Page 2 of The Criminal

Derek held out his hand and glanced meaningfully at my closed fist, asking for the Panerai. For some perverse reason, I didn’t give up my prize.

He edged closer and bent to read the watch’s description. “A hundred grand? That seems pointless.”

My throat loosened, and the need to defend not just the watch but, in a way, my livelihood rose inside me. I knew and understood fine jewelry. It was the part of my life I could brag to Derek about.

“Money is the point. A show of wealth. A watch like this is a signpost.” I opened my palm to show the timepiece.

“Like a Lamborghini.”

“Less ostentatious than a supercar and easier to take to a board meeting.” I took great care in returning the watch to its velvet pillow. The jewelry store owner in me longed for a cloth to buff off the fingerprints I’d left on the face.

Our gazes met and held. I could see uncertainty in his furrowed brow as he tried to reconcile my current self with his memory of me. I confused him. Like the Panerai, I was complicated…a dichotomy.

“Your mom told me you were in Miami. I’ve been meaning to look you up.”

No, he hadn’t; seeing me was nothing but painful since both Ray and Mom were gone. We hadn’t kept in touch.

“You say that like you just moved to town.” I hadn’t meant my words to sound like an accusation. Neither of us had reached out. I had no right to scold him. There was a metric ton of blame to share.

He shrugged off my comment and leaned in like he would kiss my cheek or hug me. I shoved a hand between us, offering my palm for a business-like shake. I might have dreamed about hugging him, but it didn’t mean I wanted it to happen in real life. No, our past and my present were too complicated.

My hand outstretched between us, an awkward pause grew until he relented and clasped my palm. His grip was firm, his calluses rough on my skin. He was still a soldier. Still fighting.

I pulled my hand back and put extra distance between us. I tried to avoid reminders of my roots at all costs, and Derek was the six-foot-two personification of my past.

“I’ve been in Miami for five years. I should have…” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his nicely tailored but cheap suit and shook his head slowly. The starched white dress shirt strained over his well-developed chest. In his mid-forties, Derek was still in fighting shape. Broad through his shoulders and lean in the waist.

“It’s not important.” I put my hand on his arm and instantly pulled it back. The casual touch was electric with memories. “Mom told me when you moved to town. I could have found you.” I congratulated myself on the breezy delivery of my words and careless shrug despite the weight of our shared history.

When my mother first informed me of his arrival in Miami, she had been so thrilled for me. She was already sick, and the thought of Derek and I reconnecting after she passed gave her some peace. I never dissuaded her of the idea, but I also never followed through.

My feelings for Derek had always been complicated. As a teen, I had a massive crush on him, and everything about the brave, beautiful Navy SEAL obsessed me. As an adult, I avoided him to keep memories at bay. And because he was the kind of man I absolutely couldn’t have interested in my complicated life. I never reached out, but neither had he. My mother acted as a conduit, keeping us apprised of each other’s lives.

As time passed, a scab covered over any annoyance I felt at his presence in my city. But I did take pains to ensure that we never crossed paths. The status quo suited me.

So, what the hell was he doing at a thousand-dollar-a-plate gala screwing everything up?

He looked distracted. He tilted his head, and his eyes searched the room. It was then I saw the discreet communication device in his ear. Not a guest but security. Interesting. Security was a low-rent gig, but the gala had the correct clientele for a company like The Smith Agency.

I kicked myself for skipping my typically rigorous preparations for a scouting mission. It was a mistake, but a party at the OceanBlu hadn’t seemed like a dangerous situation. And even if I had known that The Smith Agency would be running security, I would have come. Tonight was a command performance. I had favors to repay. A girl like me didn’t climb out of the trailer park under her own power. She needed help. And that meant debts.

When his eyes returned to me, I pointed at his ear. “Working?”

“Security. We’re volunteering. It’s a good cause. And the Mills family are clients of my employer.” He straightened his jacket and scanned the room again. His eyes lingered on the display of watches and clocks up for bid.

“The Smith Agency.”

His eyebrow shot up at the casual way I tossed out his employer’s name. “Keeping tabs on me, Amber Lee?”

“It’s just Lee,” I corrected him, ignoring his question.

“I’m aware.”

I dropped the Amber years ago, another part of my reinvention. Derek was one of the only people not in Atoka, Oklahoma, that knew my history. Knew my family. And of my rocky start in life. But he didn’t know everything. Only a few very unsavory men knew that.

The long and short of it: I kept tabs on Derek Sawyer. But I wouldn’t tell him that.

His visual sweep of the room complete, he looked back at me. His eyes raked me from head to toe. I stood tall under his scrutiny, radiating the cool that was my hallmark.

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