“At least that’s something. We’ve only got Samira to worry about. Wish to hell she would have stayed in London instead of going out on this mission trip of hers.”
A series of electronic chimes sounded and a moment later, another interior door slid open and the man in charge stepped inside.
To most of the world—including the regular employees of Cee-Vid, who didn’t know anything else was going on beneath the surface—Tristan Clay was merely the brilliant mind behind Cee-Vid.
To a select few, he was close to the top of the food chain inside Hollins-Winword. And to Casey, Tristan Clay was not only his boss but his uncle.
The older man’s piercing blue gaze went straight to the bank of screens. “Where’re we at?”
Protocols were always followed whenever an asset or an operative went off plan. It was easier for Casey to work through them than it was for him to think about Janie’s “plan,” and he nudged Banyon out of the seat and took his position at the controls. “Last contact was thirty-six hours ago.” His fingers started flying over the console, satellites high above the world snapped to attention, and Casey did the only thing in the world he figured he was meant to do.
He kept Hollins-Winword’s own safe.
* * *
“You do realize that if women could just snap their fingers and find the perfect man, the entire chocolate industry might crumble to dust?” Hayley Templeton’s slender fingers hovered indecisively over the opened box of Godiva delectables sitting on top of the gleaming wood bar at Colbys.
Jane wasn’t indecisive at all. She plucked a heart-shaped piece from the box and bit it in half, sighing a little over the explosion of bliss on her taste buds. “I know I can’t just snap my fingers,” she countered. If her digits possessed such magic, she’d have waved them over Casey and he wouldn’t have bothered offering up his friends and associates to put their heads in her matrimonial noose.
He would have given his neck to her willingly.
Instead, he’d bolted.
Just as she’d known he would.
The chocolate suddenly lost its appeal, but she ate the second half of the heart anyway before rinsing her hands at the bar sink and pulling the latest rack of glasses fresh from the dishwasher built into the cabinets below the bar. “Other women manage to find spouses here in Weaver. So why can’t I?”
Hayley finally selected a chocolate and replaced the lid on the gold box. “Get that away from me before I eat the rest.”
“They are your chocolates,” Jane reminded her. Her friend had brought them with her when she’d stopped by the bar and grill that afternoon.
“And I expect you to save me. I haven’t been running with Sam Dawson four times a week only to have a box of chocolates, given to me by a grateful patient, going straight to my hips.” Hayley groaned. “Sam’s a slave driver. You’d think she’d have a little sympathy for her friends.”
Sam Dawson was a deputy with the sheriff’s department. “She gave me a parking ticket the other day. Sam doesn’t have any sympathy for anyone.” Jane took pity on Hayley and tucked away the golden box of temptation before unloading the rack of glasses onto the shelves on the wall behind her. “I think she was just making up for the fact that I kicked her butt in racquetball last week.”
“I honestly don’t know how I ended up with such competitive friends.” Hayley propped her elbows on the bar and glanced around. At three in the afternoon, the place was busy with families having late lunches or early dinners, but the bar itself was quiet.
It would pick up later, though. Friday nights were always packed at Colbys. The establishment had been a Weaver staple since long before Jane had bought it from the family of a friend she’d known since college. Well, she amended mentally, since her ex-husband, Gage Stanton, had staked her purchase of the place.
What was unusual, though, was Hayley stopping in at that hour of the day. Finished with the sparkling clean pilsner glasses, Jane turned back to her friend. “So what’s wrong?”
Hayley ran her hand down the sleek tail of her ponytail. “Who says anything’s wrong?”
Jane shook her head a little. When it came to the town of Weaver, even after several years there, they were still relative newcomers. As was Sam Dawson. But the three of them had all struck up an enduring friendship. She dumped ice into a glass, filled it with diet cola and set it in front of her friend. “You know bartenders are the best listeners. Comes with the territory.”
Hayley pulled a face and reached for the drink. “Counselors are the best listeners,” she corrected her. “My PhD in psychology says so.” She twisted the glass between her fingers. “Just some family dissension. Evidently, after more than thirty years of estrangement, my grandmother has been trying to mend fences with my dad and my uncle, and they’re not having any of it.”
Because the bar was so quiet and the restaurant section had its own complement of servers, Jane pulled up the stool she kept behind the bar and sat down to sip at her own soda. “This is their mom you’re talking about?”
Hayley nodded. “Vivian Archer Templeton.” She drew out the name, then lifted her shoulders. “She lives in Pittsburgh and has been making noises about visiting them in Braden. I think Daddy and Uncle David are wrong and should be more receptive. They didn’t really take kindly to my input. As far as they’re concerned, she’s just a selfish, filthy-rich snob who’ll never change.”
“And Dr. Templeton never goes off duty,” Jane murmured. “Is she really rich?”
“Loaded. She married into it, evidently, when she married her first husband. My grandfather. Steel or something.” Then Hayley seemed to shake off her thoughts. “Back to you and the great husband hunt. Believe me. I completely understand a ticking biological clock.” Her lips twisted ruefully as she patted her chest. “Ticktock, ticktock here, too. None of us are getting any younger. But women these days do have babies without rushing into a marriage.”
“Not me.” Suddenly restless, Jane grabbed a clean bar towel and moved to the far end to start polishing the long wooden surface. “I know society has changed since my mother did it, but that doesn’t mean single parenting is easy. As a family counselor, you would know that more than anyone.”
“True enough.” Hayley rested her elbow on the bar and propped her chin on her hand. “Though your mom didn’t make that choice alone. Your dad walked out on all of you, didn’t she?”
“She made him leave.” And once he was gone, her mother had pretended he never existed at all. Since her parents had never married, doing so had been horribly easy.
Hayley made a soft mmming sound.
Jane pulled out the chocolate box again and waved it under Hayley’s nose. “Stop looking at me like I’m one of your patients or I’m going to open this up again.”
Hayley pushed the box aside. “Fine. Since we’ve established the fact that you can’t just snap your fingers for a husband, what do you plan to do about it?” There was a smile in her eyes as she nodded toward the fishbowl on one end of the counter. “Have a drawing like you do for a free meal?”
“I’ve
