in his gut, he answered. “A man’s missing, and Sidorov might be involved. That’s all I’m prepared to say.” Time to change the subject. “You mentioned you’d taken a picture of Sidorov threatening your brother-in-law. I’d like to see it.”
“I haven’t had a chance to check it out myself.”
“Now seems like a good time to do that, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so.” She twisted around in her seat, her breasts coming within inches of his arm as she reached back for the camera. She didn’t seem to notice, but he sure did. His heart rate picked up and the interior of the SUV began to feel like a sauna. He told himself she wasn’t being intentionally provocative, but his body wasn’t listening. It was enjoying the view too much.
When she settled back in her seat and rested the camera in the cradle of her thighs, he swore softly under his breath. Oblivious to his discomfort, she stared at the back of her camera with a frown, shifting closer to him to move out of the sunlight streaming through the windshield. She let out a frustrated sound. “It’s too bright. I can’t see the display properly.”
He knew how to fix that problem. He reached over, cupping his big, wide hands over her smaller, narrower ones to make a better shield against the sun. Her closeness made him aware of her scent. It wasn’t strong like perfume, more like a lingering soap or shampoo. Could it be watermelon? Yeah, that was it. He’d always liked the juicy fruit, and next time he ate some, he’d think of her.
Her startled blue eyes lifted to his. They maintained eye contact for a good long moment, neither one of them speaking. Eventually she fidgeted in her seat, and the camera shifted under their hands. “Look again,” he murmured.
She dropped her gaze to the camera, then groaned softly. “The shot shows the gun, but Sidorov’s face is so blurry it’s unrecognizable. I can’t believe I screwed it up.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You were shocked by Sidorov’s actions, which is completely understandable.”
“Now I don’t have proof of him threatening Trevor.”
“I have some software on my laptop that might be able to sharpen the image.” He breathed in her scent again before moving back to his side of the vehicle. “Why were you looking in his office window?”
“It has nothing to do with your investigation.”
“That wasn’t our deal. You said if I told the truth, you’d do the same.”
She remained silent, her lips pressed together in annoyance.
Prepared to wait her out, he rolled down his window. Birds chirped in a sprawling oak tree close to the road. The smell of burgers grilling on a barbecue somewhere reminded him he hadn’t eaten since early morning.
After a few minutes, his gaze strayed to his passenger. He took in her high, sculpted cheekbones, her thickly lashed eyes and her flawless skin. No doubt about it. Brooke Rogers was drop-dead gorgeous—and as stubborn as she was beautiful.
Eventually, she huffed out a breath. “Okay, I was there because of my sister. She has this crazy notion her husband is having an affair.”
“With whom?”
She didn’t offer up the culprit, so he threw out a few possibilities. “Sidorov’s daughter? The housekeeper?” Another option occurred to him, and he figured he might as well voice it. “Sidorov himself?”
“Heavens, no,” she sputtered.
“Tell me who she suspected.”
“Savannah only gave me the address, not the name or description of Trevor’s supposed lover.”
“So you brought a camera along to get a shot of your brother-in-law and his lover together.”
“My sister insisted,” she admitted, “but I knew there wouldn’t be any naked bodies cavorting about. Trevor’s priorities are Savannah and his bank career, in that order.”
A banker. Why had Sidorov pointed a gun at a banker? Had he lost money due to bad investment advice, or was he simply disappointed by the services he’d received? His reaction seemed extreme, but an ex-mafia boss might be accustomed to threatening those who didn’t live up to his expectations.
“I want to talk to your brother-in-law. Find out why he met with Sidorov and what caused the guy to draw a gun on him.”
“I’ve been wondering about that, too. In fact, I’ve arranged for Trevor and my sister to come to the diner in this plaza. It seemed safer than meeting in their home.”
He couldn’t fault her reasoning, given what Sidorov had done. “When do you expect them?”
“Hopefully within the next half hour or so. I figured I’d get a coffee while I waited for them.”
“Good idea. Let’s go.”
They left her SUV and headed across the parking lot to the diner. Inside, the place had a late 1950s, early 1960s vibe going on. Oversize photos of movie stars and rock-and-roll idols of that era hung on the walls. The floor was black-and-white tile, and red vinyl covered the chair seats and booth benches. The place was nearly empty, the lunch crowd having already cleared out, and the jukebox in the corner quietly played an old Elvis song.
Brooke excused herself, pointing to the restroom sign. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Jared headed for a booth near the back of the diner, wanting privacy for the upcoming conversation with Brooke’s brother-in-law and his wife. A waitress came over, dressed in a white cotton blouse, short flared skirt and ankle socks. She gave him a friendly smile, even though he saw signs of fatigue: dark circles under her eyes, a yellowish stain on her shoulder and mussed hair that had barely been brushed today. As she placed the menus on the table, he noticed a light stripe on her ring finger.
“Two decaf coffees,” he said.
Her smile faded, probably anticipating a poor tip, yet another disappointment for a new mother whose marriage or engagement had broken down. Her next words were a valiant effort to change his mind. “Our sandwiches are like nothing you’ve ever tasted. We use the highest-quality ingredients as well as bread baked daily by a local, award-winning bakery.”
His stomach responded to the mention of food with a few hunger pangs, and the diner’s offerings sounded infinitely better than the take-out meals he’d eaten over the past few days. “Okay, your sales pitch has won me over. I’ll take three sandwiches. A BLT, a grilled cheese and a roast beef. Hold the mustard.” Brooke was welcome to eat whatever appealed to her, or she could ask for something else.
The waitress’s smile was back in full force as she jotted down his order. “I knew you looked hungry when you walked in. Your meal won’t take long. In the meantime, I’ll get your beverages.”
The coffees had been delivered by the time Brooke returned from the restroom. He watched her add a generous helping of cream and three packets of sugar to hers.
“Don’t judge,” she muttered. “I need a pick-me-up.”
“When did you last eat?”
“I
