew she was broke so it couldn’t be news that her home had gone into foreclosure.

  Still, it stung to admit it to a stranger.

  “Let me try,” he offered, then took the key from her. Within a few seconds, the door swung open and he stepped back. “After you.”

  She stepped into the foyer and soaked in the black, white and gold sparkling entryway that set the stage for the rest of the house. From here she could see five rooms, all of them appointed with the best custom furnishings available.

  Grim emitted a low whistle. “I think we’re gonna need a bigger truck.”

  “I have a list,” she said, pulling out her phone. “Just a few things to furnish the agency—two desks, a rug, a table, a loveseat, bookshelves, some lamps.”

  “Where’s the door to the garage? I’ll open the doors and the truck so we can get started.”

  “Through the kitchen. I’ll bring some of the smaller items to the foyer.”

  Having a list of the items she wanted to take made it easier to walk through the house with some detachment. If she were tempted to stop and sit in a particularly lovely chaise, she reminded herself it was in her best interests mentally to keep moving forward.

  That should be embroidered on a pillow, she mused. Keep moving forward.

  “Where are you?” Grim shouted.

  “Top of the stairs, in the sitting room,” she yelled back.

  A few minutes later, he found her and glanced all around the red and gold room. “So this is a sitting room, huh? A room just for sitting.”

  “Stop judging and help me with this loveseat.”

  Within an hour they had the items on her list loaded into the truck. Octavia was sweating, but Grim had done most of the heavy lifting. As he lifted the loveseat into the truck with seemingly little effort, she couldn’t help but notice how his muscles moved under his T-shirt and the colorful tattoos.

  It wasn’t repulsive.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  She checked her list. “That’s it.” She realized with a frown the two of them worked well together. It would’ve taken her and Richard three days and five helpers to do the same job.

  “What are you going to do with the rest of it?”