“Some people photograph well.”
He blinked. He hadn’t given Daphne Parks much thought beyond knowing she was Callie’s sister and used to be a supermodel. She lived in Paris now; he knew that, too. Two of those facts must have created some sort of subliminal image in his head, though, because her dismissal of her extremely successful career sent something teetering off-balance inside him.
He stayed silent as she made another right, then a left onto one of the few dirt roads that wasn’t a driveway in the area. “You knew they were coming after me,” he said, mostly to take his mind off the way she handled the SUV; cool, efficient, confident, sexy as fuck. Then again, she’d been asupermodel. Of course she was sexy as fuck. She sold that shit for years. He’d bought it, too, he reminded himself. More than once back in his younger years, his gaze had lingered on her magazine covers. And yes, he’d even bought the famous “sports” magazine the year she graced the cover—one of the very few Black women to ever hold that honor, if that’s what it was.
“Morons,” she replied. Then with a tip of her head, she conceded, “It’s a good thing, too.”
“Morons?”
“I was finishing my breakfast at Maggie’s and two men walked in. Sat behind me. When you came into view, they made a few comments that led me to believe someone had hired them,or maybe just convinced them, to unalive you. You’re one of Callie’s brothers-in-law. I couldn’t let that happen.”
Yet another sentence to unpack. She’d recognized him on sight. Recognized that Callie had a new family now. One she, too, felt protective over. One she’d force another car off the road for.
Another little something shifted inside him. Callie and Philly had been married nearly four months. He’d assumed she hadn’t been interested enough in her sister’s life to visit before now. Maybe he needed to rethink that.
“They have the best pancakes in town,” he said.
Her head turned toward him slowly. “That’swhat you’re going to focus on?”
He shrugged. “That and the fact you were having breakfast at eleven in the morning. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you were. I’m glad those two didn’t have a chance to unalive me. Thank you, by the way.”
She turned her attention to the road as they crossed a one-lane bridge over one of the several rivers that fed the big lake in town. “You’re welcome. I didn’t see any blood or anything. That shot didn’t hit you?”
He shook his head. “Hit a tree about six feet in front of me.”
“You’re taking this all in stride.”
He inclined his head. “So are you. Unless you force strangers off the road every day in Paris.” Now that he thought about it, she was either very lucky or very well trained. Using a car as a weapon wasn’t as easy as the movies made it look.
“Not unless they’re in my way.” The corners of her mouth tipped up enigmatically, leaving him to wonder if that was a joke or a fond memory.
“You really don’t seem surprised,” she said, a question posed as a statement.
He adjusted the heat on his seat, then looked out the window. She didn’t press, which, oddly, didn’t sit well with him. Therealization that he wanted her interested in his life sat even more awkwardly on his shoulders. Then again, she was a stunning woman who handled his dream SUV like a pro and had just run strangers off a road for him. It shouldn’t surprise him that he wanted to show his appreciation in the most elemental of ways—which he’d never pursue unless she showed a mutual interest. Which didn’t seem to be the case.
Shoving that train of thought, and the unwarranted disappointment, awkwardly back into the cave from which it had emerged, he answered. “Right after I left the army, I met a woman. After two months of dating, we got married, against her parents’ wishes. It went to shit about three months later, ending with her nearly killing me because she was convinced I was having an affair with my boss’s daughter. Which I wasn’t,” he said, feeling the need to clarify. “I wanted to get her help. The police and the other person she injured disagreed. She ended up with a twelve-year sentence. They released her early for good behavior last month.”
“And you think she sent someone to kill you?”
“She has money and made it very clear that?—”
“That if she couldn’t have you, no one could.”
He tipped his head.
“Hmm. How’d she do it?” she asked, navigating through an icy spot like a pro.
“Knife.”
Daphne remained silent, although he swore he heard doubts swirling in her mind. It didn’t take long for her to share.
“A knife is pretty personal. Very up-close. Hiring two people to shoot you…”
“The day I found out she was released, I got a restraining order.”
Daphne snorted as she turned left onto the road that would lead them to the club.
“What?” he said.
