Page 36 of Crimson Love

He shuts his laptop. “It couldn’t have worked out better. I can say that now that we’re on the other side and moving on with life. Our wedding will be at her grandma’s house amidst the construction, and Felicity is planning our wedding reception. By the way, you’re a groomsman. Save the date.”

I sit back in my chair and rest an ankle on my other knee. “When’s the big day?”

He shrugs. “As soon as possible. Keep your schedule open and don’t go far —not that your sister will let you anyway. Makes me a happy man to see Harlow like this. There’s no one more important to her than her family. She wants you here and is willing to do anything to make that happen.”

I hold my arms out low. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“For now.” He picks up his Montblanc and starts to thread it in and out of his fingers. “She’s desperate to make that permanent. She’s even mentioned giving you a portion of her grandma’s land.”

I hike a brow. “Moving to Winslet and moving into your new backyard are two very different things. No offense, but that’s not going to happen.”

“Thank fuck.” He flips the pen, catches it, and smirks. “Now that we’ve got that taken care of, what can I do for you? Maybe I need to put you to work around here since you’re so bored you’re stealing cars.”

Devon is no nonsense and all business, exactly as he has been since the first time I met him. He spent almost two decades as a secret agent for British Intelligence. His career as an MI6 ended when he was burned and his identity made public. The entire thing was so harrowing, he left the Motherland, moved to the States, and bought a run-down estate to make it into a five-star resort.

“I already have a job I hate, but thanks. I’m here because I want to know what you know about Lennon Shaw.”

He tosses the pen to the desk. It lands with a thud that reflects the new expression on his face that reminds me of stone. “Why?’’

“Why not?”

“Because she’s my employee and a damn good one. Something you might not know about me yet, I’m fiercely protective of the people who work their arses off for me. Lennon is one of my best. I don’t want anything to mess that up.”

I tip my head a fraction and motion between him and me. “I know I’m standing up for you at your wedding, but you don’t know me well either. I’m not going to fuck up anything. I was trying to do something nice and buy the woman new tires so she doesn’t slide off the side of a mountain when the snow and ice hit, but she freaked the fuck out on me.”

“You hotwired her car and stole it,” he deadpans. “What did you expect her to do? Do they teach you to hotwire shit in the Army?

“Hardly. I taught myself how to do that on my grandma’s old car. The only thing to do when you’re in high school and live in the middle of nowhere is get drunk in cornfields and fuck around when you’re not drunk. I was the king of both.”

Devon leans forward. “Let’s get back to Lennon. Why are you asking and what do you want to know?”

“I’m curious what her backstory is.” I keep throwing that word around and even I know it’s more than that.

Devon sighs. “I hired Lennon at the height of my past colliding with Harlow’s present. I had more drama than I could handle. There was no reason for me to dig into her past. Her resume was enough to win her an interview, so I gave her a chance. She’s good at her job and exceeded expectations. Aside from what everyone around here thinks, I do not use my resources with the CIA and British Intelligence to dig into every person I meet.”

“You did on me,” I counter.

He doesn’t look the least bit apologetic. “That’s different. Everything is different when it comes to Harlow. You could’ve turned out to be a tosser. Thank fuck that didn’t happen. Though watching you steal cars on surveillance was an eye opener.”

I’m about to demand he drop the car thief shit, but my cell vibrates. “Hang on. I need to take this.” I press go on the call. “Hey, Clive. You about done with the car?”

Clive’s hollered laugh pierces my ear. “Fuck no. What do you think I am, Wally World? I’m a one-man shop operating on prayers and brewskies. But I am calling about your little project. Seems we’ve run into another speedbump.”

“At this point, I feel like you’re taking advantage of me,” I mutter.

“I’m not calling to add to your list of shit that needs to be fixed. I’m calling about something else.” I can tell he’s in the garage from the echoing in the background and tools clanking around. “I might be small potatoes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t do shit by the book. My daughter came in to catch me up on computer work. That’s when we found it.”

“Found what?” I demand.

“It’s hot.”

“Hot?”

“Yeah. Swiped, boosted, yoinked.”

I roll my eyes. “When is everyone going to quit giving me shit for that? I’ll file this under no good deed goes unpunished and call it a day.”

“Not you. The car. It was reported stolen in Alabama a few months back. Wondered what you knew about that?”