He would let the FBI find Eisenhardt and talk to him.
Getting rid of his champagne glass, Gerard looked around for someone to drive him back to his boat. He’d collapse and sleep late, cleanse his thoughts, then hire himself an attorney, on the slim chance that Steve hadn’t exaggerated or lied altogether. His warning had shaken Gerard more than he’d realized at first. It brushed too close to his life, his ambitions. As callous as that sounded, what else did he have? He would be irresponsible not to protect his interests.
“You look as if you’re about to run screaming back to D.C.”
Gerard turned, smiling, in spite of his mood, at his longtime friend. “Ollie. I was beginning to wonder if you’d given up on your own party and gone for a walk on the beach.”
“What passes for a beach out here.” He gave a short, awkward laugh, then turned to face the bay, glistening in the afternoon sun. “I never should have had this open house. It was a bad idea.”
“Your guests all seemed to enjoy themselves. I got the impression that being able to actually see what you’re doing here won most of them over.”
“That’s good,” Crawford replied, but he didn’t sound pleased. He sighed, keeping his gaze on the water. “There was a scene earlier with Quinn Harlowe.”
“I heard,” Gerard said, surprised that Ollie didn’t seem irritated with her. “I didn’t get any details. What did she do?”
“She slipped into the house and found me in the library. No one noticed. Then she…” Pausing, Oliver turned to his old friend. “She’s suspicious, Gerry. She’s spinning conspiracies and fantasies where there are none. I’m afraid she’s going to get burned.”
“She’s still upset over her friend’s death.”
“Gerry, perhaps you should remember that Quinn Harlowe isn’t just a pretty face. She’s a well respected, very sharp expert in transnational criminal networks.”
Gerard tried to smile. “Yes, but unless you’re operating a criminal network out of your dining room, you have nothing to worry about.”
“ Sharon was very angry with her. One of the new guys, Huck Boone, escorted Quinn out of there. Joe Riccardi went pale. I think he was worried about what his wife would do, actually.”
“From what I’ve seen of her, she’s one tough cookie.” Gerard frowned at his friend, who suddenly looked as if he wanted to cry. “Ollie? Are you okay?”
“Alicia’s death has affected me more than I realized.” He cleared his throat, rallying. “I don’t mind saying so.”
“But you hardly knew her…”
“I got to know her over the last month. We became close-not romantically. I’ve never met anyone I could talk to the way I could her.”
Gerard felt his spine straighten. “Oliver, you might not want to divulge more.”
“You’re right. I’m just-” He clapped a hand on Gerard’s shoulder. “I’m just contemplating what might have been. Come in for a drink before you leave.”
“I shouldn’t. I’ve had too much to drink as it is.”
“Gerry…I had nothing to do with Alicia Miller’s death.”
“If I thought you did, I wouldn’t have come near this place today.”
“Stay, Gerry. Let’s talk.”
But a stiff-backed Travis Lubec was waiting just off the patio to take him back to his boat. Gerard wanted to go back to Washington, but wondered what would happen if he said no. He told himself he was being ridiculous, he was getting paranoid-thanks to Steve Eisenhardt.
“Of course, Ollie. We’ve known each other a long time.” He met his friend’s gaze. “I’d be happy to stay and talk.”
Quinn ducked into the bedroom and changed into jeans, a sweatshirt and water shoes, wondering what had possessed her to fall so hard for Huck, because that was what she’d done. If Vern Glover hadn’t shown up, she had no doubt she and her undercover marshal would be in bed right now.
She hoped she wasn’t responding to some need to remind herself that she was alive and had done her best by Alicia-that kissing Huck Boone/McCabe on her doorstep wasn’t just about the risk, the adrenaline rush of being around him. He was sexy, confident, irreverent. She liked him.
On the other hand, he was pretending to be a bodyguard. She’d never seen his badge. She’d never seen him off duty. She couldn’t picture where he lived, didn’t know who his friends were, what he liked to do when he wasn’t working undercover.
Basically, she didn’t know much about the man at all, she thought, tying back her hair. But as she finished up and shut the bureau drawer, she caught the reflection of her bed in the mirror and saw that the bed linens were askew. She’d been too preoccupied to notice sooner.
She felt a crawling sensation and, grabbing an antique wooden canoe paddle she’d meant to stick on a wall, returned to the kitchen.