“What about CBG Industries? Ever heard of it, or do you ever remember Benedict mentioning it?”
“No. It’s not familiar at all.”
“Do you know anyone in LA?”
“A few acquaintances. No one special.”
Glancing down at the phone, he said, “Davies, I want you to get me everything you can on this CBG Industries. I want to know what they do and when they do it.”
“Hold on,” Davies announced. “The trace is running again. Okay, I’ve got a home address is Palm Desert, California. Looks like the owner of that number worked for CBG Industries until about eight months ago.”
Bingo.
“What’s the name?” Hunt asked.
“Graham Foster.”
Hunt jotted the name and address on a piece of paper as Davies read it off. When he was done, he looked back up at Kelsey. “Does that name ring a bell?”
Her brow was drawn and wrinkled, her eyes confused but just as focused and intense as they’d been since she’d stepped into his office and shown him that text. “No. I’ve never heard it before.”
Hunt glanced at the receiver on his desk. “Davies? I want you to run a background on this guy for me. I want to know everything about him, where he works now, what he does for fun, who he knows, what he ate for breakfast. And I want it all within the hour.”
Davies sighed. “That it? Yeah, no problem.”
Pushing to his feet, Hunt glanced at his watch, “Call me on my cell with whatever you can find. If I don’t answer it means I’m out of range. Leave me a message.”
“Will do. You going down there?”
“Yeah.” He reached for the phone. “I want to surprise this guy before he realizes we’re even on to him.”
Davies clucked his tongue. “Okay, don’t do anything stupid.”
“I won’t. Have Monica book me on a flight in three hours. Then call Branaugh and have him meet me at the office. I need him to come back here with Kelsey.”
“Done,” Davies said.
Plan in place, Hunt clicked “End” on the cordless phone, set it back in its cradle, and moved for the door.
“You’re going to California?” Kelsey asked at his back.
“Yeah.” He jogged up the stairs to the main level of the house and headed for the master bedroom while Kelsey followed. “I’m sorry to drag you back to Portland, but it’ll be safer for you to go with me to my place then come back here again with Branaugh. I don’t want you here alone, just in case. Branaugh’s a good guy. He’s worked for me for three years. There’s no one you’d be safer with than me.”
She stopped in the doorway to his bedroom and crossed her arms over her chest while he tugged a duffel from the closet and started throwing clothes inside. “I’m not coming back here with someone else.”
“Don’t be stupid, Kelsey. You’re safer here than in Portland.”
“I’m not being stupid. I’m being smart. I don’t know this Branaugh guy, and I certainly didn’t agree to let him watch over me. I agreed to let you do that. So if you’re going to California, then so am I.”
He stopped what he was doing and glanced over the bed toward her. “That’s a bad idea.”
“Why? Because it’s not your idea? News flash, O’Donnell. I make my own decisions.”
He stared at her. Blinked. Knew he needed to tell her no way in hell but couldn’t force the words past his lips. He didn’t want her anywhere near the guy. But more than that, he didn’t want to be anywhere near her right now because his reactions to her were out of control and bordering on obsessive.
What was it about her that was making him so crazy? When he’d walked in on her in his kitchen earlier, looking sleepy and sexy and delightfully rumpled, all he’d wanted to do was kiss her. When she’d brought him her phone minutes ago and he’d seen the terror in her eyes from that text message, he’d wanted blood from whoever had sent it. And watching the strength and defiance grow in her features right now as she challenged him head-on made him absolutely ache to grab her and claim her and never let go.
“I really don’t think that’s a good idea, Kels—”
“I’m going with you, Hunter. Don’t even try to tell me otherwise.” She dropped her arms and turned for her room. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
The air whooshed out of his lungs as soon as she was gone, and he braced his hands on the mattress, wondering what the hell he’d just agreed to. Or hadn’t agreed to. Or, fuck, been too damn stupid to stop.
“Way to go, dumbass,” he muttered, straightening and tossing clothes in his bag with more force than necessary. “You better start thinking with your head instead of your dick so you don’t fuck this up again.”
And he would. Because he did not form attachments. He was not going to form an attachment to Kelsey McClane, dammit. He was going to focus on his job, make sure nothing happened to her, and solve this damn case. In that order.
He had to, because it was the only way he was going to get the hell away from her before it was too late.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hunt’s plan was already backfiring. Ten minutes in the air, and Hunt knew agreeing to let Kelsey accompany him on this quick trip to California had “bad news” written all over it.
She hadn’t done anything wrong, she hadn’t said anything wrong. He just didn’t like how close she was in the cramped cabin of the small plane. And he definitely didn’t like that citrusy scent he kept picking up every time she moved. The one that left him light-headed and completely distracted him from the reason he was on this damn plane in the first place.
Since the flight had been last-minute, they’d been stuck with whatever seats they could get—two in the back of coach. He’d spent most of the two-hour flight reading e-mails and writing replies on his phone, doing anything he could to keep his hands and mind occupied so it wouldn’t wander to the woman flipping through a magazine at his side. But he knew he’d failed miserably when he had to retype an e-mail to Alec for the fifth time, explaining where the hell he was taking his friend’s little sister.
“What if your family gets home while you’re gone?” Hunt asked, sending the last e-mail to his outbox as they started their descent into Palm Springs.
“Then they get home before me.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said with a frown. “What are you going to tell them if they get back before us?”
“The same thing I always do when it comes to them,” she answered absently, flipping a page in her magazine without looking his way. “Whatever the hell I want.”
She’d been full of sass ever since he’d tried to talk to her in her loft after the nightmare with Benedict. He was sure some of that snarky attitude was spurred on by anger she was still feeling toward him because of Gen. But another part of him wondered if this was all a mask. If pulling out the tough-girl Kelsey image he often saw her use with her brothers was her way of proving to him she was strong and resilient and didn’t need anyone all because he’d witnessed her at one of her most vulnerable moments.
His frustration with her waned as he looked at her sitting next to him in her designer white slacks and trendy blue blouse, her blonde hair falling straight and sleek around her face as she continued to flip through her magazine. He already knew she was strong and resilient. Anyone who’d lived through what she had, not just in her childhood but with Benedict, couldn’t have come out sane on the other side if they weren’t resilient as hell. Why did she feel like she had to prove that to people? Why couldn’t she just relax and be herself?
She’d been herself with him in the rubble, he realized, thinking back to their conversations in the dark. She hadn’t hidden her fear then, hadn’t pretended to be hard as steel as she was doing now. Even when she’d come to him later that night in his bedroom, when he’d opened his eyes to see her standing in the doorway, and he’d realized she hadn’t wanted to be alone, she’d been herself. Nervous, yeah, but soft around the edges and without all the barriers she had up now, willing to let him see a
glimpse of the sweet and special woman she was inside.
He liked that woman. Liked her a lot. And every time he thought about that woman, he couldn’t help but remember the way she’d felt pressed against him—warm and curvy and perfect—and just how hot it had been when she’d pressed her lips to his and kissed him.
She glanced sideways at him, her brow dropping. “What?”
“What do you mean, what?”
“You have a weird look on your face. Are you feeling all right, Hunter? You’re not about to get sick, are you? Should I call for a barf bag? I might have agreed to this little trip, but I did not agree to play nursemaid.”
He frowned again because her snark was back stronger than ever. Looking toward the seatback in front of him, he gripped his phone and told himself that was a good thing. It would keep him from doing something stupid while they were on this trip. It would definitely keep him from kissing her again.
Except, now all he could think about was how he could coax the real her out from beneath all that armor. And if he succeeded in doing that, then all guarantees meant nothing, because there was no way he could resist the real Kelsey McClane if she decided to show herself.
As they unloaded from the plane, made their way through the airport to grab their bags, and rented a car, Kelsey didn’t miss the fact Hunt did just about anything to keep from looking at her.
She wasn’t sure what to make of that. Was he upset by the joke she’d made on the plane? Angry she’d tagged along on this trip? Frustrated she wouldn’t sit back at his beach house and wait as he’d told her to do? She didn’t think any of those things could be causing his mood, but she couldn’t be sure. Hunter O’Donnell was still a mystery to her. One she told herself not to try to figure out, but which her brain couldn’t seem to ignore.
Questions spun through her mind as he climbed into the driver’s seat beside her, typed in the address on the GPS, and clicked his seatbelt. “I’m going to drop you at the hotel first so you ca—”
“No dropping me anywhere,” she said, realizing he was trying to brush her aside already. Just like her brothers. Just like Julian. “We came down here to surprise Foster. We’re going out to his place first. We’ll check into the hotel later.”
Hunt frowned as he slid on his sunglasses but was careful not to meet her gaze as he glanced over his shoulder and backed out of the space. “I really don’t think that’s a good ide—”
“I don’t care if you think it’s a good idea or not. I’m the client. I get what I want.”
He glanced sideways at her. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his sleek Ray-Bans, but the clench to his jaw told her loud and clear he wasn’t happy. Too bad. She wasn’t particularly happy at the moment either.
“I’m not your enemy, Kelsey. I’m here to help you.” Glancing back toward the windshield, he maneuvered the vehicle out of the parking structure. “Sometimes it’s okay to let people help you, you know. It’s even okay to ask for help.”
His comment made her spine stiffen. She knew that. Why was he telling her that? She didn’t need a lecture from him.
She crossed her arms over her chest as they left the parking structure, refusing to answer that comment. Late-afternoon sunshine shone through the windows. Desert mountains rose around the Coachella Valley, and palm trees lined the streets. Kelsey loved the green of Oregon, but she could see how appealing the warmth of the desert could be. It was beautiful with its vibrant colors and jagged peaks. Beautiful and calming in a way she hadn’t expected.
Her gaze strayed to Hunt beside her as they left the city, and a twinge of guilt passed through her for the way she’d been treating him. Was that what was eating at him? Her bitchy attitude? She had been pretty hard on him lately. But he’d hurt her with that whole girlfriend thing. She had every right to be upset about that. Any woman would be.
Except he’d said the woman wasn’t his girlfriend. And you even admitted to yourself he might have been telling the truth.
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and looked out the passenger window at the tumbleweed blowing by. She didn’t like being a bitch. It didn’t make her feel good. But she liked being taken advantage of even less. There was only one way to find out the truth.
She focused on a mountaintop far in the distance. “So your girlfriend the other morning—”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“So you said. But she called herself your girlfriend when you were in the lobby with her, and you didn’t correct her.”
From the corner of her vision, she saw the way he tensed. But he didn’t turn to look at her, and she made more than sure she didn’t look at him either. Was afraid if she did she wouldn’t be able to get through his conversation.
“Gen is not my girlfriend,” he said calmly.
“Then what is she?”
“Nothing. Nothing more than a fling. She’s a flight attendant. We met on a trip and hooked up a few times. That’s it.”
“That’s it?” Kelsey didn’t buy that. She’d seen the woman. She’d been busty and built and had “sure thing” written all over her.
“Yes, that’s it. I’m not dating her. Last time I saw her was three months ago. We weren’t serious.”
“Not serious? And she just conveniently shows up at your apartment at four in the morning?”
“I told her not to come down. I broke things off with her. Neither of us has ever been serious about the other. She dated lots of guys besides me.”
“When?”
“When what?”
“When did you break things off with her?”
He shifted in his seat and gripped the wheel tighter. But he still didn’t look at her, and the tick in his jaw answered her question long before he did. “When she called to check on me.”
“After the bombing,” she guessed. “When I was at your apartment.”
When he didn’t respond, another wave of stupidity washed over her. She focused on a fence post, calling herself a complete moron for even entertaining the idea—again—that he was different. “I see.”
The vehicle slowed, and Hunt pulled to the side of the road. Shoving the car into “Park,” he turned to look at her. And even though she could tell from his expression that he was ticked, she still didn’t look at him. Couldn’t, because it just made her feel more stupid.
“Look,” he said in a way that told her he was working to stay calm, “I didn’t plan what happened between you and me. And I didn’t officially break things off with Gen earlier that night in the hopes something would happen between us. If you remember, you’re the one who came to my room. Not the other way around.”
Her face heated with both embarrassment and mortification. She tightened her arms across her chest. “I remember. And you don’t have to bring that up now. Can we just go, please?”
“No, we can’t.” He tugged off his sunglasses and pinned her with very focused, very serious brown eyes. “I know you’re mad at me, but I didn’t set out to hurt you. Yes, Gen called me earlier in the evening and said she wanted to come down. I told her no, not because of you, but because I wasn’t interested. And I broke things off with her over the phone because I realized I’d let things drag on way too long, even if it was nothing more than a casual fling. She didn’t listen, obviously, but that doesn’t change the facts. She was not who I wanted to be with that night. You were. And not because I was trying to score or get lucky or take advantage of you, but because I really like spending time with you. When you’re not ready to bite my head off, you’re sweet and compassionate and real. Qualities I don’t see a whole lot of in my job. And when you actually drop your guard and let me see the real you for five damn minutes, you make me absolutely cr—”
The abrupt end to his rant brought her head around. Her stomach tightened as she stared at him in his white button-down rolled up to his elbows, loose khaki pants, and casual boots, wondering why he’d stopped. Wondering even more what he’d been about to say. “It makes you what?” she asked before she co
uld stop herself.
“Nothing.” He shoved his sunglasses on and quickly shifted into “Drive,” pulling back onto the highway with a sputter of gravel. “Forget I even said anything.”
Silence filled the car. A silence she should have been thankful for. Only she wasn’t. Because in the silence, everything he’d just said was suddenly swirling in her brain, mixing with what she’d seen in his eyes just before he’d looked away.
Honesty. She’d seen absolute honesty in those deep-brown irises. He liked her. He really liked her. Maybe not the bitchy her, but the real her. The one she didn’t let many people get close to. But on the heels of that honesty, she’d also seen fear. A great big giant dose of it that had caused him to pull way back before he’d said something he might later regret.
Her pulse picked up speed. Her skin grew hot. Knowing he was scared—of her—set off a weird tremor deep inside her. One she didn’t understand or particularly like. One that made her rethink everything she’d said to him over the last day—the last few days that had brought them to this point.
“I don’t know what we’ll run into out here,” Hunt said, his voice once more even as he turned the vehicle onto a gravel road. “So if I say stay in the car, I mean stay in the car.”
He was back in security mode. Their earlier conversation was over, which should relieve her, only it didn’t. All she could think about now was what he’d said, what he’d been about to say, and why a strong, take-charge guy like him could ever be scared of a weak, nobody woman like her. “I will.”
He glanced sideways at her, his jaw tight, and even though she couldn’t see his eyes she knew they were filled with skepticism.
“This is your area of expertise.” Releasing her arms, she folded her hands in her lap. “I’ll just sit in the car and wait until you tell me otherwise.”
He frowned and focused on the road once more, but he didn’t respond. And in the silence, she knew he was waiting for a pithy retort, but she didn’t have one. She didn’t want to have one. What she wanted was more of the easygoing, relaxed relationship they’d had during the bombing, when he’d made her feel safe even though she’d been in the most dangerous moment of her life.