Page 16 of Baxter's Right-Hand Man

Okay, that was a crude and inelegant exit, completely lacking in finesse, grace, or style, but oooh, that man grinded my gears. How dare he accuse me of being the mastermind behind some warped star-catcher scheme! And did he really have the nerve to turn my concerns regarding his intentions with Mr. Gowan on me and infer thatIwas responsible for orchestrating…this?Me?

I was so mad I couldn’t see straight. I pulled my keys from my man bag and marched past the armed guard chauffeuring Mr. High and Mighty. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to flip him off on my way to my car, but I couldn’t resist flashing one last killer glare his way.

I hoped to God I never saw that man again.

Ever. Ever. Ever.

3

PIERCE

“What was that all about?”

I fastened my seat belt with more care than necessary and surreptitiously watched the hot-heated cutie stomp away. “Nothing. He was just…curious about our intentions.”

Janet snorted. “You mean he wants to know how he can cash in.”

I grunted, turning my attention to my cell, hopefully signaling that I was officially out of words. I didn’t want to talk. Period. I needed a few minutes to process what had just gone down. Meeting a phony long-lost family member who somehow had a fucking photo of my mother had put me off my game, and grinning along like it was all no big deal had required some serious acting chops.

Christ, some days I was better at my job than anyone suspected.

The SUV pulled out of the driveway, pausing to wait for a car to pass before easing onto the residential street. And there he was again, angrily flinging open the door of his BMW and tossing his bag onto the passenger seat. He was pissed, and I was…shook.

I didn’t know what to think. I mean, sure, his presence might have been a weird coincidence, and he might be exactly what he claimed to be…a friend. It was just that everyone I knew had an angle.

I’d admit, there was a chance that playing a fictitious crime buster and justice leaguer had given me a false sense of righteousness. Maybe accusing Lorenzo of being a puppeteer had been too harsh.

Was I a dick? Probably. But I sensed something was off. No one fucked with my mom’s memory to get to me. No way. Maybe it was best to walk away and forget about it, but this felt like a potential loose end, and I couldn’t afford to have another one of those pop up now.

Fuck.

Seb’s secretary, Trish, had told me the waiter and my female companion at the Golden Globes had recently met with casting directors. Then she’d hit me with one of those motherly sighs and a sad smile that wordlessly begged me to get my shit together. I was trying.

I shot one last look at Lorenzo. Damn it, he was hot—olive skin, dark hair, pretty brown eyes, a sexy mouth…and a sharp tongue.

I figured there were two possible scenarios. A, he was bad news and part of some weird scheme with the nurse, or B, he was a great guy who just happened to be buddies with my mom’s faux cousin and it was all an odd coincidence.

Did it matter? If I were smart, I’d let it go and concentrate on being a model citizen.

Janet had me signed up to do a surprise pop-in at a beach cleanup on Saturday and an interview for an environmental magazine that wanted my take on energy initiatives. Beach, no worries. Energy initiatives? What the fuck? I was going to have to study for that one, but that was okay. I needed to keep my mind busy and ideally not overthink the fact that everything in my life was smoke and mirrors—nothing was real.

Even that photo.

Yes, that was my mom in that picture…before she got sick, but in my gut, I knew I wasn’t related to Jasper Gowan. Maybe he’d lied just to meet me. Trust me, stranger things had happened. He didn’t seem like the type, though, and I was sure Janet had vetted him.

“What did you find out about the old man?” I asked, breaking the silence in the luxury SUV.

Janet set her iPad facedown on her lap and shifted in her seat. “He’s eighty-five years old. He was an engineer for an aerospace—”

“You told me all that. I’m not talking about his age or profession. I mean, what about his reputation? You checked him out, right?”

“Of course, I checked him out. I wouldn’t have lasted five minutes in my position if I didn’t verify every detail and present it all to Seb on a silver platter. You know that,” she said, sounding miffed.

“True. So?” I prodded.

“He’s a pillar of the community. His partner died twelve years ago, he never had a family of his own, and the people he’s closest to now are well into their eighties and nineties—other than the younger man who stayed in the room while you were chatting.” Janet cocked her head. “Do you think he’s Gowan’s boy toy?”

“No,” I replied automatically.