Page 3 of Two Steps Ahead

“Weston, this is Leo Delacruz.” The man’s voice was still as authoritative as Weston remembered. “Do you remember me?”

“Yes, Mr. Delacruz, I remember.” A bright summer in an otherwise dim time of his life.

“Good, good. I need to talk to you about your security services. Something important that I don’t want to discuss over the phone. Can you come out to the estate?”

“Sure. I’ll be glad to come out.” Security for someone of Leo Delacruz’s stature would be a boon for their business. “When were you thinking?”

“This afternoon at three. Unfortunately, danger doesn’t wait for appointments or convenience. Do you remember the estate?”

“I sure do.” It wasn’t something Weston would ever forget.

“Good. I’ll see you then.” He hung up without another word.

Brax was staring at Weston, eyes almost comically wide. “Did Leo Delacruz just call you?”

Weston nodded. “He wants to possibly hire us.”

Brax shooed that info away. “Leo Delacruz, the billionaire business mogul, just called you personally. Not through the office line, but on your cell phone. Knew you by name.”

Weston rubbed his hand over his short-cropped hair. “Yes. I worked at his house one summer as a kid, a few years before Mom and Dad adopted me. I was sort of an assistant gardener.”

Not really. The truth was he’d been a nine-year-old kid who’d desperately needed wide-open spaces and his temporary foster father Henry—Leo’s actual gardener—had realized that. Henryhad brought Weston along to work with him and paid him a little out of his own salary.

“You knew Leo Delacruz in your past life and never once mentioned it.” Brax shook his head. “Brother, you take the strong, silent type way too far. I would have that info tattooed on my forehead.”

Weston smiled and rolled his eyes. “I was a kid. Haven’t talked to him since. I’m surprised he remembers me at all.”

He and Leo hadn’t been close. But he and Leo’s daughter, Kayleigh, had been nearly inseparable. He’d thought about her way too much over the years, even though neither of them had ever made any attempt to get in touch after that one summer.

“What are you going to do?” Brax asked.

Weston shrugged. “Show up at three.”

And step back into the past.

THEDELACRUZESTATEhad seemed like a castle to Weston as a boy, majestic and overwhelming. The red-tiled roof had peeked out from over the tops of sprawling Mexican oaks, the beautiful arches and windows more amazing than anything he’d ever seen.

The property itself was on the outskirts of San Antonio, backing up to the Hill Country State Natural Area. Thousands of acres behind it that would never be built on made the Delacruz estate seem even more magnificent.

Now, as a grown man pulling onto a front courtyard large enough for a football game, the house didn’t seem as overwhelming, but it was still impressive. Everything about it screamed money—the striking fountain at the center of the courtyard and the tan, brown and red stone comprisingthe exterior façade of the home that seemed to glow in the midafternoon sun.

Weston’s eyes automatically landed on the grounds. Partially because of his love of plants and landscaping, which could be traced back to the summer he’d spent at this estate. But also to see the changes that had been made since he’d seen it last over twenty years ago.

It still looked amazing. The presence of flat, white landscaping stones that cut into the sloping ground running down from the front patio created a multilevel effect. Potted succulents and cheerful blackfoot daisies sat atop the stones, and they appeared carefully tended to.

Henry, Weston’s first foster father, would’ve approved. He’d loved working here, loved explaining the plants and their characteristics to the timid Weston. Loved making the grounds at this estate as beautiful as they could be. But Henry had been gone a long time. Weston was glad to see Leo had not let Henry’s hard work go untended over the years.

He parked and turned his attention to the enormous doors at the front of the house. He hadn’t spent much time inside as a kid, not that he’d wanted to. Everything he’d wanted had been outside. The sun, a chance to move without having to worry about someone hurting him, and Kayleigh.

He rang the doorbell and a well-groomed woman in her midfifties answered. She gave him a warm smile. “You must be Weston Patterson. Mr. Delacruz is expecting you.”

“Thank you.” He stepped inside and she closed the door behind her.

Weston spotted two security guards immediately—one was using a tablet, undoubtedly to check Weston’s appearance against his ID picture. The other was ready to make sure Weston didn’t get any farther. That was a good sign. If all it took toget inside Leo Delacruz’s house was to hack his calendar, his security team wasn’t doing its job at all.

“I’m Gwendolyn Whitlock, Mr. Delacruz’s assistant.” She turned and walked quickly, efficiently, and he followed at her heels. “He’s waiting in his study.”

He remembered only some of the inside of the main house from his time here as a child. The gardener’s shed was a different story—although how that two-story structure with running water, electricity and air-conditioning could be called a shed was beyond him. He’d loved that building. Loved when Kayleigh had snuck them Popsicles and they’d eaten them fast before they’d melted in the Texas heat.

---