Page 54 of Enticing the Fixer

“Why?” So, this isn’t an unusual or unknown conspiracy theory.

“He had a standing poker game with some of his friends from high school at a house on 10thStreet. Every Wednesday night, he met with them. Even though my dad made it big, and they were struggling financially, they were lifelong friends. He never made them feel inferior.” She shrugs. “When I was a kid, I went with him. They’re great guys.”

“What are their names?”

“They have nothing to do with the drunk driver that hit him.”

“How do you know it was a drunk driver?”

She shifts off my lap and stalks to the refrigerator, yanking open the door. The bottles of water clank together with the force of her movements. “Who else would kill a person and not report it to the police? Whoever it was had to have been drunk, high, or wanted for another crime. Otherwise, they would have stuck around to ensure he had medical assistance.” Her shoulders shake as she reaches inside and grabs one of the bottles.

“Sweetheart.” I jump out of the chair and wrap her into my arms. When she resists, I hold her tighter until her back is molded to me. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, it’s okay.” She sniffs as her body shakes against me. “The papers never reported it, but he lived for an hour after the hit and run. Bleeding out.”

Fuck.I spin her around, remove the bottle from her hand, and hold her as she cries. Her hot tears slide down my skin. “I haven’t cried since his funeral.”

“Then, cry now.” I rub her back in slow circles as her ragged breathing fills the room.

“If someone had called the police or for an ambulance, he would still be alive. It makes no sense if it wasn’t someone afraid that they’d end up in jail. Because who else would do something that evil?”

For several minutes, I hold her, soaking up her sadness, regret, and bitterness, taking it in as my own pain. Her perfume mingles with the now cold tomato cream sauce for the pasta and shrimp. She’s right. Whoever caused the accident was up to no good. Whether it was intentional or not.

Kinsley is one of the strongest women I’ve ever met, but right now, she feels broken. Anger fills my soul. Whoever is responsible needs to pay the consequences. And I’ll use every available resource to find out who it was. It won’t bring her father back, but she deserves justice. And peace.

“Babe, I don’t suspect your dad’s friends, but they might know more than they think. Maybe they have friends in the neighborhood that saw something without realizing it. People in those types of communities don’t talk to the police.” But they do talk for money, and I have plenty of that. “What are their names?”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Several Days Later

Kinsley

Ann shuts the door to my office and marches across the floor like she owns the place. “I still don’t know about her.”

I frown. “Who?”

“Your assistant.” She waves her hand toward Valeria’s office. “Valentina or whatever her name is.”

“Valeria.”

“Right.” She slips into the seat across from me and crosses one leg over the other. Her red, knee-length dress is paired with a set of mid-calf black boots. Combined with her red hair, it shouldn’t work, but Ann can pull off any outfit. It used to drive me nuts, but at this point, I have too much going on to fret about my looks.

I drop the pen from my fingers and rest my hands on the desk. “What bothers you about her today?”

“I asked her if you were in, and she said no. Imagine her surprise when I brushed past her and came in anyway.” She pins me with a look. “And you’re here.”

“What if I wasn’t alone?” Heat floods me as memories of Leo’s habit of destressing me with his expert fingers and tongue take centerstage in my brain.

“I saw Leo in the lobby, so I assumed you weren’t indisposed to that level.” She brushes her palm over the fabric above her knee.

“Fine. I’m not indisposed.” I raise my eyebrows. “But I did tell Valeria I was busy this morning and not to let anyone in.”

“Good thing it was me and not anyone else.” She hops out of her chair and walks to the floor-to-ceiling windows. “I’ll give her a pass today.”

“Thank you.” I lick my lips and lean back into my chair.

What if Leo’s right? What if there’s more to my father’s death than meets the eye? I can’t stop running the possibility through my head. So much so, I can’t sleep at night.

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