“How did you get my keys? And how did you know this was my car?”
“You left your keys on your kitchen counter when you went upstairs. And I was behind you this morning when you parked.” He pulled the loaner away from the curb. Theresa’s BMW wasn’t in the driveway. Still, I relaxed when her house disappeared in my side mirror. “That was a pretty sloppy B and E, by the way. You’re lucky you didn’t get caught.”
I gaped at him. “You knew I was stuck in that house with her, and you did nothing?”
“That would be aiding and abetting.”
“I wasn’t a criminal,” I said stubbornly. “I had a key.”
His lip curled with a self-satisfied grin. “I’ll admit your getaway was impressive.”
“That was Vero’s idea. And it was your fault I was in her house.”
“My fault?” He swung Ramón’s car into a fast-food drive-through.
“You told me to dig into her secrets. So I was digging.”
He chuckled darkly. “And what’d you find?”
“Nothing. She came home right after I got there.” It was unnerving how perceptive he was. How he always seemed to be one step in front of me.
Nick ordered two burgers for himself, then called my order into the intercom. He ate both of his as we drove, which made me feel better that Delia was wrong and at least this wasn’t a date. I scarfed down my burger and fries, watching the buildings roll by as Nick turned down a side street and slowed as we passed Theresa’s real estate office.
“Where are we going?” I asked, crumpling my wrappers and dumping them in the empty bag. The car braked and swung around, flinging me against the side panel as Nick made an illegal U-turn.
“You wanted to play detective, right? I’m taking you on a real stakeout.” He pulled the loaner car to the curb and cut off the engine. The burger turned to cement in my stomach.
“Why are we staking out Theresa if the bartender said that it wasn’t her in the bar?”
Nick wiped his greasy fingers on a napkin, his eyes raking the parking lot until he spotted Theresa’s car. “Because I think they’re both hiding something, and I want to know who she was with that night.”
“How are we going to do that?”
He reclined his seat back, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes. “We’re going to wait for her boyfriend to show up.”
* * *
Twenty minutes passed. I was pretty sure Nick spent most of it with his eyes closed, a ball cap draped loosely over them. At least now I understood why he hadn’t ordered us anything to drink.
“What am I supposed to be looking for anyway?” The vinyl seat creaked as I tried and failed to get comfortable. If I reclined my seat back as far as Nick had, neither one of us would be able to see.
His voice was groggy when he finally answered. “Just tell me when Feliks’s Lincoln shows up.”
My spine went rigid. “Feliks?” I plucked the cap off Nick’s face. “So all this time you knew who Theresa’s client was? At what point were you planning to tell me?”
Nick opened one eye, a lazy grin carving a dimple in his cheek. “You never asked.”
“What else have you figured out that you haven’t told me?”
He opened his other eye and stretched, his arms reaching for the ceiling behind him. He laced his fingers behind his head, his knees bent slightly on either side of the steering wheel and his jacket hanging open around the gun holstered against his ribs. “I know Theresa’s client is a man named Feliks Zhirov. He’s very wealthy, very powerful, and very deep in organized crime. And, according to our guys in criminal intelligence, Feliks has Harris Mickler’s accounting firm on retainer.”
A nervous laugh slipped out. “That’s probably a coincidence, right?”
Nick drew on his cap, curling the bill over his eyes. “When it comes to the mob, there are very few coincidences. Unfortunately, the man’s made of Teflon. Nothing sticks. He should’ve been locked up a dozen times, but there isn’t a judge in the state with the balls to convict him. Even if we could, he has friends that can make almost anyone disappear … new name, new passport, and wipe them off the map as if they’d never existed. He’d skip bail, and we’d never see or hear the name Feliks Zhirov again.”
“What does he want with Theresa?”
“That’s what I plan to find out.” As if reading my face, he sighed and said, “Look, Finlay. I’m not trying to ruin Steven’s life, or even Theresa’s. If Feliks is involved in Mickler’s disappearance, then I’m guessing Theresa’s a victim in all this too somehow. I promise, we’ll figure it out. And you and your kids will be okay. I plan to keep the three of you as far out of the investigation as possible. Georgia made me swear to it.”