“Dead people.”
“Still, she’s hopping around the east coast committing acts of fraud, and we’re the only ones who know about it as far as I can tell. She needs to be caught.”
Yeah, if that wasn’t hurt pride talking, Reece would eat his tie. Vaughn could try to make it into a quest for justice, but it was a case of plain old bruised ego. Vaughn was the runner in all of his past relationships, and it was eating him up that for once, the woman had not only run from him, but all-out disappeared.
Reece rubbed his chin and then at the knots in the back of his neck. Vaughn wasn’t going to let this drop, especially now that he felt justified in his pursuit, but someone had to rein him in before he went into self-destruct mode.
And Reece knew just how to do it.
“All right.” He sat up straight again and met Vaughn’s gaze. “Here’s the thing. I need you working a case that’s not this.”
“Reece—”
“No. Listen. I need you to look into the arson at The Bean Gallery. I’m fairly certain someone was trying to kill Shelby that night, and I want to know who. You look into that for me, and I’ll dig up what I can on Lark’s previous identities for you. Deal?”
Vaughn’s jaw slid to one side as he thought it through. Finally, he gave a short nod. “Okay. But only because I like Shelby and the thought of someone trying to hurt her pisses me off.”
“You and me both, bro,” Reece muttered as Vaughn stalked out. “You and me both.”
Something was different.
Reece paused just inside his front door and scanned the apartment’s open layout. Something was…off, but damn if he could put his finger on what it was. He walked in slowly, his senses humming. After the whipped cream fight last night, he wouldn’t be surprised if Shelby launched some kind of sneak attack with silly string or some shit, but she wasn’t in the living room or kitchen.
He made it halfway across the living room before he spotted the two colorful pillows now decorating his sofa. He picked one up. It looked like it had been sewn together using multiple strips of leftover fabric, a clash of colors and patterns. He frowned over at the other one. It was shaped like a sugar skull.
What the…?
“Shelby!”
No answer, but he heard the first strings of music coming from her bedroom and scooped up both pillows before following the sound.
“Shelby?” He tried knocking on her door, but got no response. The music—Jesus, it was reggae—wasn’t overly loud, but unless he pounded on the door, she wasn’t going to hear him. He sucked in a fortifying breath, because who the hell knew what he’d find on the other side, and tried the knob.
Shelby was standing barefoot on a mat, her back to him, one knee bent, the other straight, and her arms out at her sides. Warrior II pose. She was doing yoga.
Okay, that was not what he expected.
Somehow, every time he thought he had her figured out, she managed to throw a curve ball at him. It was thrilling—kind of like a puzzle that changed the moment he had it put together. She was thrilling and until he saw her standing there, deep in her own thoughts, he hadn’t realized how much he’d been itching all day to get home and see her again.
She turned to repeat the pose on the other side and spotted him there in the doorway. She smiled. “Oh. Hey. I see you found the pillows. I saw them while shopping with Libby today and couldn’t resist.”
He looked down at the pillows still in his hand. He’d completely forgotten about the damn things and couldn’t remember what it was about them that had bothered him. He set them aside on her dresser. “You also picked up some of your things, I see.”
A bright paisley-print bedspread and more colorful pillows now covered the mattress and several boxes lined one wall, spilling clothes onto the floor. Her bird sat inside a bigger cage than the one it had traveled in, its head bopping to the beat of the music. Sam the Cat squatted on the end of her bed, eyeing the bird like he was considering a snack.
“Yes. Just enough to get by for a few months.” She sank deeper into Warrior II and closed her eyes, breathing slow and deep.
“How was your shopping trip?” he asked, unwilling to let the conversational ball drop.
“Successful.” She opened her eyes, and the corners crinkled with a smile. “I have clothes that won’t scare away your friends now. I also dyed my hair. Hope the red’s not too much.”