Page 20 of Final Cost

“Ms. Smith is already represented by counsel,” I say, praying she doesn’t ask me the counsel’s name because I don’t have it yet. “So you need to —”

“It’s okay, Lucien,” Tamsyn says, stepping out in front of me and facing Detective Smith with no idea of the legal jeopardy she could keep putting herself into. I know I did the same idiotic thing yesterday, but this is Tamsyn and I am not fucking around with her freedom. I’ve seen enough crime shows and movies to know how the police can twist things when push comes to shove. “I was?—”

“Ms. Scott. Stop speaking,” I bark.

“—back in the city with Lucinda Hooper, my former employer,” Tamsyn says. I make a sound of utter disbelief that she doesn’t bother to acknowledge. “She can vouch for me.”

Detective Smith tips her head at one of the uniforms, who whips out a notebook and writes that down. “Lucinda Hooper? At her Park Avenue townhouse?”

“That’s right,” Tamsyn says.

Detective Smith sends a flash of triumph in my direction. “See how easy that was, Mr. Winter?”

“Glad I could help,” I say, crossing to the door and swinging it open for them. “Now, if there’s nothing else?”

She doesn’t move. “Actually, there is,” she says, her smile fading. She reaches into her breast pocket and pulls out a sealed envelope, which she hands to me. “A warrant. For your security tapes. As requested.”

“Great,” I say, doing my best to hide my shock that she got it so quickly. It’s my own fault. I knew better than to underestimate her. “Let me just call my lawyer. I’ve already asked my security tech guy Ted Winwood to pull them for you.”

“Actually, Lucien, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Daniel says, stepping forward, pulling me to the side and dropping his voice. “The other situation I mentioned.”

“What?”I say. I’ve got enough situations to last the rest of my life at this point. The last thing I need is another one. “Spit it out.”

Daniel looks grim. “Winwood is gone. And we think he took the hard drive with the security tapes on it with him.”

9

Tamsyn

My phone ringswith Lucien’s special ring tone later that afternoon, when I’m alone in my bedroom, lying on my bed with a Julia Quinn historical romance I can’t force myself to read and bored out of my mind. I’ve developed the nasty habit of superimposing Lucien’s face onto the face of whatever Bridgerton hero I’m currently reading about and wishing Ms. Quinn would swoop in and solvemyromantic problems in a few hundred pages. God knows I need some kind of expert to help me sort through what my heart wants and all the warnings my head screams at me.

Anyway, I can’t snatch the phone up quickly enough, as thrilled as I am dismayed to hear from Lucien. My plan is for us to avoid and ignore each other. And I mean to. I absolutelywouldlet the call go to voice mail. Or, better yet, block him altogether. If only I weren’t so curious about any update on Winwood’s disappearance. Knowing Lucien, he’s probably already hired a team of investigators with bloodhounds to find him.

“Meet me out front,” Lucien says, his voice a low rumble in my ear when I answer.

“I don’t think that’s a good—” I say, my heart already thumping into overdrive.

“Now,”he says, and hangs up.

An internal struggle follows. Let’s call it brief. Let’s agree that my innate nosiness and overwhelming desire to see Lucien again quickly override my hatred of barked commands and make it impossible for me to do anything other than throw my sneakers back on and head downstairs. Am I proud of these moral failings? No. But I want the record to reflect that Idoforce him to wait a full three minutes before I walk downstairs at an unhurried pace. So I put those tiny triumphs firmly in my column. But when I get outside, I don’t hear him at first. Until I hear the crunch of gravel behind me and look around to discover —

“Oh, my God,”I say, the breath whooshing out of my voice on a wave of youthful fantasies run wild.

Lucien sits astride a towering horse. Man and beast are so tall that I find myself craning my neck to take them both in. As always when he’s around, my attention is drawn first to Lucien. He never disappoints. He’s changed into stretchy tan riding pants, the kind that are a loving caress to his thigh muscles and his impressive bulge in front. Everything is on beautifully masculine display. Forget gray sweatpants, ladies. If you want to see what your man has going on below the waist, these riding pants are the way to go. He’s also wearing gleaming black riding boots and a white polo shirt that showcases the broad stretch of his shoulders and rippling muscles in his arms. For added intrigue, his aviator shades are firmly in place. He’s even holding one of those little whippy things — acrop, I think it’s called. People also use these as sex toys. I flash back to an episode ofSex and the Citywhere Samantha gave Carrie her crop to use on Big. That leads to an immediate flash of wondering what Lucien would do tomewith the crop if I let him, but I immediately yank my naughty thoughts away from that image.

Focus on the horse, Tam.

My gaze switches to the other ridiculously masculine beast on display. I almost swoon. He’s dark brown but not quite black, with a forehead star and the kind of chocolate eyes with lush lashes that make kids all over the world fall in love the second they see a horse. I croon with appreciation, my instant adoration for him tempered only by my sudden increased hate for Lucien for putting me in this position. He truly is a master manipulator. He knows that while I may curse the ground he walks on, there’s no way I can walk away fromthis.

Taking full advantage of the wind blowing in his favor, he slides down from the saddle in one fluid movement that showcases him as the athlete he is. Then he stands there holding the reins of this giant creature as though it’s the most natural thing in the world to him. He’s truly breathtaking. And that’s before he hits me with all his focused attention. To his credit, though, he keeps any sign of triumph to a minimum, which I appreciate.

“I wanted you to meet a horse. Since it’s so important to you.”

My excitement is such that I’m not sure how I’m keeping the balls of my feet on the ground, much less the blossoming delight off my face. “What should I do?” I say, not wanting to do anything wrong and make the horse hate me for life.

“Come around to the left.” Lucien’s voice is a seduction in itself, darkly authoritative for both me and the horse. “Good girl. Now give him a second to get your scent.”

I go still and wait as I eat up this praise, but the horse has evidently been through this drill before and knows what to do. He gives me a big snuffling whiff, then nudges my arm.

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