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“Good. I’m looking forward to it.” He settled into one of the striped armchairs, glanced over at them. “Go on and do what you need to. Pretend I’m not here.”
“That’s asking the impossible,” Cath muttered.
“Because he’s so handsome,” Bea piped up.
Cath gestured to her bookkeeper to join her in the stockroom. As soon as she closed the door, Bea crossed her arms. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Testosterone overload.” Cath leaned her back against the door.
“That’s never possible.”
“Did you have any phone messages when you opened up?”
Bea tapped her chin. “A couple of inquiries. Why?”
“I was hoping my brother might have called.” Cath pinched the bridge of her nose. She’d called or sent Les a message every hour on the hour. He’d never responded. Not once.
“Don’t tell me he’s in more trouble?”
Cath straightened off the door. “My brother neglected to tell me he missed his court date. Mitch is a bounty hunter and he came to my house to arrest him, but Les escaped. Now Mitch is looking for him.”
Bea opened the door. Mitch’s long legs stretched across their field of vision. “So, what’s he doing here? Why is he going on your tour today?”
When she’d told Mitch she didn’t know where to find Les, he’d appeared to believe her. But maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was harassing her now because of the drugs he’d found in her brother’s backpack. Or something else. She didn’t know how the blasted man’s mind worked. “That’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.”
* * *
Standing around a cemetery ranked with sitting in a troop transport on a flight to the Middle East, but Mitch could hack it until noon.
He had to.
He’d promised Kurt he’d give the sister a little more time to fess up to what she knew. He’d tried to keep things easy and tease his way out of any resistance, but nothing seemed to work with Cath Hurley. Since they’d left her house this morning, she’d dug a moat around the walls already up. His only victory seemed to be that he’d managed to keep his hands off her delectable body.
Which was crazy. With her long delicate arms and willowy figure, she wasn’t anywhere near his type. And if he didn’t turn up any new intel on his fugitive today, he would tell her goodbye and find another approach. Fast. Before the clock on his bounty ran out.
“Look around. Take some pictures if you want.” Cath walked her tourists past the family tombs with their marble angels in St. Louis Cemetery No. 3. “I’ll meet you all back at the bus in fifteen minutes.”
Her middle-aged customers drifted off, but Mitch had checked them all out earlier. None of them appeared to be as obnoxious as the silver-haired jerk who’d stopped them outside the Crescent City Haunts office. He hadn’t treated Cath any better himself, taking advantage of her business manager’s interest to stay put, and a nasty taste clogged his throat.
She probably hated him, too, but he needed to get her back on his side. Somehow. “I already know who’s buried here.”
Dammit. Not that. A dull ache started behind his breastbone, and he forced himself to inhale.
“Is that so?” Cath turned. “Some of your other arrests gone wrong?”
So far, he hadn’t made a one. “Not exactly.”
“Oops. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”
“Don’t worry. My nerves are tucked in bed holding the covers over their heads.” That had been the only way to survive his Ranger missions. Don’t feel. Execute.
She nodded and crossed her arms. “Now I understand. That’s how you can do what you do. Break into people’s houses and grab college students off the couch.”
“Then burn a hand and get sliced up.”
Her smug look softened, and her blue eyes glowed with more warmth than he’d yet seen. “I gave you ice.”
“Which I appreciated.” He inspected his hand. “It looks better today.”