Reunited With The P.i.. Anna J. Stewart

The more people they had looking for Mara, the better. “At least give me until Monday before you concede. You know me. If I say I’m going to do something, I do it.”

      Vince was an exceptional investigator. Sure, he’d had some bad luck and she could understand his reticence about opening closed doors, but this could end up being good for him. He needed to come to terms with what had happened with the Walker case.

      Her boss’s silence pressed in on her. She counted off the seconds, half expecting to be updating her résumé before the end of the day. “Are you still there?” she asked the DA.

      “You really think you can find her?”

      “I do.” Simone bit her tongue to avoid admitting out loud to having a secret weapon. “If you genuinely believe the case is already lost, Ward, there’s no more damage I can do, right?”

      “There’s always more damage that can be done.” He sighed. “But, okay. However, I’m only giving you until Monday to make some progress. Cal’ll be unhappy about this. He’s already pushing me to settle this Denton business now on your behalf.”

      Simone’s stomach clenched. Cal Hobard again. “I don’t get this obsession he has with my case.” She couldn’t repress the concern any longer. In fact, she should press for more information about Ward’s newest employee. “He has no vested interest in Denton, right? Besides, I thought he worked for you.”

      “I have to let him have a say in some things, especially where public perception is concerned.”

      So Ward had definitely decided to run for AG, which put Hobard in charge of damage control if this case spiraled out of control. Was that what he’d been doing at the police station with Russo and his partner when they were being questioned? Protecting his candidate? Or was there more to it? “I appreciate the extra time. I’ll see you on Monday.”

      “First thing, Simone. Don’t make me hunt you down. I’ll get that warrant issued before I turn in for the night. Should be processed by the time you get up. As if you’re going to sleep.”

      Truer words were never spoken. “Thank you.” She turned off her phone and dumped it into her bag.

      When she ran her hands through her hair, she felt shaky. When she’d gotten out of bed this morning, she’d had little to worry about other than her usual before-court butterflies.

      That she’d ended the day sitting across from her ex-military ex-husband was something she couldn’t have fathomed if it had been written by a bestselling novelist.

      Vince. Simone groaned.

      Why couldn’t he have acquired a beer gut, grown a Santa beard or at the very least developed an attitude worthy of a hermit who’d been done wrong by his woman? Because he was Vince.

      Six feet and more of solid muscle with arms she’d bet could wrap around the world as easily as they’d wrapped around her. A face that was a cross between chiseled perfection and stony acceptance. Vince had taken the buzz cut to the extreme, his barely there hair making her fingers itch to explore. That he hadn’t shaved in what she guessed was almost a week should have put her off, but instead the stubble boosted her estrogen levels. He could still melt her with that steely, blue-eyed stare of his. She’d never met someone who could read her so easily, someone she couldn’t hide from. That had been intoxicating and more than a bit scary. Whatever mask she attempted to don, whatever attitude she cloaked her insecurities in, it always fell away around him.

      It also didn’t hurt that he could turn her on as easily as one struck a match. Their first kiss was the best she’d ever had. Their second? She blew out a long breath. Until Vince, every minute of her life had been meticulously scheduled, keeping her on the road she’d sworn to walk twenty years before. Until Vince, she’d never considered another path. She should have known the one impulsive move she’d made in her life—marrying him in less than three months of meeting him—would end in disaster.

      What unsettled her more than anything, however, was the fact that now that she’d seen him again, she realized how much she’d missed him.

      She murmured her thanks to Travis as he delivered an oversize mug of steaming coffee. She’d always thought Vince owning a bar was a bit of a pipe dream, one of those “maybe someday” goals that she’d encouraged. Sure that was when he was thriving as an investigator and turning away clients by the carload. Part of her had expected a run-down hole in the wall, not this polished, welcoming pub that she’d bet did exceedingly well during sports seasons.

      Located in downtown Sacramento, and close enough to the new arena and entertainment complex to ensure a steady customer base, this place appeared to have given Vince everything he’d ever wanted. At thirty-five, and after having served in Afghanistan, he’d been out of the military a good six years. No doubt he still valued the Corps, given the name of the bar. He’d be smart to turn away from this mess she’d brought him. Their marriage might have gone down in flames, but aside from Allie and Eden, and perhaps Cole Delaney and Jack McTavish, there wasn’t anyone else she could trust. Vince had not only refused any spousal support when they’d separated, he’d walked out of their marriage with the same military duffel bag he’d arrived with.

      Simone squeezed her eyes shut and leaned her chin on her hand. What was she doing here? Asking for his help and taking a dangerous stroll down memory lane? She inhaled the aroma of frying burgers, hot oil fries, fresh brewed beer and...she sniffed and opened her eyes as Vince deposited a large plate in front of her. “You made me a steak?”

      “I was fresh out of lawn.”

      Despite the joke, he barely cracked a smile. What she wouldn’t give to hear that laugh of his. That unexpected and infrequent burst of humor never failed to lighten her heart. “You sound like Allie.” Her stomach growled as she unwound the napkin-wrapped fork and knife. He’d acquiesced to her vegetable preference by loading half her plate with steamed broccoli. Memory like a steel trap, that’s for sure. If only they could both forget certain personal things as easily. “I wasn’t complaining. It looks great.”

      “Don’t tell me you’ve ditched that menu app that tells you when you can have your one-red-meat-a-month meal?”

      “I kicked it up to two a month,” she said, smiling. The baked potato swimming in butter could very well throw her into a carb panic, but it would be worth every glorious calorie.

      He set his own steak dinner on the table—sans broccoli—and reclaimed his seat. “I did consider throwing it all in a blender so you could drink it.”

      “That would have been a crime.” She cut off and stuck a rather large piece of fillet in her mouth. “Thank you.” When she looked at him, she found him watching her, tight gaze on her mouth. Out of nerves—or maybe to test the waters—she licked her lips and tasted tiny droplets of butter.

      “Don’t, Simone.”

      She swallowed and wished she had another glass of wine. “Don’t what?”

      “You know what. You’ve always made me as hot and ready as a teenager. Trust me when I say nothing has changed.”

      She bit back a gasp when his leg brushed against hers.

      “And you should know, turnabout is fair play. Thanks to that skirt you’re wearing, I bet it wouldn’t take much to find that spot on the back of your knee—”

      “Sex isn’t part of the deal.” She grabbed her coffee, drank down enough to scald her throat. The last thing she needed in her life right now was Vince Sutton in her bed.

      Vince grinned, displaying that stunning smile she’d first seen from across a ballroom at a charity event for the military one Fourth of July. The memory of him in his dress uniform and that granite-strong jaw of his, how his lips quirked and stretched into a promise of so much more than she’d ever expected came back to her. Even the medals on his chest hadn’t distracted her that night. Or the next night. Or the next.

      “Then you’d best stop looking at me like that,” he