A muscle ticked in his jaw as he glared at the mirrors.
“Is she okay? Your staff member?”
His gaze returned to me. Guarded. Wary. “Eredine.” He pronounced it Ery-deen. “Yoga instructor, among other things. Finished classes this morning and returned for her afternoon sessions to find the place like this.”
“And is this definitely about you, not her?”
“No. I’m certain it’s another attack on me. The other messages were also found in random areas of the estate, except for one.”
“Have you called the police?”
“I’m just about to.”
“Can you hold off?” I raised my camera, which hung heavily around my neck on its strap. “Do you mind?”
Lachlan took the last step that separated us, so I had to tilt my head to meet his cool gaze. “Mac sent you?”
I could tell by his tone that he wasn’t happy with the prospect of me taking over for Mac.
“Yeah. He wants to continue investigating. I made a deal with him. He rests up, and I do all the legwork. We figure out the case together.”
Adair bit out a curse. “The man should be convalescing.”
“Would you?” I raised an eyebrow. “If some asshole, most probably one you know, stabbed you and threatened the people you cared about, could you just sit back and do nothing?”
Releasing a heavy exhale, Adair retreated and waved to the room. “Have at it. But be quick. I need to let the detectives see this so we can make repairs as quickly as possible.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t want your club members to miss out on their yoga.” I snapped pictures of the vandalized room.
“I don’t want Eredine to be afraid of this space. It’s her space. I want it returned to that immediately.”
I looked up from my camera. Adair was furious about this. But more so for this mysterious Eredine. I wondered if they were in a relationship. “Can I talk to her? I’d like to piece together what happened here.”
“No.”
That was emphatic. “Adair, I’m investigating a crime scene. I need to speak to the witness.”
He narrowed his eyes, practically shooting hate fire at me. “Only if Eredine agrees.”
“Well, yeah.” I wouldn’t bully anyone into talking to me, for Christ’s sake.
The man grunted and strode out of the studio while I continued to take photographs of the space. I had to admit, I could see the appeal in coming to work out in a place like this. The sliding windows, when they weren’t cracked, looked out over the tranquil loch. I could imagine this was the perfect place to meditate, when it wasn’t wrecked to shit with red spray paint and a creepy message.
Jock and the security guy accompanying him moved out of my way as I catalogued every piece of damage I could find. Then I zoomed in on the spray paint to take photographs of the message. I wanted to match them up with the other messages, see if the graffiti was by the same person.
Adair’s voice startled me. “Eredine will speak to you.”
I lowered the camera to find him scowling again. “Great. Lead the way.”
“Before I do … if she starts to get upset, you back off.”
I was sympathetic to his yoga instructor and what she’d been through, but he needed to be sensible. “You do know the police will want to talk to her when they get here?”
He didn’t reply. Just stalked out of the studio.
It was hard not to roll my eyes as I followed him. There should be a picture of him next to the word brooding in the dictionary.
Broody was never my thing. I liked a guy with a sense of humor. Which was one of the many reasons me and Mark did not survive past the six-month point.
“Lose the camera,” Adair threw over his shoulder.
Lose it where? My camera was expensive and precious.
Sighing, I noted that although Jock was on the phone to the police, he watched us, so I whipped off the camera and handed it to him. “Be careful with that,” I mouthed.
He winked, and that sign of life—of humor—at Ardnoch made me smile.
Adair led me down a gravel path that followed the lochside. We passed a couple of small cabins with great views of the water until we came to one situated farther away from the others on its own at the western side. I followed him up the decked porch and waited behind him as he knocked.
The door swung open, and I hid my surprise.
Lucy Wainwright stood before us.
Lucy “America’s Sweetheart” Wainwright.
“Luce.” Adair squeezed her shoulder as she stepped aside to let us in. He didn’t look back as he begrudgingly introduced me. “This is Mac’s daughter, Robyn.”
To my bemusement, Lucy’s stunning, cat-shaped blue eyes widened as I stepped inside. She held out a flawlessly manicured hand. Thin gold rings covered nearly every finger. From her jewelry choices to her monochrome outfit of black silk shirt and white wide-leg pants that no ordinary human being could make look good, Lucy Wainwright screamed chic style and money.
Not surprising.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
“And you.” She peered closely at me. “Wow, you have Mac’s gorgeous eyes.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Adair emphatically denied as he stopped in front of a young woman seated in the living room.
“Yeah, I do.” I crossed my arms over my chest, shocked by his belligerent denial.
“She does,” Lucy insisted. “I doubt you would have noticed. Heterosexual guys don’t go around staring into each other’s eyes, right?”
Adair’s answer was to squint at me. I could feel him studying my eyes. His intense perusal made me uncomfortable, so I focused past him.
The young woman sitting on a small sofa was a beauty.
It shouldn’t surprise me that Adair, an ex-Hollywood god, would be surrounded by the most stunning women in the world. But seeing them all in one place was kind of unnerving. Was this what living in LA was like?
“You must be Eredine,” I said, keeping my tone light.
A tormented expression in her large green eyes made me realize Adair hadn’t been exaggerating about her reaction. Either she was
