wasn’t about them. This was about Jaz, and I had to do my damnedest to push the past away and focus on the present.
I smoothed out my blazer and my shirt, making sure I was presentable before moving to the front door and ringing the doorbell. Oliver Fitzpatrick answered, looking as dour and glum as ever, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, his suit jacket unbuttoned. His eyes locked with mine, and he said nothing as he held the door open and stepped aside, letting me enter.
Shit. This couldn’t be good. Not good at all.
“Oliver,” I said, giving him a nod.
“Jacob,” he responded, eyeing me up and down with a slight frown. “You look…” He apparently couldn’t figure out how to finish that sentence, for he didn’t; he just shut the door and said, “Follow me.”
I did as I was told, trailing after Oliver to the living room—and it was as if nothing had changed since the last time I’d been in this house, minus the fact that his insane twins weren’t around, nor was his wife or his stepdaughter.
Except, of course, the mother and daughter combo currently occupying the living room’s giant, wide space.
Jaz and her mother.
Jaz was sitting on the couch, her arms crossed over her chest—an ample, eye-catching chest I should not be staring at while her mother and Oliver were nearby. I averted my eyes the moment our gazes locked and Jaz realized I was here. I could tell she wanted to get to her feet, but she also wanted to look calm and collected in front of her mother.
Her mother wore a frown, her blonde hair pulled back and draped over a single shoulder. Her green gaze studied me, an unimpressed look tugging on her features. She looked nothing like Jaz, nothing at all. Standing there, seeing them both before me, it would be impossible to know they were related. Even her skin was a few shades lighter than Jaz’s.
“Is this him?” Her mother addressed Oliver and not me.
I kept my mouth shut, not knowing how much they knew about me and Jaz. I hoped not too much. She was eighteen, and I was damn well nearly thirty; I bet if her mother knew we’d been together she’d have me thrown out of this house, especially since it sounded like her mother never wanted Jaz around any boys.
“Yes, Piper, this is Jacob Hall, the private investigator I was telling you about,” Oliver spoke, introducing us.
Figuring I might as well act the part, I offered Piper my hand to shake. “It’s good to meet you, Ma’am.”
She rolled her eyes, making no move to take my hand and shake it. “None of that, God.” That sounded like something that would’ve come out of Jaz’s mouth; maybe she and her daughter were more alike than appearances would suggest.
I glanced at Jaz, wondering if I should play it off like I’d never seen her before. All Jaz did was shrug.
Right. Very fucking helpful.
I decided to address Oliver, “It’s been a long time. Why am I here?” It wasn’t like he and I were ever close; he’d undoubtedly heard by now what his sons had done to me, how they destroyed the career I’d built, the life I’d worked so hard for. This, the Jacob I was today, was not the man I thought I’d be.
“Jaz,” Oliver spoke, gesturing to her, “has gotten herself in trouble. Someone’s trying to set her up for murder, and I’m hoping I can hire you to help me figure out who it is. A client is always easier to defend if I have the whole story.”
Someone was trying to set Jaz up for murder? What—
I glared at her, hoping she could read my mind. I fucking told her to stay away from those guys, didn’t I? I told her that getting involved with Vaughn Scott was a mistake, and Dante fucking Storm was just as bad. And that said nothing about Archer Vega, whose father was just charged with a whole host of illicit things.
“Do you think this is something you can do?” Oliver paused, waiting for my response, but there was something in the way he looked at me, something that made me think there was more to this. It almost made me wonder if he knew about me and Jaz.
Or maybe that was just my paranoia.
The whole room stared at me. Three sets of eyes boring into me like they waited with bated breath for my answer. What the fuck else