Page 64 of Leather & Lark
“Louis Campbell? Who’s that?” Lachlan asks, and his question hangs like an ornament in silence. I don’t reply as I hover thecursor over his name. “You think he has something to do with what’s happening to your family?”
“No,” I say as I return the cursor to the search box and clear the query. “I was just curious.”
Though I feel Lachlan watching me, I don’t turn toward him. “You sure—”
“Maybe we should start with the most obvious names and work our way from there.” My fingers fly across the keyboard. “My aunt’s nemesis would be the most likely candidate.”
I have enough information about Bob Foster to enter into the search fields for the results to turn up a single contact card. When I click on it, a spread of more detailed data fills the screen. There’s a row of locked queries at the bottom of the page, the information hidden behind paywalls.
“I doubt he would do the dirty work himself, but he’s definitely the kind of guy to pay for chaos. Do you think we can figure out if he was involved?”
When I meet Lachlan’s gaze, his brow is furrowed, his eyes dark as they sweep across my skin, leaving heat behind. “It’s your contract, duchess. Do what you want.”
I return my attention to the screen and gnaw at my lip.
“It’s a good plan,” Lachlan says as he points to one of the locked tiles. “Click on that one and enter your Leviathan account number. We’ll check through his bank records and see if there are any recurring payments around the same time as the murders. That’s where I would start.”
I grin at Lachlan. And though it’s soft and almost shy, he smiles back.
And we hunt through the records together.
RETREAT
Lark
Lachlan leans against the passenger side of the Charger with his arms crossed. The doors to Shoreview Assisted Living slide shut behind me and I take a few steps into the muted light of the overcast morning, my bag slung across one shoulder, the strap of a guitar case across the other. Though my eyes are hidden by sunglasses, I know he can see the surprise and trepidation in my wary stance as I draw to a halt. I don’t know why I’m surprised when it’s been just over two weeks now of Lachlan doing little things to try to chip away at the wall I try to keep between us. It’s not the first time he’s showed up somewhere unexpectedly to offer me a ride. But something in his expression seems different this time, even from a distance, and it keeps me locked in place.
Lachlan unfolds his arms, stepping to the side to open the car door. He flips the passenger seat forward so I can put my belongings on the back seat. When he faces me once more, I haven’t moved an inch.
“Come on, duchess. Let’s go.”
“Go where?” I ask.
“Can’t tell you.”
I swallow and fidget with the strap of my bag but I don’t come closer. A heavy beat drums in my chest as indecision and distrust root me to the ground.
Lachlan takes a small step forward and I remain still, my steady breath a fog in the cold air. “The … uh … the passenger seat is comfortable.”
“Better than the trunk?”
He winces. “I thought it might be too soon for that joke.”
“It was probably going to come up eventually.”
His hand slides to the back of his neck. I cross my arms over my chest, waiting to see what he’ll say. We’ve never spoken openly about that night—maybe we’re both too stubborn, or are unwilling to fracture the fragile peace that’s grown between us. But something seems different in Lachlan today. Like there’s both heartache and hope in his eyes.
He takes another step closer. I stand my ground. “That night we met,” he says, his voice soft with regret. “The way I acted, the way I took my shitty attitude out on you, putting you in the trunk … it wasn’t right. I’m sorry, Lark. I know what I did was … it was cruel. I wish I could take it back. I wish I could takea lotof things back. But I can’t. I can only tell you I’m sorry, and I’m not going to ask you to forgive me.”
I square my shoulders and tip up my chin. “Well, that’s kind of a half-decent apology, aside from the weird forgiveness part.”
“I’m not going to ask you to forgive me because I want to earn it.” Lachlan takes a final step closer. Gently, he takes the strap ofmy bag and slides it from my shoulder. “And when I do, you can let me know.”
My cheeks heat beneath the cold bite of the wind. And he sees it. His lips curve in a faint smile before he turns and starts walking back to the car.
“You sound pretty sure of yourself,” I call after him.
“Yeah, well, I’m not the type to give up easily. I’m not afraid of putting in the work.”
