“Sure,” Taylor replied. “That doesn’t mean we can’t take a look around, ask a few questions.”
Will didn’t trust that reasonable tone. “Yes. If that’s all you’re talking about. Because we’ve got to be realistic. You know as well as I do, we’re not in a position to take on another client.”
Taylor shrugged dismissively. “If you don’t want to take Ashe on as a client, that’s okay with me. I wasn’t planning on billing him. I’ll handle this as a favor. In my spare time.”
This was exactly what Will had feared. Taylor had not only already made his mind up, he was busily working out the details before they could even finish identifying what those details might be.
He tried very hard to keep his exasperation from showing. “What spare time? You don’t have spare time. Neither of us do.”
“What’s your point, Will?” Taylor rested his hand on his canted hip, and studied him with cool, green eyes.
That—in fairness, unconsciously—cocky posture, that skeptical really? stare, were the reason so many people longed to punch Taylor five seconds after meeting him. It wasn’t really who Taylor was. Or rather, yeah, the confidence, the cynicism, were facets of his personality, but not the main facets, and not traits he typically turned on Will.
Obviously, this was a unique case, and Will needed to respect that. Which he was trying to do.
He said, “All I’m saying is, doesn’t it make more sense—isn’t it better for all of us—if we direct Dekker back to the sheriff’s department? And if you don’t feel like that’s enough, we can refer him to another—”
Taylor cut him off. “Uh-uh. We’re not referring him anywhere. Ashe came to me.”
“I know that. That’s why I’m saying—”
“I gave Ashe my word that if he ever needed help, I’d be there. I didn’t say, if you ever need help, I can refer you to someone. I promised I’d be there for him.”
“I get that.” Will did. It would be unreasonable to be irritated with Taylor for making those kinds of promises years before they’d ever met. He wasn’t irritated, and he definitely wasn’t jealous—he didn’t think—but Christ, Taylor could be so bullheaded.
“Do you?” There it was. That hint of cynical smile. “Because that’s not what I’m hearing.”
“What you’re hearing is me trying to work out what’s going to be best for all of us. We’re not bodyguards—”
“We’ve handled plenty of protection details, so don’t give me that. What’s your real beef?”
“My real beef is not two hours ago we landed the kind of job we’ve been hunting since we left the DS, and we both know we don’t actually have the manpower to carry it off.”
“So we’re going to be stretched thin. We should be used to that by now.”
“So, taking on another job—one that’s liable to be as time-consuming and distracting as this one sounds—is not smart.” He shook his head.
“It’ll take a day. Two at most.”
“You’re dreaming.”
“The hell. You think I can’t handle tracking down this Zamarion guy?”
“Of course I don’t think that. But come on, you know what this is going to be. Chasing smoke in the wind.”
“I know.”
“Then you admit it’s not an efficient use of our resources.”
Taylor opened his mouth, and Will added, “And while we’re on the topic of resources, I thought you were frantic to pay Richard back? Just this morning you said again how much you didn’t want to be in debt to him. Which is all the more reason not to take on a pro-bono gig that’s liable to jeopardize the first job we’ve had that might allow us to start paying off that debt.”
Everything Will was saying was true, so it was maddening to have Taylor keep looking at him with that skeptical expression like…what? What did think was really motivating Will?
“I see,” Taylor drawled. “If David Bradley came to us for help, you’d just give him the name of a good local firm and send him on his way?”
Will felt himself change color. “It’s not the same situation. David is—was—”
He stopped, realizing he was wading into quicksand.
Brows arched in pointed inquiry, Taylor said mildly, “David is—was—?”
“David is our friend—”
“He’s no friend of mine.”
“He’s not someone from my distant past asking for a favor. And anyway, I’d have to tell David the same thing I’m telling you now. We don’t have the resources to handle this.”
“Bullshit.”
Somehow the quietness of that was more jarring than if Taylor had shouted at him. “If David Fucking Bradley came through that door, asking for your help, you’d move heaven and earth to give it to him. We both know it. And guess what? I understand that. I even respect it. Which is why I expect you to understand and respect my position. I’m not asking you to put in extra hours. I’ll handle this on my own. And I’ll make damn sure that it doesn’t interfere with the Webster Fidelity job. Okay? Fair enough?”
No, it was not okay, it was not fair. It was foolish and impractical. But after Taylor invoked David’s name, what else could Will say? No way in hell could he risk arguing with Taylor about David, and clearly that’s where this conversation was headed.
Will said curtly, “Fair enough.”
Taylor nodded, yanked open the door, and they walked in silence back into the front office. They found Ashe scrutinizing a stack of framed photos. He looked up with an expression of hope mixed with wariness, and set aside a seven-year-old picture of Will accepting his marksmanship qualification badge.
“Okay,” Taylor told him. “We talked it over. We’re taking your case.”
“You are?” Ashe threw a quick, doubtful look at Will.
“Yes,” Will said.
Ashe still seemed unsure. “If this isn’t the kind of thing you do—”
“We do whatever needs doing,” Taylor said.
“It’s our company’s slogan,” Will said sardonically. “We’re going to get it printed on coffee mugs.”
Taylor gave him an unamused look before saying to Dekker, “Where are you staying?”
“The beach house. Carpinteria.”
“Okay, I’ll drive up first thing tomorrow and take a look around. You can fill me in on
