Night Moves by Desiree Holt Page B

the door.
    Brian’s office was at the end of the hall and was a reflection of the man himself. A wide desk with a black granite top set on chrome legs was angled at one corner, a high-back ergonomic chair behind it. In front of it were two client chairs in ebony upholstered in black and white tweed. A black leather couch ran along one wall. A side extension of the desk held not just one but four computers, all with the Sentinel logo blinking on their screens.
    He gestured towards one of the client chairs and sat down easily behind the desk, watching her. “All right, Miss Matthews, let’s hear what your problem is and see if we can help with it. You mentioned on the phone that Linda Gillette had recommended us, so I’m going to assume you’re familiar with our services.”
    She wet her lips nervously, once again wondering if this was such a great idea. She, who found most men either boring or abrasive, was imagining the kind of services she’d like from this man, and they had nothing to do with investigation or detecting.
    NIGHT MOVES
    Desiree Holt
    9
     
    “It’s probably nothing,” she began, trying to get herself on track. “And I’m not someone given to jumping at every little thing. I’m an assistant prosecutor with the homicide unit.
    Very little scares me.”
    Brian shook his head. “Almost every client who walks in here says something similar. If it was nothing, you wouldn’t be sitting across from me. So tell me what’s going on.”
    “All right.” She uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, doing her best not to let her skirt ride up, especially when she saw his eyes drop to the exposed area of thigh, a faint flame flickering in them. “I seem to have picked up a stalker.”
    “A stalker.” Those eyes seemed glued to her face, and with an unexpected jolt, her nipples hardened and moisture dampened her panties.
    Holy shit, Regan! This is a business appointment. Your life might be in danger and the guy you want to hire is waking up your almost dead hormones?
    “I think so. It started with hang-up calls at night. One then another, until now, it’s every night. Then I got a couple of text messages on my cell, followed by three emails to my personal email address.”
    “So…someone who obviously knows you.”
    She shrugged. “A frightening thought. And now, he’s taken to leaving messages under my windshield wipers.” She pulled the most recent note from her purse and handed it to him. “This is why I decided to call you.”
    Brian studied the note. “ You’re dead, bitch. You can’t run away from me now,” he read.
    “Seems pretty explicit to me. You were smart to call us. What else can you tell me?”
    Regan shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “I think maybe…that is, on a couple of nights, I was sure I heard someone outside my house, but when I looked out the windows, I couldn’t catch any movement. I turned on all the lights, so maybe if there was someone out there, it scared them away. And no one’s broken into my house. At least, not so far.”
    “Anything else? Any actual attempts or just warnings?”
    “The other night in the rain, I thought someone was trying to run me off the road, but it could have just been the wet pavement.”
    “That’s always a good cover up,” he pointed out. “Anything you’ve left out?”
    She wrinkled her forehead, trying to think. “I don’t know. I haven’t exactly been keeping track.”
    NIGHT MOVES
    Desiree Holt
    10
     
    “I would imagine being someone who handles high profile cases would put you in the line of fire a lot.”
    Regan leaned forward in her chair. “Listen, Mr. Spencer—”
    “Brian,” he interrupted. “We’re big on informality here.”
    “All right. Listen, Brian. In my job, you get nutcases threatening you all the time so I tend to disregard most of it. And I’m usually quite good at taking care of myself.”
    “So what makes this one different?”
    “Usually the perps I put away, or whose lives I make miserable,