Page 39

Zach’s head snapped up. He glared. “Guilt trip? Iamguilty. I was hired to protect—”

The office door opened, and Arlisse appeared, bearing a small wooden tray with two coffee mugs and miniature-sized accoutrements.

She set the tray on Flint’s desk and said to no one in particular, “Just a reminder that these walls are thinner than the bargain brand toilet tissue in the restroom.”

Flint growled, “Is there anyone in the waiting room?”

“I continue to hope.”

“I continue to pay your salary,” Flint retorted.

“Is that what you call it?”

Having had the last word, Arlisse let the door fall closed behind her.

Flint reached into his desk drawer and removed a small silver flask. He uncapped the flask and splashed…well, going by the standard tropes, rye whisky? in his mug.

Zach said, “Now there’s a cliché.” Adding hastily, “None for—”

Flint had already splashed amber liquid into the second mug. “Relax. It’s a vitamin B wellness tonic.”

“Isit?”

Flint laughed. “Hell no.” He sipped from the first mug. “Drink your coffee, Zachariah.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need to be hammered at nine in the morning.”

Flint spluttered into his coffee. “You’d have to be six years old to get hammered on half a shot of Bushmills.” Zach opened his mouth, and Flint sighed. “Listen, you’re in shock, understandably, so just this one single, solitary time will you please forgo the chance to argue?”

Lips compressed, Zach leaned over, tore open a packet of sugar and emptied it into his coffee, splashed in a tiny capsule of half-and-half, ripped open the stir stick and briskly stirred, then sat back with his mug. He sipped the whisky-laced brew and said shortly, “I don’t always argue about everything.”

Flint’s mouth twitched, but he preserved his all-business-all-the-time expression. “If it helps, I didn’t see this coming either.”

“It doesn’t help,” Zach replied.

Flint sighed. “I know.”

“I failed my client in the worst possible way.”

Flint’s eyes narrowed. “Then youwerehis bodyguard?”

“No, but—”

“Then youweren’this bodyguard?”

Zach stared at Flint’s hard, impassive face. “No, I wasn’t, but…” Maybe it was the whisky. Maybe it was the unexpected understanding in Flint’s gaze. But some of the tightness eased in Zach’s chest. He felt like he could finally take a full breath again.

He said, more shakily than he’d have liked, “I know what you’re trying to do, Flint, and I…but Alton expected me to find out who was behind the threats. He was relying onmeto figure that out so he could take the steps to protect himself.”

“Okay.” Flint nodded in acknowledgment. “You spent plenty of time with him, so you can answer this better than I can. My impression, watching you two together last night, was Alton was not in fear of his life. In fact, if anything, he was going out of his way to provoke a response from his wife.”

Zach continued to regard Flint, but he was looking inward, reviewing the long, weird weekend with Alton, remembering the way Alton kept brushing him off every time he tried to bring up the investigation. That had become a pattern early on. He turned his thoughts to the evening before.

He said slowly, “He was nervous, uneasy, after Zora showed up at dinner. I think he was a little afraid. Then.”

“Maybe because the missus was acting out of character? She’s supposed to be chained to the estate by acrophobia, right?”

“Agoraphobia. Acrophobia is fear of heights.”