He was right, dammit. Not the Ferrari, and a red Jeep was out of the question. She bit back a smile. Beau and his flashy cars.
“Fine, we can take the Beamer. Maybe we could, you know, go to lunch or something. We can’t hide in the house forever.”
He scowled. “I was hoping Vaughn would make some kind of move by now. So far he hasn’t gone anywhere interesting and his conversations have been way beyond boring.”
They had stayed on top of the audio and GPS, but so far,Vaughn had spent very little time on his cell while he was driving, just calls to his office—including some steamy phone sex with his secretary. Nothing they could use, and he hadn’t had anyone else in the car to talk to.
They had followed his route on the computer screen, but mostly he just went to the office, then home. The man was definitely a workaholic.
They headed down to the agency, with Frank Marino following the Beamer in a black SUV. He parked behind them in a space in front of the building and stayed with the vehicles, keeping an eye out for trouble.
Connie was working at the front desk when they walked in. She glanced up, spotted Beau, and both black eyebrows shot up.
“My, my, girlfriend, now I see why you haven’t been coming to work.”
Cassidy just smiled. “Connie, this is Beau Reese. Beau, Connie Thurston. She runs the place and somehow manages to keep all of us in line.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Connie. And I congratulate you. I know from personal experience, keeping this lady in line is a monumental job.”
Connie laughed. “Oh, he’s got your number, girl. I can tell you that.”
There was no one else on the floor. Cassidy looked over as Chase Garret walked out of his office. He was tall and very good-looking, in his midthirties, with dark blond hair and a lean, hard body. Like Jase, he was most comfortable in jeans and cowboy boots, though he kept his boots polished to a mirror shine.
He walked straight up to Beau. “Chase Garrett.” He extended a hand.
“Beau Reese.” The men shook.
Chase tipped his head toward the door he had just walkedout of. “Why don’t you two come into my office, where we can talk?”
Beau glanced at Cassidy, but she had no idea what her boss wanted. They followed him into the room, a smaller version of the main office, with a big oak desk, chairs, and bookshelves. Pictures of Chase’s family ranch out in the Hill Country hung on the walls.
Chase closed the door. “Have a seat.” Both of them sat down in comfortable brown leather chairs in front of his desk. Chase sat down on the opposite side. “I hear you two have been having some problems.”
The muscles in Beau’s shoulders tightened beneath his shirt. “You heard that?” He didn’t like people knowing his business. He flicked Cassidy a glance, but she just shook her head. “What exactly did you happen to hear?”
Cassidy didn’t tell him Chase had a way of knowing everything that went on in Dallas.
“For starters, I heard there’s a contract out on the two of you. Someone with big money wants you dead. I was just getting ready to call Cassidy when you walked through the door.”
Her pulse shot up. She’d known someone was hunting them, but a professional hit sounded even more frightening. “Any idea who took out the contract?” she asked.
“No, but I’ve got feelers out. The minute I hear I’ll let you know. In the meantime, you need to get somewhere safe until this blows over.”
“It isn’t going to blow over,” Beau said. “Not until we figure out what the hell is going on. Holing up somewhere isn’t going to solve the problem.”
Chase’s dark gaze rolled over him, surveying the protective gleam in Beau’s eyes, taking in more than Cassidy wanted him to know. “Okay, I get that. Maybe there’s something I can do to help. Tell me what you’ve got so far.”
Cassidy glanced at Beau and read his reluctance. Hedidn’t know Chase Garrett from the man in the moon. He didn’t know if he could trust him. No way did he want to spill the information they’d been collecting.
Cassidy set a hand on his arm. “I’ve worked with Chase for years, Beau. He’s one of the best investigators in the business. I’d trust him with my life. On a couple of occasions where guns came into play, I actually have.”
Beau released a pent-up breath. “All right. That’s good enough for me.” For the next half hour, they filled Chase in, bringing him up to speed on the murders, including the possibility that Senator Watson’s death had not been an accident. They also relayed their suspicions that Mal Vaughn was involved up to his money-lending neck.
Neither of them told Chase they were tracking the man. The PIs in the office were independent contractors. Not knowing some of the gray areas they worked in gave Chase credible deniability. She didn’t want him losing his license—or worse—over something she’d done.
“If you’re right,” Chase said, “whatever’s going on—it’s big. Cassidy’s had two previous attempts on her life. Now a pro has come out of the woodwork hunting both of you. If Mal Vaughn is involved, he’s not the big fish. Someone with way more to lose is calling the shots.”
“Any idea who?” Beau asked, leaning forward in his chair.
