Lisa Stanley. Oscar’s sister is outside. She’s halfway up the steps to our porch, but she appears to have stopped to speak with Myles.
“I just thought I would swing by to check on the house. And the Basseys, of course,” she says brightly. “The broken window is being replaced tomorrow and I wanted to make sure they’ll be here to let the men in.”
Myles’s grunt reaches me through the door. My mouth tugs at one end.
I’m starting to enjoy his caveman sound effects.
The silence ticks by.
“Anyway,” Lisa sings awkwardly. “I’m sure you’re busy with the investigation we hired you for…”
“I’ll be coming in with you. I have some questions to ask you, anyway.”
The bounty hunter’s tone leaves no room for discussion. Is he…suspicious of Lisa? Before that question is fully formed, I’m shaking my head. Of course he’s suspicious of her. Everyone is a suspect to Myles. Except us now, thankfully.
Not wanting to be discovered hovering behind the door, I open it and give Lisa a sad smile. I can’t imagine what this week has been like for her. “Hi Lisa. How are you?”
She’s obviously relieved to see me after Myles’s abrupt greeting. “I’m hanging in there, darling. How are you?”
I’m slightly caught off guard when Oscar’s sister embraces me. With my chin unexpectedly perched on her shoulder, I watch Myles jolt forward on the stairs, his fingers flexing at his sides, like he wants to reach for me. Or us? What is up with him?
“Hey Myles,” I murmur.
He dips his chin at me, his gaze intense but guarded. “Taylor.”
I tug out of Lisa’s arms and gesture to the house. Through the screen door, I can hear Jude hobbling in from the backyard. “We’re about to have tacos if you want to join us. I just have to brown the meat.”
“Oh no, I won’t keep you,” Lisa says, rubbing at the back of her neck. Probably because Myles is drilling a hole in it with his eyes. Oscar’s sister glances back at him with noticeable nerves. “Will you be here tomorrow between one and three? I just need you to let in the window guys for a few hours.”
“Of course. I’ll make sure one of us is here.”
Jude darkens the doorway to my right and holds out two uncapped beers to our visitors. “Thank God you’re both here,” says my brother. “Someone has to help us drink all this beer.”
Chuckling, Lisa only hesitates a second before wrapping her hand around one of the bottles. “I’ll just have a few sips. Lord knows I earned it. Today has been the day from hell. The second one this week!”
I gesture for Lisa to come inside and she glides past me, linking her arm with the one Jude offers. He explains his injury to our temporary landlord on their way over to the kitchen where Jude offers her one of the stools placed in a row along the island, then takes one across from her. Myles watches them over the top of my head, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“What is up with you?” I whisper.
“Just stay close to me.”
He doesn’t give me a choice. He’s hot on my heels all the way back to the kitchen, positioning himself with a hip against the counter adjacent to the stove. His attention seems to be everywhere at once. On Lisa, on the meat I’m cooking. He tips my elbow up a little when I’m adding the chili powder and I smack his hand away—and the action causes an immediate pause in Lisa and Jude’s conversation.
“You two certainly seem to be well acquainted,” Lisa remarks, turning my face crimson.
“That buoy was a clear threat. She could have been hurt.” He is staring at Lisa with such intense speculation, it’s a wonder she hasn’t burst into flames. “I plan to find out who did it. In the meantime, the Barnstable PD can’t spare a patrol car to watch their Connecticut asses, so it’s just going to be me. For now.”
“You requested protection for us?” I ask, my spatula suspended in animation.
“I asked for protection in addition to me. I wouldn’t trust you to someone else.” He takes a long pull of his beer. “You’re going to burn that meat, half pint.”
So I am.
I fumble with the burner knob, twisting it into the off position. “What do you care if I incinerate it? You said you wouldn’t have dinner with us.”
“That was before I smelled what’s going on here.” He jerks his chin at the kitchen island where I’ve set up the taco bar. “You pickling those onions?”