“Right. But you were out here last night, yeah?”
“No. I only just got here.”
“And you’re visiting…?”
“None of your business. Is that all? I’m trying to have a nap here.”
The window on his side is also wound down. I send him my warmest smile. “Yes, that’s everything. Thanks for your help.”
I step away, moving around the back of the car, looking both ways just like my mother taught me, so it appears I’m about to cross the road.
Then I rush for his door, reach my arm through the window, snatch his keys and dance away.
“What the fuck?”
The man pushes his door open, taking a while to get to his feet after long hours spent sitting. I backtrack, glancing around to see if any curtains are twitching, if any pedestrians are approaching.
But we’re in a don’t hear, don’t see, don’t report kind of neighbourhood. If anyone is watching, they’re making damn sure no one knows.
I snap a photo of his licence plate, then scroll to my keypad to dial back the officer who just called.
“Who the fuck are you ringing?” he asks, the menacing steps towards me faltering. “Just give me my keys back. There’s no need to involve anyone else.”
I haven’t pressed to dial yet. I dangle the keys and watch his eyes narrow, but he doesn’t come any closer. The man obviously has more to lose from the police turning up than I do.
“Tell me what you’re really doing here, and I’ll let you have your keys back.” When he doesn’t immediately answer, I saunter close to a storm drain, holding them above the grill and watching as his eyes nearly bug from his head.
“Okay. I’m watching a house. It’s my job.” He jerks forward and I hold the keys nearer to the grate until he retreats. “I’m just getting my wallet out, okay?”
Like I’ve got a gun trained on him and might fire at the wrong move. The idea makes me smile. “Sure.”
“This is my card,” he says, holding the battered slip towards me. “I’m a private investigator and I’m tracking everyone who goes in, out, or near this house over here.”
He waves his hand in so broad a gesture that it encompasses the nearest three properties, but I know he means mine.
“Who hired you?” I ask but I already know. “Call Trent and tell him I don’t need a babysitter, thanks.” I close the keys into my fist, withdrawing it safely to my side. “How much is he paying you?”
“None of your business.”
I tuck the keys into my pocket and cancel the call to the police, switching it to a call to Trent instead. “Why the hell is a man parked outside my house, staring at me?”
“To keep you safe since you refused my invitation for you to move into Fort Knox.”
“You call it that?” I snigger, holding my hand up in warning when the PI takes my good humour as permission to approach.
“It’s large, it’s secure, and it’s full of my dad’s riches. Don’t you think it fits?”
I take another look at the weary man in charge of my welfare. “Where’s the beefy security guard?” I ask Trent, only partly teasing. “This guy looks like he’d go down in a fight long before I would.”
“He’s there to record details of anyone acting suspiciously and find out who they are and what they’re doing there—not to punch them.”
“If you’re going to have someone stationed out here all day, I want someone who can punch them, too.”
“I’m well aware of what you like, Rosa. That’s why you’ve got the runt of the litter.”
The response makes me wrinkle my nose, smiling. Trent got me a protector, but not one who might give him a reason to become jealous. It’s kind of adorable.
But I still don’t want him out here. “Tell your man he’s relieved of duty.”
