In A Fix - Mary Calmes Page 0,95
he got no coffee, only water, and then I walked him into the bedroom.
“You got hurt,” he reminded me as he slid in under the covers. “You should rest too.”
“I will, but I have phone calls to make.”
“Okay,” he agreed, and rolled over and closed his eyes.
I called Jared Colter when I was back in the kitchen, cleaning up.
“Well done, Esca,” he told me. “I was briefed by Alexander Higa about an hour ago, and not five minutes ago Brigham Stanton paid the balance on our invoice.”
“So I didn’t die, and Torus got paid. That’s a win all the way around.”
“It is, yes.”
What was I going to say to him?
“Esca?”
I took a breath. “There’s a need for good, reputable, dependable private investigators here in Vegas.”
“I’m sure there is,” he agreed. “People can get lost there, and they need someone other than law enforcement looking for them.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
“Tell me.”
But it was so completely unlike me. “I was thinking that I might make a pretty good private investigator,” I said, taking the leap.
“No,” he said gruffly. “You’d make an excellent private investigator. You’d be able to do the part you like best about your work at Torus, but all the time.”
“Finding the truth?”
“I was going to say ferreting out secrets and lies. You like a good mystery, and you enjoy solving them.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“Why don’t we do this,” he said slowly, his voice that deep rumble that made you think he would take care of you. “You stay on my payroll and use your Torus credentials until you get licensed there.”
“And then?”
He grunted. “Then we’ll talk and decide if you want to keep Torus as a partner or do things on your own.”
“Begging your pardon, sir, but do you just decide these things on the fly?”
“Yes,” he replied honestly. “When it’s right.”
“How do you know?” I asked him. “Brann just left. So have others. But I’m different?”
“Did it ever occur to you, Croy, that I’m a fixer too?”
It hadn’t, no, not until right then. “You’re saying you were fixing me while I was working for you?”
“Are you different?”
I was, yes. “Somewhat,” I admitted.
“For the better?”
“I don’t know if it’s better or—”
“Esca,” he said, sounding tired. “It’s better. You’re better. Let it go.”
I couldn’t stifle my chuckle. Lying to Jared Colter was impossible.
“You’ll need a partner, Esca, and I don’t mean your FBI agent.”
Of course he knew all about Dallas.
“You have someone in mind who might want to do the PI thing with you?”
There was Jared’s syzygy again, when everything aligned. It was crazy that it was happening to me all at once.
“I might.”
“Well, have a talk with them and get back to me. In the meantime, Owen cataloged the tea service, because Locryn would rather gargle glass. It’s all there.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You’re welcome, Esca, we’ll be in touch.”
He was gone a moment later, and I had the horrible feeling that I was making a huge mistake. It was terrifying to think that Dallas could change his mind about me, or I could wake up one day and not be crazy about him anymore. But then again, wasn’t that the same gamble that everyone took?
A couple hours later, needing my laptop, I went into his bedroom to grab it from the nightstand on my side of the bed.
“Hey, baby,” he murmured, having rolled over so he could see me, his smile so full of aching tenderness that I took a second to wonder what I’d done right in my life to deserve him.
“Go back to sleep,” I directed him, turning to go.
He caught my wrist. “I can’t sleep. My mind keeps running through the what-ifs.”
“Everything’s fine,” I assured him, needing to leave the room almost desperately. Here I’d made this huge decision, and I hadn’t even told him. “Just try and—”
“You could sit in bed and do whatever you have to. That’d be good.”
“The typing will keep you awake,” I argued. “If I leave you alone, you’ll be out in seconds and—”
“I don’t—” His breath caught. “Don’t want you to leave me alone.”
I wasn’t stupid. I knew we weren’t talking about the present.
“So, if it would be all right with you, I want to talk to Montez about—”
“Stop,” I ordered, putting the laptop back where it had been and then climbing over him and dropping down onto the bed beside him.
“Jesus, be careful of your wound,” he groused, rolling over to face me, scowling. “Take off the sweater and let me check the bandage to make sure it’s not bleeding again or—”
“It’s fine,” I