Page 21 of Stone Rules

He puts a hand on it, holding it firmly to the table as if wanting to keep it from me. Then he opens it, retrieving the papers inside.

I remember the thought I had earlier of him finding out everything and it turns my stomach over. I quickly ask, “You didn’t contact them, did you?”

“Of course not. You hired me to locate them, not contact them. We’ve found half of them so far.” He hands me three pieces of paper, each one with a different name at the top. Addresses, phone numbers and other pertinent information line the pages. “Obviously the three who are celebrities have been easy to pin down. But none of them currently reside in New York. One still has a place in the city that he lives in part time, however, he’s filming overseas for the next few months. The other two live in Los Angeles most of the year. You’ll see their home addresses listed, but these are not places you can simply walk up to. You’ll have to go through security to get in. It’s also nearly impossible to get private numbers of these people. And they change often, so what we found may be outdated. Best to try and get in touch with them through their agents, whom I’ve listed for each of them. I’m sure if you tell them who you are and why you want to see them, it won’t be a problem.”

I almost choke on the corned beef in my mouth. If their agents knew why I wanted to contact them, they wouldn’t roll out the red carpet, they’d secure a restraining order.

He pulls out another piece of paper. “This one, Peter Elliot, he’s a small-time indie film producer. He lives locally, and although his address is confirmed, you won’t find him there. He’s in the hospital. Car versus pedestrian accident. The car won and he’s been laid up in the intensive care unit at the hospital for six weeks now. You may want to wait on that one. I’m not even sure the guy can talk or have visitors.”

I have to press my lips together to suppress a smile. Serves the bastard right.

“This one, Nick Dewey, as far as we can tell, he doesn’t have a home address. He used to work for Grandiose Production Company as a camera operator, but lost his job almost a decade ago and hasn’t surfaced since. If I find out anything else on the guy, I’ll let you know.”

Dewey. I remember how good it felt to hurt him at my mother’s funeral. I know I didn’t really need his information, but I thought, what the hell, I might want to send out a group text one day.

“The last one we’ve found so far is Milo McClintock, otherwise known as Clint. I’m not exactly sure of the connection between him and your mom, but because of the unusual name, and the fact he’s local, he’s most likely the one.”

He scrubs a hand over his chin. “But, Charlie, call the guy if you need to talk to him. Don’t go to his residence, it’s not in a good part of town. We couldn’t find a place of employment, either.”

That’s because he’s a drug dealer.

“Even when you’re in disguise” —he waves a finger at my hair and glasses— “you’re still insanely beautiful and would be a target.”

Insanely beautiful?Normally I might have a reaction to those words. But right now, I’m trying everything I can to keep it together and not lose my lunch, because my head is still stuck on Milo McClintock. The first man who ever touched me. His name and his vile touch are ingrained in my memory for all eternity.

I reign in my feelings and reach for the folder, but he doesn’t release it completely and we each have a grip on either end. Trying to keep my hands from shaking and giving me away, I silently count to ten, calming the storm that is brewing in my head. “Do you know if these guys are married or have children?”

Ethan studies me. He’s always studying me. It makes me wonder if he’s this way with everyone. Probably. He did say it was his job to read people.

“I can find that out.” With his elbow on the table, his hand comes up to cover his mouth as he’s deep in thought. He hesitates before asking, “Exactly what kind of message do you have for these men?”

“Isn’t that beyond the scope of your employment?” I ask. “I pay you to find someone and you find them. No questions asked. Right?”

“For the most part, yes. But why ask for information on wives and kids? You said your mom was involved with these men. I refuse to be a party to you ruining people’s families, Charlie.”

“Really, Stone? Why so defensive?” I ask warily. “You don’t even know these people. And what do you care about the sanctity of marriage, let alone having a child? From what I hear, you’re nothing but a certified bachelor.”

He locks eyes with me briefly, and then his gaze lowers to the table. I’m a bit taken aback, because in that moment I saw something in his eyes. Pain.

He recovers quickly. “Damn it, Charlie. Back off. I’m just not in the business of hurting people.”

I grab one of his fries and pop it in my mouth, buying me time to think. “Oh, so you never follow cheating husbands and give their wives ammunition to obliterate them?”

“It’s not always the husbands who cheat, you know.”

“Whatever. Same difference.”

“Those people who blatantly cheat on their spouses; I don’t lose sleep over what becomes of them after my job is done.” He nods to the folder that we’re both still holding onto in what seems a stalemate tug-of-war. “But these men could have been your mother’s lovers long before they were married. If you show up and open a can of worms, it could cause unnecessary strain on an otherwise good marriage.”

“Relax. I have no intention of ratting out men for screwing my mother. I promise.”

I will my eyes to appear sincere. Iamtelling the truth, albeit a twisted fucking version of it.

I must be as good an actress as my mother, because he finally releases the folder. “Fine,” he says. “But I’m serious about this McClintock character. Call him. If you must make a personal visit, I’ll go with you.”

I grab another fry and swirl it into his ketchup. “I’m not sure I could afford your hourly fee.”

“That one would be on the house, Charlie. Your safety is worth a lot more to me than a few hundred bucks an hour.”

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