Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
“Who exactly are you?”
“Cormac Coretti. You already know that.” He moved toward the door, graceful and calm.
Sometimes curiosity could be my bane. “Why can’t you tell me three true facts about yourself?”
He paused and then leaned a shoulder against the frame, his voice easy. “All right. My name is Cormac Coretti. That one’s true. I’m a freelancer but once worked for the government.”
It sounded like the truth, but I’d met enough liars to know charm could polish anything until it gleamed.
“And the third?” I asked.
He smiled, faint but deliberate. “I once held the Tiffany Diamond.”
I clasped my hands together. “You what?”
“The Tiffany Diamond,” he repeated. “Big, blazing, yellow gem. It’s stunning, really.”
I stared at him. “How did you hold it? To the best of my recollection, it’s only been worn in public four times in its entire existence.” Didn’t Audrey Hepburn wear it in a movie?
“Well, now,” he said lightly, “that’s another story.”
“Why don’t you tell it?” I asked softly.
“I was stealing it,” he said, almost too casually. “But I decided not to and left it in New York.”
Those words hung in the air, absurd, and maybe true.
“Those are your facts,” he said after a moment. “Please have your sister call me.” He winked, turned, and strode out of my office.
I stared at the empty doorway for several long seconds, tapping the edge of the plain white business card against my palm. Finally, I picked up the phone and dialed.
“Hi,” Donna answered. “I’m just about to sell a house. Any news on Nana’s shop?”
“Not exactly. I don’t know anything new, but Cormac Coretti was just here.”
She was silent for a few beats. “Was he?”
“Yeah. He wanted your number.”
“Did you give it to him?”
I stiffened. “Of course not. I’d never give someone your number without asking first. But he left his, if you’d like it.” I held my breath, finding myself halfway between sisterly loyalty and matchmaking curiosity. Donna deserved something fun, even if it came wrapped in mystery.
“No,” she said slowly. “If that man wants to find me, I think he can.”
“True that,” I said. “But if he does, are you going out with him?”
“Oh, Anna, please. He’s not going to ask me out.”
I wasn’t so sure.
“Gotta go,” she said, and the line clicked dead.
I set the receiver down and leaned back, letting out a slow breath. I’d done my job and warned her, more or less. That was enough.
A shadow crossed my doorway again. This time, it was Pauley.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hello,” he replied. “Zippy O’Bellini is licensed to practice law in Oregon, Washington, and Idaho.”
That wasn’t rare. “Where is he based?”
Pauley glanced at the still burning vanilla candles. “He has his own firm in Hood River, just outside of Portland, Oregon.”
“Hood River,” I repeated. “Huh. Find anything else?”
“That’s what I have so far.”
Excellent. “Great. Can you dive into the public records there? See what kind of cases Zippy has taken? Also any in Idaho if he has practiced here.”
“Of course.”
I rolled my neck. “Did you find out anything about Cormac Coretti?”
Pauley hesitated, eyes flicking past me toward the window. “I found nothing. There’s absolutely no social media footprint for Cormac Coretti. None.”
“Nothing?” I repeated.
“Not yet.”
I drummed my fingers once against the desk. “Keep looking, and please check if anyone ever tried to steal the Tiffany Diamond.”
“Of course.” He didn’t ask why. Pauley rarely did. He just nodded and disappeared down the hall.
I looked at the card still sitting on my desk. Just a number with no name, no logo, nothing to tie it to anyone or anything.
Yeah, I liked that he’d given it to me and not Jolene. I liked that he seemed genuinely interested in my sister. But I didn’t like the secrets. Nobody with that much confidence should have zero online presence.
The candle flame flickered in the quiet, and I caught myself staring at it, wondering if he was friend or foe.
I really didn’t know.
Chapter 9
I heard the rumble of motorcycle pipes just as I walked out the back door of my building. The sound rolled through the alley, low and steady, until Aiden came to a stop. His badass bike glistened with a fine mist of rain, chrome catching what little light the gray sky offered.
I crossed my arms. “So you got her out, huh?”
“Yeah.” His mouth tilted in that almost-smile that usually got him out of trouble. “There’s still a lot of rain, but she was ready to go.” He tugged off his gloves and looked at me, that implacable blue gaze pinning me in place. I’d never be able to count the shades in those eyes, so I didn’t even try. “I didn’t like you not answering my phone call earlier.”
Crap. I’d honestly forgotten. “It was a busy day.” I heard how weak it sounded.
“Was it?” His Irish lilt thickened, a thread of steel under velvet.