“You’re certain?” That was bad news, but at least my instincts had been spot on.
“Why ask me for information if you’re not going to believe what I give you? Yes, I’m sure. And before you ask, no I don’t know what her real name is. We might get that from fingerprints if you lift some, but it’s not guaranteed. Or, DNA maybe, but that’s an even smaller database.”
“Thanks, Jordy. Can you keep this to yourself for now?”
“Keep what to myself?” he quipped.
“Exactly. I’ll talk to you later.”
Lifting prints and getting a DNA sample? I was going to have to think about that. If I took that step, Jordy was probably right that Peyton would be pissed at me. What if she was running from an abusive ex-boyfriend and she wasn’t a criminal hiding from the law?
“Everything okay?” she asked when I returned to the kitchen.
“Yeah,” I lied.
“Good. I’ll cook you breakfast.”
“How about I cook for you?” I offered.
“No way. You’re the guest, so I cook,” she said.
“Okay. Then I’ll take a quick shower.” On the way upstairs, I stopped to gather her Rolex from the counter and pocketed it.
The hot water of the shower didn’t do anything to clear my head about what to do next. Should I go behind her back and collect her prints?
CHAPTER 6
Peyton
Midday,I sat at my desk outside Grace’s office remembering this morning—and last night.
It hadn’t helped that March was shirtless this morning when I’d come downstairs, like some Greek god with rippling muscles and shoulders to die for. Then there were his tattoos.
A large eagle, diving down on some unsuspecting prey sat centered on his chest. His right arm had a snake coiled around it and the American flag. His left arm had writing I couldn’t read without staring, which I avoided. The man was something else, and therefore poison to me.
If you’d asked me before seeing March, I would have associated an abundance of tattoos with fat bikers or nasty criminals, but he was neither of those. On him, they added a…dangerous edge was the way I’d describe it.
Concentrate, girl.
I did my best to scrub my mind clean and contemplate my real problem. With Grace in demo room one and the phones quiet, inaction allowed my troubles to eat at me.
I couldn’t avoid March. He was today’s Hawk Security person assigned to our office to make sure Grace was safe after her recent encounter with dangerous mobsters.
She thought the danger was over, but her new fiancé Terry wanted to err on the safe side, and I didn’t blame him. Those guys had been scary.
When I looked up, March was sauntering my way. Even his walk was sexy.
“How are you feeling?” he asked. He seemed to mean it.
“I still feel fine. Do I need to take your test again already?”
“After lunch will be fine. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”
Those words from such a fine specimen as March would thrill any normal woman. The fact that they scared me just showed how broken I was.
I looked down and started typing on my computer. “Is that so?” I avoided looking at his face.
“Yes.” He settled into the visitor chair next to my desk. “In all the excitement last night, we forgot to settle on whether you would join me for one dinner or two lunches.”
