Beau pulled into the garage, parking between the Lambo and the Ferrari. The garage door slid closed as they got out and walked into the house.
“We need to look at those files,” Cassidy said, headingfor the study down the hall. Beau enjoyed the view from behind, the sexy way her stretch jeans curved over her tight little ass. He tried not to think how much he wanted to peel her out of them and haul her back to bed.
He sighed, forcing his thoughts back to finding a killer.
* * *
Mal looked up as the door opened and Clifford Jennings walked into the office.
“You wanted to see me?” Cliff sat down in a chair on the opposite side of his executive desk and crossed a leg over his knee. Jennings was his right-hand man, his go-to guy when he wanted something done. He was smart and he was ruthless, a man Mal could count on.
“Reese and that female PI came to see me,” Mal said. “Wanted to know if the senator had borrowed money and if he’d paid it back.”
“What’d you tell them?”
“I told them the debt had been repaid, but I don’t think Reese was satisfied. I may have underestimated him. Beau Reese was a winner on the track. It takes balls to drive a race car two hundred miles an hour. Still, I have a hunch once the girl is out of the way, he’ll back off.”
“So you want me to have her taken care of?” Cliff smoothed his fingers over his mustache as if he relished the notion.
Mal leaned back in his chair. “As I said before, only if it can be made to look like an accident. Make sure that’s understood.”
“I’ll handle it.” Clifford rose from his chair. “We finished here?”
“For now.”
Jennings turned away and ambled out of the office.
Mal thought of the disposable phone in the bottom drawer of his desk. He should probably make the call, bringhis client up to speed and inform him of his decision. On the other hand, if things were handled properly, the problem would be solved and his client would never need to know.
Mal leaned forward and buzzed his receptionist. Pamela didn’t have much in the brains department, but she had other talents. He didn’t like problems, and after his conversation with Reese and the woman, he needed some stress relief.
The door opened and she sashayed in, sporting big hair and pouty lips, ass swinging in her short tight skirt, cleavage on display. He was surprised she wasn’t chewing gum, the way she usually did.
“You need something, Mr. Vaughn?”
He didn’t have much use for women, paid this one too much for the ridiculously easy job she did, but she had skills more valuable than answering phones and taking messages.
He reached down and unzipped his trousers. “I think you can guess what I need.”
She tossed her long blond hair over her shoulder. “Oh, yes, Mr. Vaughn. I think I know exactly what you need.” Pamela rounded the desk and dropped to her knees.
* * *
Now that they were safely back in the house, Beau retrieved the flash drives he had brought with him when they’d left Pleasant Hill. He checked the labels he’d put on the back and found the one he wanted. When he turned, he saw Cassidy examining the photos on his desk.
She held up a picture of him in his orange-and-black fire suit displaying a first-place trophy, Cain’s arm over Beau’s shoulder. “You and Linc. Where was this taken?”
“Los Angeles TimesGrand Prix.”
She picked up a photo of him and his college roommate, an African American student with a wide, goofy grin. “RonnieJackson,” he said. “He was my best friend at UT-Austin. Great basketball player.”
“He looks like he would be. He’s even taller than you.”
His nerves began to build as she moved to the next photo, last Christmas with Linc and his brother Josh. Next to it was a photo of him and Sarah back in his senior year of college.
His chest clamped down when she picked it up, studied the slender girl with the long, silver-blond hair and the face of an angel. “She’s beautiful.”
His jaw went tight. “Yes.” Cassidy’s head came up at the harsh note in his voice.
