“Why do you always insist on seeing the bright side?” he countered.
She’d expected him to come back with that and was prepared. “Because I like having faith in my fellow human being.”
His eyes on the road, Jackson made a disparaging sound. “Fastest way to be disappointed, if you ask me, is to have faith in your fellow human being.”
Brianna looked at the man driving beside her for a long moment. She knew very little about Jackson Muldare—other than he was an excellent detective—even though they had worked together before. The little she did know, by way of rumor and innuendo, was rather sad and depressing. She debated saying something to him, trying to make him come around.
But before she could open her mouth, Jackson warned, “Don’t analyze me, O’Bannon.” He never took his eyes off the winding road.
“I didn’t say a word,” she said, raising her hands in mock surrender.
“You didn’t have to,” he told her. “I can feel you thinking.”
“That’s quite a talent you have there,” she replied, a touch of mocking in her voice.
“It’s my survival instinct,” he answered in all seriousness.
While he respected the woman as a detective and, yes, maybe even liked her to some extent, he was aware of the reputation she and the rest of her family had. They never met a person they didn’t try to bring into their circle and absorb. Whether or not that person was willing didn’t seem to matter. The Cavanaughs were firmly convinced that everyone was better off as part of a group.
Hell, most of the time he didn’t even really see himself as part of the police force. He certainly didn’t feel the need to buddy up to anyone, no matter what anyone thought to the contrary.
His best bet until this was resolved, Jackson felt, was to keep the woman’s mind on the case—and off anything personal that might have to do with him.
Having finally arrived at the main road, he glanced in her direction. “Where do you want to go?”
She thought of what Winston Aurora had said just before they left his mansion. “We might as well get the family lawyer out of the way, see if he can shed some light on the sale of the decade.”
Jackson laughed shortly, although there was no smile on his face. “I can just see the posting online—‘For sale, one classic hotel. Comes with built-in tenants, no extra charge.’”
“Why, Muldare, I had no idea that you had a sense of humor.”
His expression remained unchanged and almost stoic. “I don’t.”
“That would explain a lot of things,” she responded. It occurred to Brianna that she hadn’t given him the address to the law firm. “Oh, Cahill’s office is located on—”
“I know where it is,” he cut her off. And then, in case she had any doubts about what he’d just said, he told her, “McFadden.”
Brianna just shook her head. “Muldare, you are just an endless source of surprises, you know that?”
For the first time since they’d left the hotel, she noticed just the barest hint of a smile on Jackson’s ruggedly handsome face. “I like keeping you on your toes,” he said.
What Muldare liked, she thought, was keeping her off balance.
She paused for a second, debating her next question. Deciding she had nothing to lose, she forged ahead and asked, “How’s everything?”
The simple question made no sense to him. He never liked things that made no sense. “In reference to what?”
“Your life,” she specified. Met with a stony silence, she tried again. “I’m asking you about your life, Muldare.”
“You writing a book?” he asked her.
“No,” she replied, doing her best not to get exasperated. “I’m trying to make small talk with my partner.”
“Your temporary partner doesn’t like small talk,” Jackson told her. “It serves no purpose. Hence the word small.”
He really was an exasperating man, Brianna thought. But she was far too stubborn to give up.
“Then you’re missing the point of small talk,” she told him.
“Isn’t that the lawyer’s building just up ahead to the right?” he asked, knowing full well that it was. He only asked because he wanted to divert her attention.
Aware of what he was trying to do, Brianna suppressed a sigh. This isn’t over, Muldare.
She turned her attention toward the very modern-looking building Jackson had just pointed out. The edifice was constructed out of what looked to be, at first glance, all reflective glass. At certain times of the day in the spring and fall, the building made driving by it close to impossible because of the glare. But since it was only for a few minutes each time, and the office building housed a number of important companies, no steps were taken to change anything.
“That it is,” Brianna said, confirming what she knew that Muldare already knew. “Small talk is tabled for now,” she said deliberately—and then put him on notice. “But I intend to get back to it.”
“Good luck with that,” Jackson murmured under his breath.
But she heard him. And she smiled because at that moment, she’d made herself a vow. She fully intended to peel away Jackson Muldare’s protective shield if it was the last thing she ever did. Not to satisfy her own curiosity, which she admittedly had in spades, but because she felt that he needed to expose whatever it was he was guarding so zealously to the light of day. She was convinced that he would remain a tortured soul until such time as he cleared out his demons.
* * *
Forewarned, Roman Thomas Cahill was waiting for them when they arrived at the law firm.
Stopping at the reception desk, Brianna and Jackson asked the very efficient-looking young man manning the desk if they could speak with Cahill.
“First door to your right,” the receptionist said. “Mr. Cahill is waiting for you.”
“One hurdle down, four hundred and ninety-nine to go,” Brianna said to her partner.
“Only?” was Jackson’s response.
A moment later, they were walking into R. Thomas Cahill’s cavernous office.
Leaving the shelter of his desk,
