Headstrong (9 page)

“She’s a nutjob. And all this is her fault, mark my words.” He circled a finger in the air to indicate the music and the activity.

“Maybe, but how’s that a problem? I mean, when’s the last time you saw either of them having this much fun?” Annie nodded to their brother and mother.

Reece frowned.

“Come on. This place has been Depression Central for the past year. Don’t knock the woman if this is what she’s doing to the family.” Annie mussed his hair again and went to join the nonsense, adding over her shoulder, “Lighten up, Reecie.”

After a few minutes, the jukebox ran out of songs and the excitement wound down. Reece rose and approached the partygoers.

Colin grinned. “Gidday, Reece? Mum was showing us how to do the Hustle. Libby is an
atrocious
dancer.”

“It’s not my fault my legs are like ten feet long,” she cut back.

“How did this…materialize?” Reece asked.

“We were watching
Dirty Dancing
on the telly after lunch, and you know that lift-thing in it?” Colin asked. “We were trying that out down here when Mum got in.”

Here their mother piped up. “And I said, ‘You want to see dancing?’ Oh, your father and I used to have a knees-up every weekend before you kids came along. Those
were the days.”

Annie was right… Reece couldn’t remember the last time their mother had looked this happy, nor the last time there’d been this much life and energy in the pub. He surrendered a small, grudging scrap of gratitude to Libby.

Around four thirty the storm let up enough for Annie and the baby to finally make a run for their car. Libby strolled to the door, prepared to hold it open for them. She got distracted by a framed portrait on the wall of a handsome, smiling man with beefy 1970s sideburns, surely the Nolan family’s late patriarch and the pub’s namesake. She turned to where Mrs. Nolan was tidying up around the bar.

“Damn, Marjorie—Paul was a fox.”

Marjorie brightened in an instant. “Oh, that he was! That was taken the day this place opened, for a story in the paper. The same week Annie was born.”

“Careful, don’t date me, Mum,” Annie added, bundling up her daughter.

Marjorie rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, thirty-four is such a scandal. All my girlfriends wanted to date Paul back in the old days.” She grinned, her expression warm and smug. “He was the best-looking bloke in Wellington, if I do say so myself.”

Libby looked back to the photo. There was a bit of both Reece and Colin in their father’s face. More of Colin. Reece lacked that easy, effortless charm. His smile rarely extended beyond his mouth, and those eyes always stayed glacial—always cold and just out of reach.

Libby held the door as Annie and the baby brushed past, tendering goodbyes. She headed to the table where Reece was sorting through the day’s mail and took a seat across from him. His eyes acknowledged her before darting back to the pile of envelopes and bar-supply catalogs.

“Have I overstayed my welcome?” Libby asked, in a soft voice that wasn’t her own but that she hoped might work on Reece.

He gave her another scan, and his mouth tightened with some emotion or other. “You’re not far off,” he said, but in a milder tone than she’d expected.

“I’ll head out soon. The storm’s almost let up.”

“Good.”

“Any thoughts about my offer?”

“I’ve heard what you have to say. Please stop asking me about it.” He slit open an invoice and made a grim face.

“Okay. I guess I better get my stuff together. See how my boat’s looking.”

“You probably should.” He kept his attention on the paper, though his still eyes told her he wasn’t reading.

“Well thanks, anyway. For putting up with me staying.” She slid off her seat and paused. “You’ve got a really great family, you know.”

“I know.”

“If I had a family like yours, I never would have left the States.”

He seemed to ponder this comment but didn’t reply or meet her gaze. Libby turned away, knowing it was the most sincere thing she’d managed to say in a long time, and praying it didn’t show.

Reece couldn’t decide if the ocean felt more or less threatening at night. More, judging by the way his heart was hammering his ribs. Or perhaps it was just the long, humiliating march down the main dock that made his stomach churn this way.

He found Libby’s boat easily—it was the only one lit, the glow from inside revealing it to be turquoise with white trim, some kind of converted fishing boat. Libby’s surfboard was locked into a rack along one side. Reece wasn’t sure of the etiquette for calling on someone who lived in a marina but after taking a ragged, fear-tightened breath, he strode up the little gangway to the side of the cabin and knocked.

Libby came to the door a moment later, her mouth dropping open when she saw who was calling.

“Well, this is a surprise.” She leaned against the doorframe with a cricket bat in one hand and scanned Reece lewdly. The softness he’d caught in her when she’d left the pub was long gone, flirtation back with a vengeance.

“Can I have a word?” he asked.

“Sure.” She winked, if he wasn’t mistaken, and propped the bat against the wall.

Reece followed her into the small cabin, most of which was taken up by a foldaway couch, which in turn had a table that folded out from its baseboard. There were books strewn across it, and a radio was quietly reporting the hour’s news. Reece glanced at a messy pile of papers with formulas scrawled all over them. Libby caught him and covered the pages with a notebook.

“What’s with the bat?” he asked.

She glanced at it and shrugged. “A girl’s got to defend herself. Never know who’s going to turn up at your boat late at night, looking to come aboard.” She batted her lashes with exaggerated innocence. “So, what can I do you for?”

She had on nerdy horn-rimmed reading glasses which she now pushed onto the top of her head. She was dressed to lounge in boxers and a long-sleeved T-shirt, flip-flops on her feet. Her wild hair was pulled back into a sloppy bun, pinned in place by what Reece could swear was a candy cane. He noticed another one, half-eaten, on the table beside a tired-looking cup of coffee.

Libby caught his puzzled expression and slid a large tub full of them toward him with her foot.

“No thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” She flopped onto the couch.

“Looks like you survived the storm all right then?”

“Not too bad… You seem nervous,” she added, gloating.

Reece felt the boat move beneath him and decided to let her believe she was the sole cause of his uneasiness. He didn’t like the idea of Libby having too much personal ammo to use against him.

She picked up her candy and peeled the plastic down in an unlikely gesture of seduction.

Reece kept his face blank. “You’ll rot your teeth out on those.”

“Maybe, but I got two hundred of them for like a buck-fifty. And no offense to your hemisphere or anything, but you can’t eat Christmas candy in the summer. These are just coming into season.” She bit an inch off and set the rest down. “So, what can I do you for?”

“I want to discuss your offer.”

“Oh-ho! Well, do have a seat, then.” She patted the other end of the sofa and crossed her long, bare legs, ready to talk business.

Reece disliked that his body was interested in those legs and wished the boat might rock a bit more violently and distract him back into a more tasteful breed of discomfort. He was not attracted to this woman. For starters she was all wrong, physically. She was the sort of shape women thought men wanted—tall and bony and sharp-featured like a fashion model. Not at all to Reece’s taste. He was irritated to even catch himself thinking about it again. He stayed standing, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“How’s your current assignment structured?” Libby asked.

“Basically, your father’s asked me to follow you and take photos. About thirty hours a week of surveillance, as he calls it. If we decide to cooperate, I’ll just need you to give me a list of the places you’d like me to claim you’re frequenting, and what activities you’d be doing. Or want him to think you’re doing. And let me photograph you doing that stuff, maybe two or three times a week. Your dad’s real loose about the rules. He doesn’t care if the photos are time-stamped or any of that, so long as I don’t send him any emails worded in a way that might make him look shady.”

“Easy-peasy. And I’d add I that was never the one unwilling to cooperate.”

“And one caveat,” Reece added sternly.

“Go on.”

“You need to tell me now if you’re actually doing anything illegal. I won’t do this if it means I’m covering up something below board.”

“I’m as pure as the driven snow, lover.”

Reece frowned. “I need a serious answer from you on that.”

“Don’t worry,” Libby said in a forthright tone. “I’m not doing anything bad.”

He nodded, deciding to believe her. “Fine. So how much are you offering me?”

“I said, what? Twenty percent on top of my dad’s offer?” She stood and went to stare out the windows at the water.

“Yes. And it has to be cash.”

“Obviously.” She turned. “Weekly?”

He nodded.

“How much then?”

“From you?” He’d already done the math. “Four hundred a week, US.”

Libby didn’t bat an eyelash. “Let’s round it up to five. I’ll give you the first installment this Friday.”

“You can…handle that?”

“Sure, lover. I’m loaded. Don’t you know who my family is?” she asked in a bored, flippant tone.

A deep pang of resentment stirred in Reece’s gut but he choked out, “Fine. But I have another term.”

“You said
one
caveat—”

“Don’t fuck with my brother.”

“Yeah.” Libby turned to him, hands on her hips. “You said already. Twice. So define ‘fuck with’.”

“Don’t…”

“What? Don’t
fuck
him? Is that what you’re trying to say?” She looked pissed.

“Don’t toy with him. Or lead him on.”

“Want me all for yourself, Nolan?”

“Just don’t. Can you promise me that?”

“Sure,” she said with a shrug.

“Good.” He reached for her hand, meaning to shake it roughly but hesitating when faced with her little finger cast.

“Excellent. I’m so glad you came by, Agent Nolan.
Double
Agent Nolan.” Libby relaxed as though an invisible switch had been flipped. “Have you eaten? You want to go for a kebab or something? Indian takeaway?”

“No, I just wanted to talk about this…arrangement.”

“Well, I’m very happy you did. Very happy indeed.” She glanced around the cabin with a look of distracted pleasure. “When do you want to meet for the first photo expedition?”

“Tomorrow, if you can. Your dad’s impatient.”

“Meet me at the bagel place near Te Papa at ten. You can document me at the museum, being a fine, upstanding little specimen of a woman. And all over the rest of town, if you have the time.”

“That sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

She grinned. “You sure will. Sweet dreams, loverboy.”

As the door clicked closed behind him, Reece had the distinct feeling he’d just signed a deal with the Devil.

“You’re a punctual little stalker, aren’t you?”

Reece raised a hand as he crossed the bagel shop’s sunny interior, taking a seat beside Libby at the counter.

“Gidday, Libby? Ready to play the respectable citizen?” He ordered a coffee to go and gave Libby a once-over. She hadn’t bothered dressing any less casually than usual, but he supposed for her to suddenly appear in a skirt suit would have raised more red flags with her old man than if she were running naked down the street on fire.

“I am indeed.” She grinned at him in a dangerous way. “I’m excited to go to the museum, actually. We could turn this into a classy little date, you know.”

“Strictly business, thanks very much.” His coffee arrived. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, sure thing.”

“Let’s go to the park first so I can drink this.”

“Gentleman’s choice,” Libby said.

They walked to the small expanse of green along the windy waterfront.

Reece blocked out the ocean, forcing himself into a rigid posture of professionalism and switching on his camera. “All right, let’s get started. Pretend you don’t even see me.”

“You don’t make it easy,” Libby said in a low tone, something suspicious shifting in her eyes.

Reece gave her stern look. “Just walk around, I guess. Be normal.”

She surprised him by complying. He wondered if she hadn’t been kidding when she said she’d spent the previous weekend acting like a regular person in case he’d been watching. The way she transformed was impressive. She ignored him for a couple of minutes, and Reece took a dozen snapshots. Just a woman taking a walk, gazing out at the sea, feeding half a bagel to the gulls. Nothing to worry about here, Mr. Prentiss.

“Te Papa now?” Libby squinted at him through the sunlight, her eyes turning dangerous again.

“Yeah. Tickets are on you.”

“It’s free, Ebenezer. But I’ll front you the suggested donation if you’re going to be like that.”

Reece didn’t reply. The consistency and frequency with which Libby managed to trip him up was alarming.

“So tell me, lover,” Libby drawled as they walked along the waterfront toward the museum. “How did my father find you, anyway? You’re nothing like the pros he’s hired in the past. If you hadn’t given yourself away I might not have even suspected you for weeks. I might’ve thought I’d gotten lucky, bumping into you all over Welly.”

“I found him, actually. Or Colin did. Your dad placed an ad in the paper and it just said, ‘Wanted, discreet individual for surveillance job. Generous cash wages, flexible hours.’ Something generic like that. Colin passed it on to me. I have some free time before I start another job.”

“As a cop.”

Reece disliked that she knew this but hid a scowl. “Yeah. So I met your father one weekend. He interviewed me over lunch, and I think he did a background check or something. Hired me on the phone the next day and some bloke showed up at the bar with a wad of cash.”

One of her angular eyebrows rose. “You met my father?”