Deadly Intuition (Hardy Brothers Security Book 2) (2 page)

“So, let me get this straight,” Grady said. “Mandy gets sick, and now I have to do more work?”

James was sitting behind his desk in the main office of Hardy Brothers Security the next morning, dark circles under his eyes, regarding his brother with what could only be described as disdain. “It’s not like I’ve asked you to do something big.”

Grady frowned, annoyance rippling through him. “Why can’t you do it?”

“I already told you why.”

“Because Mandy’s sick?”

“Right.”

“Does Mandy usually do this for you?”

James scowled. “Just do it.”

“And if I just go to the newspaper and ask for Kristen, this woman is going to know what I need?” Grady was fighting to tamp down his irritation.

“Just tell her to run the same ad from last week,” James replied. “This isn’t rocket science.”

“I didn’t even know we ran ads,” Grady said. “That seems beneath us.”

“Do you think clients just magically find us?” James asked, rubbing his stubbly jaw wearily. “There is a little more to it than that.”

“And we run an ad every week?”

“Every week.”

Grady blew out a sigh. “Fine. I still don’t understand how this is my job.”

“Well, since I sign your paychecks and I need you to do it, I think it’s your job.”

Grady held up his hands in mock surrender. “You’re crabby. I get it.”

“I’m not crabby. I’m tired.”

“She’s still not feeling better?”

“She stopped throwing up every twenty minutes around dawn,” James said. “She still feels like she’s dying.”

“Which makes you feel like you’re dying,” Grady teased, grabbing his heart dramatically.

“Will you just do this for me?”

Grady took the file from James’ outstretched hand. “You got it.” He moved toward the office door. “Just one thing.”

“What?”

“Where is the Daily Tribune?”

GRADY
pulled up in front of the single-story building on the edge of Mount Clemens, the county seat of Macomb County where Hardy Brothers Security was located in Southeastern Michigan, and found himself less than impressed.

His entire knowledge of newspapers had been gleaned from television and movies. This didn’t look like some bustling hub of activity. In fact, it looked a little sad.

Grady killed the engine and climbed out of his truck, running a hand through his dark hair and glancing around. The only other person in the parking lot was a striking brunette in a short, black skirt with knee-high, black leather boots. Her hair was long, several inches past her shoulders, falling down her back in a mass of untidy waves. Her features were narrow, high cheekbones offsetting a plump and pronounced set of pouty lips.

Grady was immediately interested. Maybe this trip to the newspaper wouldn’t be a waste of time after all.

The woman was juggling a cup of coffee, several files, and a notebook – and the files slipped from her hand as she reached for the door handle. Grady increased his speed, dropping to his knees to help her pick up the scattered papers when he got nearer.

Up close, she was even more impressive and – for a second – Grady found himself lost in the depths of her chocolate eyes.

The woman smiled as Grady handed her the sheets of paper he’d collected. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Grady straightened up and opened the door, holding it so she could slip inside ahead of him. Her little flair skirt was causing a chemical reaction in his brain, but he managed to keep his libido in check long enough to open the second set of doors so the woman could enter the building without dropping her load.

A plump and pleasing secretary greeted them with a wide smile from behind the receptionist’s desk. “Welcome to the Daily Tribune.”

“I work here,” the woman answered, her tone dry.

“I was talking to the gentleman behind you,” the secretary replied. “There’s no need to be … rude, Sophie.”

So, her name was Sophie. It fit.

Grady ambled over to the front desk, leaning against it and fixing the receptionist with a flirtatious smile. “I’m Grady Hardy. I’m here for someone in your advertising department named Kristen.”

“Grady Hardy? As in Hardy Brothers Security?” The receptionist asked, giggling.

“That would be the one.”

“Where is James? He usually comes in.” The receptionist must have been hired because she was so bubbly, Grady realized. Either she was heavily medicated, or it was all an act.

“He has a domestic issue at home.”

“Nothing serious I hope,” the receptionist said. “I always look forward to his visits.”

The Hardy brothers were known for their charm. James had obviously used it on this woman a time or two. “He’s fine. His girlfriend is throwing up all over the place, though.”

The receptionist frowned. “He has a girlfriend?”

Grady realized his mistake. “She’s a … recent addition.”

“Not serious, though, right?”

“Probably not,” Grady lied.
What? There was no reason to wreck the woman’s fantasy.

Sophie snorted and moved to another set of glass doors at the far end of the lobby. Grady turned his attention in her direction as the receptionist scorched her with a hateful look.

“Sophie, I don’t suppose you could show Mr. Hardy the way to advertising, could you?”

Sophie tilted her head to the side. “Isn’t that
your
job, Marge?”

“I just figured, since you were going in that direction anyway, you could help out,” Marge shot back. “Aren’t we all one big, happy team here at the Daily Tribune?”

Sophie rolled her eyes, plastering a tight smile on her face as she met Grady’s curious stare. “This way, Mr. Hardy.” She opened the door with her hip, sweeping her arm out in grandiose fashion.

Grady bit the inside of his lip. He already liked Sophie’s attitude – bad as it was. “Thanks.” He winked at Marge as he moved toward the hallway and propped open the door with his hand. “After you.”

Sophie waited for Grady to clear the door and then strode down the hallway. Grady searched his brain for something to talk to her about as he tried to keep up. “This isn’t how I pictured a newspaper to look,” he said finally.

Sophie looked at him, nonplussed. “Hmm.”

“I mean, I thought it was like television.” Grady mentally chided himself.
Could I sound any lamer?

Sophie squinted her eyes. “Bummer?”

Grady fought to bury his smile. Most women were open to his attention. He had that “bad boy” thing going for him, purposely mind you, and that often served as an aphrodisiac for the opposite sex. It was always the rare woman who
wasn’t
turned on by the bad-boy thing who managed to pique Grady’s interest.

“And what do you do here?”

“I’m a reporter,” Sophie replied, clearly disinterested in small talk. “The advertising department is over there.”

Grady glanced in the direction she pointed, opening his mouth to continue the conversation. He snapped it shut, though, when he turned back to find Sophie had already disappeared into the newsroom.

Well, so much for spending a wild night with her and her sassy little mouth.
Grady moved into the room Sophie had directed him to and immediately found himself surrounded by three other women – all young and attractive – willing to help him with his business needs. Grady swallowed his mild disappointment and focused on the task at hand.

He wasn’t going to go after a woman who had no interest in him. That wasn’t in his wheelhouse.

SOPHIE
Lane was annoyed. No, she was beyond annoyed. She’d filed seven different Freedom of Information requests with the county for personnel and financial records on various departments only to find that the county clerk said she had no record of the requests.

Typical. The county big wigs were hiding something. She just knew it. Now she had to prove it.

She settled into her desk chair and logged onto the Daily Tribune’s internal system. She jumped when she heard a voice behind her.

“How did it go?”

Conrad Malcolm, her editor, was watching her with impatient eyes when she turned back around.

“The clerk claims she didn’t receive the requests,” Sophie said.

“What are you going to do?” Conrad had served as something of a mentor to her since she’d started at the newspaper right after college three years before. Sophie often worried it was because he was interested in something else, something she wasn’t even remotely interested in giving him, but he’d proven to be a decent sounding board and boundless source of information, so she always made time for him in her day.

“I refiled all of the paperwork with the clerk watching, made her stamp the files in front of me, and then asked for physical receipts,” Sophie said.

Conrad smiled. “I’m sure Sally didn’t like that.” Conrad had been around the Macomb County political scene long enough to know all the players – including Sally Barnworth, the county clerk. They were old friends.

“She didn’t,” Sophie agreed. “She knows I’m not happy, though.”

“That starts the clock all over again,” Conrad said. “They have ten days to supply the documents.”

“I know.”

“You’re going to have to try and track this stuff down through other avenues.”

Sophie’s eyes flashed irritably. “I know.”

Conrad pursed his lips. “I know you know. I was just … stating the obvious.”

Sophie blew out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated. I know I’m onto something here.”

“I think you are, too,” Conrad agreed. “You just have to be patient.”

“That’s never been one of my strong suits,” Sophie admitted.

Conrad chuckled. “Well, you’ve had a full day. Why don’t you go home, have a glass of wine, and tackle this again tomorrow.”

Sophie wanted to argue but, the truth was, she currently had no other angles to explore. She needed to think. “You’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

Sophie collected her files and got back to her feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll carve some time out in the afternoon and we can sit down and look at this,” Conrad said. “You’ll get it.”

“I will get it.” Sophie shot Conrad a grateful smile and then left the newsroom. She thought better on her own. A glass of wine and a hot bath sounded like a great way to brainstorm.

Once she made it to the front lobby again, she plastered a fake smile on her face when Marge glanced up at her. “Have a good night.”

“Where is Mr. Hardy?”

“Placing his ad, I would guess.”

“That family has quite the gene pool,” Marge said, her eyes swimming with appreciation.

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Sophie said.

“Did you even look at that man?”

Sophie shrugged. “He’s not my type.”

“How can he not be your type?”

“Because he thinks he’s everyone’s type,” Sophie replied.

“What does that mean?”

“He obviously knows he’s good looking,” Sophie said. “And, because he knows that, it makes him a little too full of himself for me.”

“Oh, please,” Marge scoffed. “If he asked you out, you know you would go.”

Sophie shook her head. She didn’t have time for dating – and she certainly didn’t have the patience for trying to date someone like Grady Hardy. She had her eye on the prize – and that prize ultimately ended at a big newspaper in New York. She wasn’t about to be distracted by anything else – even if that anything resembled a Greek god.

“He’s all yours,” Sophie replied, striding out the front door of the building.

She pointed her body in the direction of her car, gasping when she felt a hand, whipping her around to face the opposite direction, on her shoulder. “Hey!”

“If there’s anything else we can do, please let us know.”

Grady smiled at the three blonde advertising representatives who had insisted on walking him back to the lobby. They were all interested in anything he could (or would) offer – which meant, of course, he wanted to offer a whole lot of nothing. He preferred it when women put up at least a token fight.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Grady replied, never letting his smile retreat. “My brother should be back next week.”

“That’s too bad,” one of the women said.

Grady smiled, sent a small wave in Marge’s direction, and then pointed himself toward the external doors. He was starting to feel smothered by all of the overt sexual attention.

“Have a nice day,” Marge called to his back. “Tell your brother I said hi … and that I hope his girlfriend doesn’t die or anything.”

Grady didn’t slow his pace until he was outside again – and then he was faced with a whole other problem. Her name was Sophie – and she was arguing with a squat man in rumpled khaki pants on the front sidewalk.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Sophie said, backing away from the man slightly. “I don’t know who told you I was looking into that – or anything like that – but it’s simply untrue.”

“You should learn to mind your own business,” the man warned. “Stay out of mine.”

“I don’t even know who you are,” Sophie argued. “I can pretty much guarantee I’m not looking around for anything on you, or anything that involves you.”

The man extended a stubby finger, pointing it at Sophie. “I don’t believe you.”

“I really don’t care what you believe,” Sophie said, shifting so she could move around the man. “Like I said, though, I have no idea who you are. I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“Don’t play dumb with me!” He reached his hands out to touch Sophie, pulling them back at the last second.

Grady’s shoulders stiffened. He didn’t like the man’s tone, or body language. One look at Sophie’s defensive stance told him she didn’t like it either. He swallowed uncertainly.
Should I help?
She didn’t seem like the kind of woman who needed help. In fact, she seemed like the type of women who steadfastly maintained that she didn’t need help. Still … .

“I’m not playing dumb, sir,” Sophie said. “I honestly don’t know who you are, or what your … complaint stems from. If you would like to clarify your position, I would be willing to listen.”

“Clarify my position? Clarify my position?” The man shook his head. “What I want is for you to leave me alone.”

Grady took a step forward, clearing his throat. The man glanced in his direction, visibly shrinking in the face of Grady’s six-foot-tall, heavily built frame. “Can I help you with something?”

“Who are you?” The man narrowed his eyes, taking a defensive posture with his hands on his hips.

“No one of consequence,” Grady replied. “I just want to make sure everything here is okay.”

“No one asked for your help,” the man sneered.

Grady ignored him, focusing on Sophie. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

Grady kept his gaze trained on her for a second, ultimately shrugging and then moving away. “If you say so.”

“She does,” the man said.

Grady stepped toward his truck, keeping his ears peeled for sounds of distress. His pace was slow, plodding. There was something about this whole situation he didn’t like.

“I really need to be going, sir,” Sophie said, keeping her tone respectful. “My work day is over. If you want to make an appointment, you can schedule one sometime later in the week with the receptionist inside.”

The man didn’t look thrilled with the suggestion. “What do you have in those files?”

Sophie clutched the paperwork to her chest. “It’s just some work stuff.”

“Then let me see.”

“No.”

“Let me see!” The man reached for the files, causing Sophie to take a jerky step back and lose her balance when the heel of her boot got caught in the adjacent mulch.

Grady was moving before he even realized what was happening. He caught Sophie while she was still teetering, bumping the other man out of the way with his body as he stabilized her balance. Her hand landed on his chest, warm and firm, and she settled in next to him briefly before pulling away.

Grady fixed the man with a hard and pointed glare. “I think you should go.”

“I think you should mind your own business,” he shot back.

“That’s not really an option,” Grady said. “If you have a personal beef with this woman, take it up through the appropriate channels.”

“Maybe I am,” the man challenged.

“The appropriate channels do not include accosting her outside of her place of business and trying to intimidate her,” Grady said. “That makes you look like a crazy stalker.”

“What business is this of yours?”

“It’s not,” Grady said, his tone ominous. “Yet.”

The man looked like he wanted to argue, push his luck, but Grady’s squared shoulders and defiant glare were enough to dissuade him. He shot an angry look in Sophie’s direction. “You remember what I told you.”

Sophie watched him go, jotting down something in her notebook as he pulled away from the curb in an older Ford Escort. Grady was curious what she was writing but – wisely – kept the question to himself.

Once the man was gone, Grady looked Sophie up and down. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Sophie said, brushing her brown hair out of her face. “It was nothing.”

Grady waited for some form of acknowledgement for his actions. None came. “Um, you’re welcome.”

Sophie scowled. “For what?”

“For stepping in to make sure that jerk didn’t hurt you.” The attitude he found so funny and appealing a half hour before was starting to grate.

“No one asked you to step in,” Sophie said. “If you need some accolades to puff up your ego, though, I guess you’ve earned them.
Thank you
.”

My ego? Is she serious?
Grady frowned. “Wow, you’ve got a great personality, lady,” he said. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that I stepped in to help … .”

“What? A damsel in distress?” Sophie interrupted. “I’m not a damsel in distress. I could’ve handled this situation fine on my own. I didn’t need you.”

“Who said you needed me?” Grady asked, playing to his invisible audience as his voice climbed an octave. “Did I say you needed me? No. I stepped up in case he got out of hand. I didn’t realize that was a criminal offense.”

Sophie sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I didn’t mean to. I just … I just don’t need help. He was harmless.”

“He didn’t seem harmless,” Grady argued. “He seemed deranged.”

“He was upset about something.”

“What?”

Sophie shrugged. “He didn’t really say,” she said. “I just assumed he had me confused with somebody else.”

Grady cocked his head to the side. “What are you working on?”

“Just some county government stuff,” Sophie said, refusing to go into detail. “Nothing that a guy like that would care about.”

“How do you know what a guy like that cares about?”

“Did he look like a county executive to you?”

Grady was taken aback. “No, but … .”

“But nothing,” Sophie said, her voice growing stronger. “That guy obviously has nothing to do with what I’m working on. It was just a case of mistaken identity. It’s no big deal. It happens all the time in this business.”

“And I’m sure your attitude helps the situation,” Grady suggested, trying to keep his anger from getting the better of him.

Sophie made a face. “Are you calling out my attitude?
Seriously?
What about your attitude?”

Grady’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “My attitude? You mean the attitude where I walked into a situation and made sure you were safe? Yeah, I should be publicly flogged on the street.”

Sophie wrinkled her nose. “I thanked you. What more do you want?”

“Nothing,” Grady said, turning on his heel and stalking toward his truck. “There’s not a thing I want from you. Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, great.”

“Good.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Grady climbed in his truck, firing up the engine and squealing out of his parking space as his foot expressed the anger he’d been trying to keep away from her.

That woman is infuriating, he thought as he was pulling into traffic on the main street in front of the newspaper. It’s no wonder random people are attacking her. He was just surprised it didn’t happen on a daily basis.

Well, no matter. He’d done James’ errand, and he wouldn’t be returning to this place anytime soon, or ever.

Screw her!