Mr. Vasco allowed for a triumphant grin and pointed to the couch across from Sophia’s desk. “Please, Mr. Brockton. Let’s sit.”
Blayze took a seat as Nicolas sank into the spot beside him. Though the District Attorney had spent most of his career as a prosecutor, the man had that politician look to him. Clean-shaven, poised, and polished around the edges. Blayze half-expected to hear a high-pitched chime as he flashed his wide, sparkling grin.
“Roman, the guy who’ll be driving for you and Sophia, is a retired detective and close family friend. I want you to utilize him and his connections as you need. Though I understand Mr. Smith isn’t lacking in that department, it might come in handy to have someone running alongside.”
Blayze nodded; he had yet to find a department where Sutton lacked, save decorum at times, not that high society would ever see that side.
“Two-and-a-half years ago, my wife was killed in a rollover car accident.” Mr. Vasco’s accent was different from his daughter’s, more of a roll on the r-sounds. “It was deemed an accident by officials, but Roman and I have had our doubts from the beginning, mainly because of the tire marks at the scene. If Camila had fallen asleep at the wheel, they wouldn’t have found tire marks indicating a sudden jerk of the wheel.”
“Unless she woke up and panicked,” Sophia mumbled from her office chair.
“That’s possible too,” Nicolas said, “just not probable, in my opinion.” He kept his head angled toward Blayze, but his eyes shifted to his daughter. “Sophia hasn’t wanted to accept that her mother’s accident might have been malicious, but the last package she received all but spelled it out. I assume that since you just lost your own mother, you can understand how painful accepting something like that would be…”
“Of course.” Blayze glanced toward her desk. Sophia’s head was down, eyes fixed on the papers before her, but just as he pulled his gaze away, Blayze caught the woman wiping moisture from her cheek. A hot ache pricked his chest as Mr. Vasco continued.
“At this point, I’m sure we can all agree that we’re dealing with the man who killedmi esposa amada, my most beloved wife. And that means he won’t hesitate to kill again.” The intensity in the man’s eyes increased as he leaned in. “I don’t expect you two to be literally joined at the hip, but youdoneed to stay close. Each penthouse we booked for you will have weights and a workout bench so that you can keep up with your daily regimen without leaving Sophia alone for predictable amounts of time.”
“That’s great. Thank you.” Sutton was always good at requesting perks like that; mainly because it emphasized the type of physically fit and disciplined team he’d assembled.
“I was assured you’d be carrying at all times,” Nicolas said.
“That’s right.” A Beretta M9 and a Smith and Wesson revolver were among the list of weapons he carried on the job.
“And that you’re a good shot.”
Blayze resisted an onslaught of images confirming that very thing. Blood splattering in response to the pull of his trigger. “Yes.”
“I believe in this judicial system, Mr. Brockton, make no mistake. Ideally, we settle things through the law. But if worst comes to worst….” He drifted off there, staring off for a blink before resuming that poised posture. “Well, we’re understood then.”
“Yes, sir,” Blayze said with a nod. “Understood.” That explained why he’d gone to Sutton Smith.
Blayze let the new information simmer as he waited for Sophia to finish up. Upon her father’s departure, she hadn’t so much as acknowledged the interaction. Simply stayed busy with her papers one moment, a laptop the next, and her phone as well. Blayze took notes on the new details he’d received and considered what he’d like the private investigative team to focus on. It was easy enough to work in comfortable silence, but each time Sophia picked up that phone, the sound of her voice distracted him.Sexywas the only word for it. Low and smooth. That accent rolling off her tongue.
“All right…” Sophia mumbled a while later, coming to a stand. “Ready for food?” She straightened her skirt before tossing a purse strap over one shoulder.
Blayze came to his feet. “Whenever you are.”
“Fabuloso. I am seriously starving.” She led the way through the crowded corridor, breezing past suits in business blue and politician grey.
“Hey, Sophia. Your dad’s on top by thirteen percent,” an older gentleman announced.
“That’s what I like to hear,” she hollered over her shoulder.
Jane, the eager intern, shot to a stand as they entered the main work center. “Hey, are you guys grabbing lunch?” Boxes and whiteboards surrounded a line of makeshift desks. Stacks of paper, rolls of stamps, and an endless supply ofRe-elect Vasco for District Attorney-labeled pens littered the surface. The girl’s cronies, busy at either side of her, glanced up with wide eyes.
“Yeah, can we go with you?” the one named Frank asked.
Sophia tilted her head, seeming to weigh the option as a kid in a deli apron walked by with a notepad.
“Tell them to order lunch here,” Blayze suggested. “I think it’s best that we talk privately today.”
Sophia stopped walking, leaned slowly back until the side of her forehead rested a mere inch from his lips. He stilled, waiting for her to speak while her sweet, tropical scent swirled in the small space.
“They’re just kids,” she said. “They’ll let us talk amongst ourselves.” Her tone was more casual than testing.
“Not today,” he said.
The chaos slowed in one corner of the room. Blayze glanced over to see they’d gained a small audience where her father stood, a swarm of suits surrounding him. With his eyes set on Sophia, the polished man tipped his chin the slightest bit, seeming to say something with the nod. He cleared his throat then, nudged a gentleman by his side. The chaos picked up once more.
