If You See Her (19 page)

“Hope.”

A hand touched her shoulder and she jerked her gaze up, met Law’s. He was smiling down at her. “Somehow, I get the feeling you know how it felt when I saw Remy with Lena, huh?”

“What?”

He lifted a brow.

She rubbed her belly again, realized it hurt.

Envy. It curled through her, tightening in hot, almost painful knots. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she mumbled, wrapping her arms around her middle and hoping it would help the ache there. But it didn’t.

He watched her with knowing eyes and just shrugged. “Okay. If you say so. But anyway … Remy knew I had a thing for her. It wasn’t like she ever noticed—she’s
still
clueless about it. He knew—and guys, well, we’re possessive like that. He didn’t like me having a thing for her, and since Lena and I were close, it made it rough on him.”

“Does he still like her?”

He just stared at her.

Hope just stared at the floor.

“I’m nothing like her,” she whispered. “She’s … amazing. Shit, Law, she’s so confident, and easy. It’s like it doesn’t matter what life hands her, she just deals with it. And me … I’m terrified of
everything
. How could he possibly be attracted to
me
if she’s the kind of woman he’s looking for?”

Law curved a hand around her neck and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Honey, you’re overthinking this. And he had a thing with her more than a year ago, but it’s over. He came here looking for
you
 … and no, you’re nothing like Lena. You’re you. And apparently that’s something that appeals to him, otherwise he wouldn’t have been here.”

Still feeling restless, Hope hugged him back and then moved away, pacing the kitchen. “Why was he here?”

“Isn’t it obvious? He was here to see you.”

Shooting him a look from the corner of her eye, she snorted. “Don’t give me that.”

“Shit, Hope, when have I ever lied to you?” Law
grabbed her glass from the counter and took a drink, only to screw up his face. “Peach. Ugh.”

He got a glass down and poured some tea from the gallon jug in the fridge. “Listen, he came here looking for you. Well, that and he wanted to make sure we didn’t have a thing going.”

“A thing?” Hope frowned at him and picked up the glass of tea sitting on the counter. It wasn’t until she’d taken a sip of it that she realized it wasn’t her glass, but the one she’d poured for Remy.

Okay, this was sophomoric but as she lowered the glass, she found herself licking her lips, wondering if it was her imagination that she could taste him.

Deliberately, she set the glass down and looked up at Law. “What, like me working for you?”

Law, in the middle of taking a swig from his glass, choked. As he turned red in the face, he grabbed a towel and wiped the amber liquid from his face. Once he’d blotted himself dry, he looked at her and said, “No, Hope. A
thing
 … as in you and me. Together. Get it?”

She gaped at him.

“You and me? He was out here asking about you and
me
?”

Law laughed and threw the towel on the counter. “Yeah, Hope. He was out here asking if you and me had a thing going.
That
sort of thing.” He shrugged and took another drink from the tea, actually managing to swallow it this time. “You’ve been staying out here for a few weeks and it’s not like I’m known for having a lot of visitors. I guess he wanted to be sure before he did anything.”

“Like what?” she asked warily.

“Like kiss you in my kitchen …?” Law laughed at the look on her face. “Relax, Hope. It’s not like you have to
do
anything. He’s interested. And I can tell you are, but that doesn’t mean you have to do anything.
He’ll ask you out, probably soon if I know him. You’ve got time to decide what you want to do.”

“But I don’t know what I want.” Her hands were sweating, she realized.

Sweating. Swiping them down the front of her jeans, she muttered, “This is stupid, and it’s probably nothing but crap anyway. That man is
not
interested in me. He’s not.”

Then she grabbed her tea
—her
tea this time, not Remy’s—and settled down in front of the box at the island. “You’re paying me to be an assistant—I should probably get to work on that instead of talking about this. So why don’t you go kill somebody?”

After he’d left the kitchen, Hope dropped her head into her hands and told herself not to get worked up, not to think about it.

Remy might have kissed her, and maybe he was a little attracted. She wasn’t ugly—she might have self-esteem issues, mental stability issues, and a lot of other issues, but she knew she wasn’t ugly, and guys did put a lot of stock in looks.

But that didn’t mean he was looking to ask her out … or anything else.

Law didn’t know what he was talking about. Yeah, he usually did.

But not this time.

Not this time.

“Y
OU GOT ANY IDEA HOW BAD A MESS YOU HANDED
me, Jennings?”

Remy managed not to wince as Beulah Simmons’s voice echoed through his office, but just barely.

Her voice was … big—like her personality.

Beulah, by comparison, was tiny. The other district attorney barely stood four foot eleven and she made up for that fact by wearing heels that added a good four inches to her height. She also had the sort of attitude that dwarfed those around her. Her skin was the color of polished mahogany, her hair cut in a close, cropped style that very, very few women could carry.

Once upon a time, Remy had entertained a fantasy about this woman. Briefly. Very briefly. Then he realized that she mostly terrified him too much—and she could run circles around him.

She was fifty-two years old and her current lover was in his thirties.

Today she wore a suit the color of peaches. Her mouth was drawn in a tight, unhappy smile and she had arms folded over her impressive chest. One nail, painted almost the same shade of peach as her suit, tapped impatiently
against her arm as she stared at him from the doorway and waited for an answer.

Remy was still trying to figure
how
to answer.

“Good morning, Beulah,” he said, flashing a smile at her.

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you
good morning, Beulah
me, Remy. I’m tempted to tan your hide.”

“Oh, come on, Beulah. I thought you’d be all but drooling to get your hands on a case like this,” he said, leaning back from his desk, still smiling.

“Case?”
She reached up and rubbed her ear. “
Case?
As in
one
? Sure. If you had just turned over the homicide of Deputy Prather. Or the murdered girl, although you better be aware, I plan on looking at the homeowner a hell of a lot closer than you obviously did. But this isn’t a
case
, Remy, and you know it. This is a fucking mess and you dumped it on me without any warning.” She scowled and heaved out a heavy sigh. “At all.”

“Beulah …”

She just shook her head and came inside. Her heels, the same shade of peach as her suit, as her nails, clicked smartly on the floor. She lingered only long enough to shut the door behind her and then she settled into a chair in front of Remy’s desk. Her eyes, sharp as a blade, narrowed on his face. “ ’Fess up, Remy. What’s going on? Why did you go and dump this on me?”

“I didn’t have much choice,” he said quietly. He might have danced around it if it had been anybody other than Beulah, but she knew him, a little too well.

One slim black brow arched.

“Oh?” That was all she said. But there was an entire conversation, all of it unsaid, in that dark gaze. She crossed one leg over the other and propped one elbow on the arm of her chair and rested her chin in her hand.

Then she waited.

Remy looked away, unable to hold her gaze as he
tried to figure out how to explain this—how did he say he had turned this over because he was too tangled up with one of the victims? A woman who didn’t seem to want to even breathe the same air as he did?

Shit, it didn’t
matter
, in the end, what she felt, though. He was too tangled up in her and it left him useless.

Hearing the familiar rustle of pages, he glanced up and saw that Beulah had drawn a fat file out of her briefcase. “So,” she murmured, pursing her lips. “What is it?”

She lifted a sheet of paper and then leaned forward, laid the report aside on the desk. “It’s not him,” she said dismissively. “Although I still don’t know why you didn’t look into him further.”

Remy lowered his gaze long enough to see the report on Law. “He was out of town.”

“Confirmed?”

“Yes. At a funeral attended by hundreds.” He cocked a brow and added, “That’s in the report.”

“Hmmm. Still, we need to look more at him.”

“No. Not
we
. I’m off this case, Beulah. I have to be.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She curled her lip again, flipped another sheet of paper.

This one was an autopsy—Prather’s.

“It’s not that one.” Sympathy lingered in her face as she looked up at him. “I didn’t like the man. He was an old-fashioned bastard, and very often, a mean one. Mean as a snake, if you get my drift. But still, he was bled like a stuck pig—suffered a lot. Died slow, and painfully. He didn’t deserve that.”

“No,” Remy agreed.

“Hmmm.” Beulah turned a few more pages and then stopped.

Remy felt the slow crawl of blood rise up his neck. Even before the woman looked at him.

“Well, well.” Beulah flicked a glance at him. “I’ve got to say, Jennings, I’m surprised here.”

“About what?” he asked, his voice stiff.

“She’s cute. But I didn’t think I’d ever see the day when you turned over a case because of a woman,” Beulah said, clicking her tongue. “What did she do, flutter those pretty green eyes at you or what?”

Remy snorted. “Shit, I wish,” he muttered before he could bite the answer back.

Beulah lifted her brows and then smirked. “Ahhhh. I see. What’s the matter, lover boy? You finally find a girl who hasn’t fallen under that spell of yours?”

“Shut up, Beulah.”

She started to laugh. “Holy shit. That’s it. Although, damn it, boy, backing down from a case over a woman?”

Scowling, trying not to squirm, he said, “It’s not that.” He sighed and looked away, staring out the window.

From where he sat, he could see the municipal building where the sheriff shared offices with the small city police department, as well as a few other city and county government offices.

“It’s not that … or it’s not
just
that. I’m too fucking close to this, Beulah. Way too close, somehow. And not just because she fluttered her lashes, not that she ever has.”

“Wait, you mean she’s
not
fluttering her lashes at you?” Beulah asked. She started to chuckle. “She’s
not
falling for that smile of yours?”

He rubbed his hands up and down his face and sighed. “There was an event at Lena Riddle’s home a few weeks, maybe a couple of months ago. That’s when unusual stuff started. I used to date Lena. Then this mess with Law, and while I’m not close friends with Law, I can’t deny that I’m attracted to the woman who currently lives in his household. It’s just a mess right now.”

“A mess?” She snorted. “You think a
mess
is descriptive
enough? And have you considered talking to a shrink? Are you
sure
this girl isn’t involved?”

Remy shot her a withering look. “I’m not an idiot, Beulah.”

“No. You’re a man, and you’re thinking with your dick. What about all the information you got from her ex?”

Remy curled his lip. “All that information was false, deliberately given in such a way to make her look mentally unbalanced—her ex is a cop, and he used to beat her. And that’s not something
she
told me. I got that information from another source—a trusted one.”

“Oh.” Beulah’s face softened with sympathy. “Oh, my. Damn, Remy. You sure as hell know how to pick a complicated mess, don’t you?”

He snorted.

“But …”

He looked at her.

She lifted a finger. “But … what if your source isn’t entirely wrong, and what if the ex isn’t either? After all, an abused woman is going to have a lot of issues. You and me? We both know that. Shit, more than likely she is
going
to have a lot of issues. You really want to risk getting involved with somebody with that sort of history?”

“Nobody said we were getting involved,” Remy muttered.

“Kid, I see that hook in your mouth from a hundred feet away.” Beulah stood up, smoothing down the impeccable peach suit she wore. “You’re involved, even if she isn’t. Whether you want to admit it or not, whether you like it or not. And that could get pretty damn ugly, if you ask me. So again … are you sure this is what you want?”

He was silent. Then finally, meeting her eyes, he jerked a shoulder in a shrug. “Well, as you said, I’m involved.
Whether I like it or not. It would seem I don’t have much choice in the matter, huh?”

Beulah studied him for a long, quiet moment and then she just sighed and shook her head. “You really did land yourself in it this time. And she’s not falling for that legendary charm of yours, either, so you’ve really got your work cut out for you, huh?”

With that, she turned and grabbed her briefcase. Her heels rapped sharply on the wooden floor as she headed to the door. “Good luck, Remy. And I still think you ought to consider getting your head examined. In the worst way.”

Then she winked at him over her shoulder. “That’s the lawyer speaking. The woman is curious about meeting this lady. Once this mess is over.”

After she left, Remy closed his eyes and rubbed his stiff neck. Mess.

This wasn’t a
mess
.

It was a fucking nightmare.

Hunger gurgled in her belly as Hope left the post office. She’d mailed off another box full of books and envelopes for Law. She still had to hit the grocery store before heading back to his place, but as she headed for her car, she slowed down by the café.

Something smelled good—really good.