courtesy of a Japanese mother, were etched with a touch of chagrin. “Just doing a friend a favor. And don’t worry about the payment, you’ll get it.”
Troy smirked, but managed to hold in his snappy comeback. The look in his friend’s eyes said it wouldn’t be appreciated. And there was little worse than an unappreciated snappy comeback.
His gaze wandered back to the photo, staring so innocently up from the faux wood tabletop. Troy ran his finger around the top of his water glass, chewing on his bottom lip in thought.
“So what am I supposed to do? Go talk to Rafe?”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that. As far as Mark knows, Rafe has no clue he even exists.”
“Seems to me like Rafe might want to know he’s got a brother around, particularly with his folks dead.”
“Yeah, well, Mark says no go on that front.”
Troy shrugged. Made no matter to him. What the client wanted and all that shit. Sometimes he really hated being a private investigator. He kind of understood where the nickname private dick came from, ’cause there were times—many, many times— where his job forced him to be a real bastard.
Unfortunately, even without knowing any more details, he had the feeling this job was going to be one of them. Figures. Rafe was really, really hot. He would have liked to get to know the man in a more…personal setting.
“I already know I’m not going to like this, so lay it out for me. Talk real slow and use short words.”
“You’re a jerk.”
“Thank you.”
“Mark wants dirt on his brother. What he does, where he goes, the best places to apply pressure. He wants to know everything about his brother, from what he likes to eat to who he likes to fuck. Anything that might give Mark an edge when we take this to court. And particularly anything that might persuade Rafe to settle out of court.”
Troy rubbed his eyes, feeling weariness seep into his bones. See, this was why he had planned to take this week as his vacation. Leave the cell phone behind, head for the beach, and just forget real life for a couple of days.
“We make a great pair,” he said with disgust. “A couple of slimeballs extraordinaire.”
Ken threw up his hands. “Hey, if you don’t want the job, just say so.”
Troy dropped his head against the back of the booth, a low grunt escaping him when his skull connected with the firm padding a little harder than he’d intended. “You know I’m not going to turn you down,” he said, staring at the water stains in the ceiling tiles.
“I know. We’re getting you in as a consultant, to go over the ranch’s books. Apparently, Morgan’s looking to make some big changes and wants a thorough audit. Works out well for us, anyway.”
“Yeah, just fantastic.” And Ken would have to know the only PI in town capable of pulling that role off. Damn his dad anyway for making him finish that degree in bookkeeping and accounting. It may have been fifteen years ago, but he still remembered how it all worked. Hell, he dealt with enough paperwork just running his own office to keep himself current.
Ken glanced at his watch and grimaced. “My paycheck beckons. I’ll leave the file with you. Mark’s number is in there if you want to get anything else from him. He’ll be checking in occasionally to see how it’s all going.”
“All this and you’re going to make me deal directly with the client, too?”
Ken shrugged. “It’s a tough world.”
“Damn right it is.”
Ken gathered up his stuff, carefully tucked away his Styrofoam container of leftovers, and left.
Troy rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. He needed to start giving serious consideration to a career change. The divorce cases were bad enough, but he truly hated all this family shit. As someone who didn’t have much family left himself, Troy had learned long ago to appreciate what he did have. It always made him a bit nauseous to see families go at it. It shouldn’t work like that.
He really hated his life. He
Troy smirked, but managed to hold in his snappy comeback. The look in his friend’s eyes said it wouldn’t be appreciated. And there was little worse than an unappreciated snappy comeback.
His gaze wandered back to the photo, staring so innocently up from the faux wood tabletop. Troy ran his finger around the top of his water glass, chewing on his bottom lip in thought.
“So what am I supposed to do? Go talk to Rafe?”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that. As far as Mark knows, Rafe has no clue he even exists.”
“Seems to me like Rafe might want to know he’s got a brother around, particularly with his folks dead.”
“Yeah, well, Mark says no go on that front.”
Troy shrugged. Made no matter to him. What the client wanted and all that shit. Sometimes he really hated being a private investigator. He kind of understood where the nickname private dick came from, ’cause there were times—many, many times— where his job forced him to be a real bastard.
Unfortunately, even without knowing any more details, he had the feeling this job was going to be one of them. Figures. Rafe was really, really hot. He would have liked to get to know the man in a more…personal setting.
“I already know I’m not going to like this, so lay it out for me. Talk real slow and use short words.”
“You’re a jerk.”
“Thank you.”
“Mark wants dirt on his brother. What he does, where he goes, the best places to apply pressure. He wants to know everything about his brother, from what he likes to eat to who he likes to fuck. Anything that might give Mark an edge when we take this to court. And particularly anything that might persuade Rafe to settle out of court.”
Troy rubbed his eyes, feeling weariness seep into his bones. See, this was why he had planned to take this week as his vacation. Leave the cell phone behind, head for the beach, and just forget real life for a couple of days.
“We make a great pair,” he said with disgust. “A couple of slimeballs extraordinaire.”
Ken threw up his hands. “Hey, if you don’t want the job, just say so.”
Troy dropped his head against the back of the booth, a low grunt escaping him when his skull connected with the firm padding a little harder than he’d intended. “You know I’m not going to turn you down,” he said, staring at the water stains in the ceiling tiles.
“I know. We’re getting you in as a consultant, to go over the ranch’s books. Apparently, Morgan’s looking to make some big changes and wants a thorough audit. Works out well for us, anyway.”
“Yeah, just fantastic.” And Ken would have to know the only PI in town capable of pulling that role off. Damn his dad anyway for making him finish that degree in bookkeeping and accounting. It may have been fifteen years ago, but he still remembered how it all worked. Hell, he dealt with enough paperwork just running his own office to keep himself current.
Ken glanced at his watch and grimaced. “My paycheck beckons. I’ll leave the file with you. Mark’s number is in there if you want to get anything else from him. He’ll be checking in occasionally to see how it’s all going.”
“All this and you’re going to make me deal directly with the client, too?”
Ken shrugged. “It’s a tough world.”
“Damn right it is.”
Ken gathered up his stuff, carefully tucked away his Styrofoam container of leftovers, and left.
Troy rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. He needed to start giving serious consideration to a career change. The divorce cases were bad enough, but he truly hated all this family shit. As someone who didn’t have much family left himself, Troy had learned long ago to appreciate what he did have. It always made him a bit nauseous to see families go at it. It shouldn’t work like that.
He really hated his life. He
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