“That’s where the theft of the car comes in.” She took a dainty sip of the water as if to counter her confession. “I figured you’d spot me if I followed you in my own car, so I did the deed in a nondescript sedan, one you’d hardly notice even if you were looking for a tail...and you weren’t.”
He set his bottle on the table next to him harder than he meant to. The crack made her jump. Good. “You did not follow me all the way to my house and then to Van Nuys, reaching the bike shop before I did, all without my noticing you.”
She folded her hands in her lap on top of her skirt. “I figured you’d be meeting at Mike’s because I know that’s where Matt works and does his dirty deeds. I just didn’t know the time, and I didn’t want to sit on Van Nuys until midnight. I followed you halfway up the hill and waited in a turnout until I saw you come down the hill.”
“How’d you beat me to the meeting place?” A prickle of suspicion teased his brain, and he held up his hands. “Wait, stop. I don’t want to know.”
“I was driving an unmarked LAPD sedan.” She cocked one eyebrow. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”
“Yeah, that I can figure out, although I can’t believe your...nerve.” He gripped the neck of his bottle. “What I can’t figure out is why. Why did you need to get there before me? Why was it so important for you to talk to Dugan before I did? Or stop him talking to me.”
“If Matt’s lips are moving, chances are he’s lying. I didn’t want him to tell you a bunch of lies about me, and he would have.”
“Who said he was going to talk about you? He was going to tell me who paid him to plant those cards.” He watched her face closely.
Sensing his scrutiny, she raised the glass to her lips to hide the bottom portion of her face. “Matt was obsessed with me. He wouldn’t miss a chance to talk about me, spread lies. You don’t even know that someone paid him to leave the cards. He’d tell you anything to collect a little dough. He has a problem with drugs—in case you didn’t notice.”
“Why not just tell me that, then? Why go to all the trouble of stealing a car and following me?”
She widened her eyes. “Maybe if you’d told me you’d contacted him from the beginning. Why did you sneak around behind my back to find Matt?”
Jake jumped up from the chair. He didn’t appreciate being in the hot seat in his own home during what was supposed to be his own interrogation. “I did it for you.”
She dropped her lashes over her eyes, closing herself off even more. “Interesting take.”
“When you told me you suspected Matt of leaving the cards, I wanted to make sure he stopped. I wanted him to leave you alone.”
“Sweet, but I’ve been handling Matt Dugan most of my life.” She leaned back on the couch and wedged her feet against the coffee table. “And you thought you did a good deed because he admitted to playing tricks with the cards, which he may or may not have done.”
“Oh, I’m sure he did it.”
“Because of your super-awesome detective skills?”
“Because—” he yanked his suit jacket from a stool at the kitchen counter where he’d left it when he came home from work and dipped his hand in the pocket “—I found these at that dump he calls an apartment.”
As he spread out the playing cards in his hands, Kyra shot up straight. “He had a deck of cards in his house? So what?”
“A deck of cards that was missing two queens. You wanna guess which ones?”
“That bastard. He did do it.” Her eyes glittered, and Jake had to wonder who had more to fear in the ongoing skirmish between Matt and Kyra.
“He didn’t even admit it to me at the time, but I knew. So, I took the cards. Then he contacted me later to let me know he’d give up the person who paid him to do it...for a price. It could lead to something in this case if he does. If he survives.”
“Then I hope he does.” She downed the rest of the water and sauntered to the kitchen to put the empty glass in the sink. She pointed to a framed photo on the counter. “Who’s that?”
“That’s my daughter, Fiona.”
Kyra’s lips formed an O. “She’s cute. I didn’t know you had a daughter. Didn’t know you had a wife.”
“Once upon a time before we got divorced.”
Several emotions played across Kyra’s face at once, ending with a furrowed brow. “Does your daughter stay with your ex?”
“She does. In Monterey. My ex remarried.” He schooled the bitterness from his voice before he continued. “She married one of the partners in her law firm and he relocated up there, so she took Fiona and moved.”
“You didn’t have any say in it?”
“I approved of it.” He tossed back the rest of the beer, but it couldn’t douse the bitterness this time. “I was a lousy father, anyway.”
“You mean you were a busy father.” She planted her hands on the granite counter and hunched forward. “I doubt you were a lousy father any more than Quinn would’ve been a lousy father.”
He met her eyes; the iciness had melted into pools of soothing balm. Was this the way she looked at her clients to assure them they weren’t losers who needed some stranger to talk with to sort out their sorry lives?
He grunted. “Why do you care?”
“Maybe I’m just trying to apologize for causing you so much grief tonight even though it would’ve had the same outcome whether I’d intervened or not. You would’ve found Matt in the same condition I did.”
He scraped the soggy blue foil label from his
