Landon’s lip curled. “I’ll have it incinerated.”
“Better safe than sorry. I’ll send you our PIs number.”
“Thanks, Carter.”
“Anytime.”
Landon hung up, feeling his fury marginally abated. Or rather, it was now focused and that gave him the ability to think around it. It was shitty of Kait to have turned on him after everything that had happened between them, but she was scared. Someone had been in the restaurant with her, and someone had knocked on her door last night. After everything she had been through, he couldn’t blame her for not thinking clearly.
And that wasn’t really what mattered right now. What mattered was that she had a reason to be scared, and if she wasn’t going to let him protect her, he’d have to do it without her finding out.
Gray did his best to cheer Kaitlyn up as they moved his stuff into the two-bedroom apartment. “We haven’t been roommates since I left for college,” he said cheerfully, moving her knives over to put his on the prime piece of counter space she’d claimed.
“It’ll be great,” Kait said unenthusiastically, moving them and putting hers back. She was grateful to have Gray in Marjorie’s old room. After what had happened, she didn’t think she could sleep there alone, and she sure as hell wouldn’t be sleeping under the Atlantia’s roof. “What’s that?”
Gray was cutting the packaging off what looked like a three-foot-long white baton with black rubber at either end. When he was done, he walked over to the front door and wedged one end beneath the handle, the other end braced against the floor. “It’s a security bar,” he said, jiggling it experimentally. “For if you’re ever here alone while I’m on an evening shift or something.”
Kait recognized it now. The one she’d used in New York had looked slightly different, but it had served the same function. It had been the only reason she could stand being alone in the apartment for the first few months. “Thanks, Gray,” she said quietly, walking over to pat it like an old friend. She didn’t tell him that, unlike New York, there were too many other ways into the apartment for the bar to make her feel completely secure. There was the wide living room window, for instance. Not to mention the two bedroom windows. Sure, she could brace them, too, but that wouldn’t stop someone if they decided to hell with discretion and broke the glass.
For just a second, she felt a shiver of longing for the security of the high rise Atlantia, and even for Landon, but as quickly as she had let it slip in, her brain clamped down. It had been a ruse. She hadn’t been safe with him in that secure building. She’d just been too blind to see the difference between security and a trap.
Gray put his hand on her shoulder and peered into her face, his forehead creased with concern. “You okay?”
Kait did her best to smile, but it trembled from her lips, and she couldn’t hide the truth from Gray. His mouth turned down. “You’re not okay.”
“No,” Kait managed. “I’m scared, and I’m—” She nearly said heartbroken, but she couldn’t admit it. Not to Gray. Not to herself. “Mad,” she finished inadequately.
“Maybe it would be better if you went back to New York,” he said. “You can finish the cookbook there. You can get away from all of this.”
The idea was so tempting that she nearly gave in. To be back in her beautiful Brooklyn apartment with its vaulted ceilings, wooden floors that glowed in the afternoon sunlight, the cracked crown molding and even the tiny kitchen—but she couldn’t.
She raised her chin and set her mouth in a hard line. “I’m not leaving you, Gray. Not until all this is sorted out.”
“You can, though,” he argued. “This is a fight I started by coming back. I didn’t expect it to get ugly, but now that it has, I don’t expect you to stay in the trenches with me.”
“It’s a LeClarks fight. We ran away once. We can’t do it again.”
They stared at each other. Kait was strangely fortified by the argument. Gray’s mouth was pinched with worry, but she knew he wouldn’t try to force her to leave. They were in this together, whatever it turned out to be.
Though he had the PI working on Basil’s whereabouts, Landon called Simone and asked her to ask around, too.
“I can, but I don’t think I’m going to find anything out,” she said doubtfully, “He’s been persona non grata with our group ever since 1358. Not to mention, I told a few people what he was like. Not specifics or anything, I didn’t mention Kait’s name, but enough that no one is exactly looking for him.”
Though she promised to ask around, Landon knew she was right. Her crowd didn’t overlap enough with Basil’s. He needed someone in the culinary world. He reached for his phone again.
“Dom Von Lucas’s phone,” a brusque voice answered.
“Come off it, Dom. This is your personal line.”
Dom’s voice instantly changed to delight. “Landon James, is that you? Are you calling to tell me that you’re coming for my restaurant next? I warn you, I won’t go down as easily as 1358.”
“No,” Landon said. “I need some information.”
“Wonderful,” Dom said promptly. “I’ll trade you for it.”
Landon rolled his eyes at the horizon. He’d finally pulled off on an overlook and was sitting in his car, watching the sun sink beneath the Atlantic Ocean. “What kind of information, Dom?”
“Carter’s deepest, darkest secret. And your contact at Page Six.”
“That’s impossible. Carter doesn’t have deep, dark secrets, and I don’t have a contact at Page Six.”
“Then make something up, and make it good.”
Landon sighed because he knew Dom wasn’t kidding. “First, tell me if you know where Basil Hampton is right now. You don’t have to tell me where,” he added when Dom started to protest. “Just tell me if you know.”
“Of course I know.”
“Okay.” Landon wracked his brain. “Carter has gingivitis.
