Page 68 of Shark’s Pride

“Red?” I tightened my hold. “What is it?”

“I’m beginning to think you were right,” she said. “About holding off on calling the cops.” She worked her bottom lip under her teeth. “We still don’t know what’s going on over there”—she darted a glance at the pool—“or with Tawny. Wherever she is.”

I lowered my brows. “Explain.”

She hauled in a deep breath. “Are we going to look guilty when we admit that she’s been here all this time and we never told anyone?”

“I don’t know what we’d be guilty of.” I was sincere about the assurance. “She was thought to be dead, not evading arrest—or committing a crime. We weren’t aiding and abetting a criminal.”

“I know, I know.” More lip chewing, which had me tempted to halt her by simply kissing her. But her stress was palpable, making her shiver all over again. She stepped back to start pacing back and forth across the deck, but I grabbed her around the waist and steered her inside the main house.

Elijah knocked on the front door a few minutes later.

“Banks,” I greeted, nothing but business in my tone.

“Good evening, all.” There was nothing but charm in his—but most disturbingly, the shit was authentic. That wasn’t always the case with Elijah, but right now he was in full, gregarious, unassuming mode.

“Ms. Gibson,” he drawled. “I don’t think we’ve formally met yet.”

Abbi bit her lip, giving off her exclusive mixed air of suspicious and charm, as Elijah took her extended hand and bent his lips over it. “Nope. I don’t think I’ve had the—”

“Pleasure,” he finished for her, lifting his head and flashing a wink. “And it is one…indeed. I’m Elijah Banks, Mr. Shark’s private investigator.”

He finished by placing a soft kiss to the freckled back of her fingers. Just as swiftly, she shot her stare up to me—missing his mischievous smile. That was fine by me. More than fine.

Elijah jumped his regard from her to me, obviously checking if I’d caught his entire move.

Oh yes, Mr. Banks. I see. I rarely miss a trick where you’re concerned, buddy.

Nevertheless, I warned from the rumbling depths of my throat, “Elijah.”

Like that moved the needle of the guy’s game—or what he imagined it to be—by a millimeter. “Hey, Bas,” he greeted as if I wasn’t still brandishing a get-your-hands-off-her-now glower. “How’s it going this evening?”

“I’ve had better,” I answered curtly. “And as I’ve already communicated, someone’s been in the pool house. Besides Tawny.”

His features, rugged and handsome when relaxed but next to Satanic when he was pissed, darkened to something in between. “You’re sure about that?”

“I will be once we look at the security cam footage. Did you pull it?”

“Of course,” he stated. “But I didn’t have a chance to look at it because I came right over. Do you have a laptop I can put the drive into?”

“In my office.” I jerked my head toward that end of the house, as if Elijah couldn’t track his way to the room blindfolded by now. “Let’s go.”

I led the way for a couple of reasons. Most importantly, we still had no idea what was going on here. If the creeps who’d messed with the pool were lingering somewhere, it made sense for me to be their first—and hopefully only—target. Neither Abbi nor Elijah deserved to be on the wrong end of their fuckery.

“Did you pull video from the whole day?” Abbigail asked when we were inside my home office.

“Yes, ma’am.” Though Elijah answered as if giving deference to a superior officer—which was funny, given that the guy’s street smarts made him more lethal than most special ops personnel—he jerked a questioning brow my way. Maybe now he’d start realizing just how vital Abbi was in my world.

When the drive mounted, I opened the file with today’s date. The monitor came to life, filled with five fixed views of all the backyard areas. “When was your last check on the property?” I directed Elijah’s way.

“Around four p.m.,” he offered. “But like I said in my earlier text, there didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary—except that I hadn’t seen Tawny all day.”

“Did you check on the pool house?” Abbi posed, bending her stare toward the bottom left corner of the screen, where the structure was displayed. As of ten o’clock this morning, nearly twelve hours ago, all still seemed quiet on the casita front.

And for the next five minutes and then the next, it continued that way. The three of us continued watching every corner of my serene backyard in the midmorning sun.

“Shit, we need popcorn for this action,” Elijah said dryly.