in New York, and they research locations, set up shoots, and help with post-production work, but on the road, it’s just him and me.”
That sent warning flags up in his mind. He asked, “How would you describe your relationship? Just coworkers? Friends? More?” He watched closely for tells of a lie. She was a lot younger than Hubbard and might not want to admit to an affair if there was one.
She startled him by laughing in genuine amusement at the question. “Me and Gary? Together? That’s hilarious. No, it’s a little sick, actually. We’re definitely not more than friends and coworkers. Sheesh. He’s older than my father.”
Bastien was surprised by the relief that flooded his gut. It was none of his business who she slept with. Still. He was glad she wasn’t involved with her boss.
“How did you come to be associated with the show? Were you assigned to it by the network?”
“No. Gary hired me. He told his bosses he wanted to work with me, and they reviewed my portfolio and agreed to hire me.”
Huh. So she owed her job to him. Did that reduce her viability as a suspect? Or perhaps she resented him because of it. Aloud, he asked, “What all do you do for Mr. Hubbard...as his coworker?”
“I film the show and direct him from behind the camera. Then he and I do the initial post-production editing and cleanup.”
She continued, “We shoot anywhere from three to ten episodes in a single location, and then we usually return to New York. The editor there cuts together the shows and Gary records any voice-overs they require.”
“How long have you two been in New Orleans?”
“About two weeks. We spent a week checking out spots to film, and the plan was to spend about three weeks filming for the show.”
How had this glorious creature been in his city for two weeks without him knowing about her? His radar for beautiful women must be slipping. Usually he was the first to know and the first to make a move. Not that he was sleezy about it. He liked women, and they liked him. He just didn’t like to get too deeply involved with any one woman.
Consciously suppressing his natural tendency to turn on the charm with the lovely Miss Price, Bastien asked, “While you were scouting locations, what did Mr. Hubbard say about this supposed treasure he’s tracking?”
“Not a word. He’s keeping whatever he knows about it completely to himself.”
Too bad. A rich treasure would certainly constitute a motive for kidnapping or worse. “Has Mr. Hubbard suggested on the show that the treasure is valuable?”
“This season hasn’t aired on television yet. But in the episodes we’ve already shot, he has indicated that the treasure is priceless.”
“Who all has seen the footage shot so far?”
“Gary, me and the production crew in New York.”
“I’ll need names of everyone on the crew.”
“Umm, okay. I can get that for you in the morning. I think I know everyone, but I may be missing someone who has access to the footage.”
He nodded and then said, “So you’ll be in town a few more weeks?”
“Assuming Gary shows up soon and we can resume filming on schedule.”
“What if he doesn’t show up?” he responded casually.
Horror filled her eyes, and then tears followed. He saw a lot of tears in his line of work and had become hardened to them long ago. But this woman’s unshed tears brimming in her stricken eyes twisted his gut painfully. He bit back an urge to tell her not to worry. That he would find her boss for her and bring him back to her. But he knew better than to make promises he couldn’t necessarily keep.
She choked out between sobbing gasps of air, “Gary’s like a father to me. He can be a pain in the butt, but he has a good heart, and he looked out for me when I needed it—”
She broke off. An interesting choice of words. Had she been in some kind of trouble that Hubbard rescued her from?
On the weekends, Bastien pulled reserve duty in a Navy SEAL unit, and his teammates often accused him of being a suspicious bastard. He assured them it was merely his cop’s instinct. And right now, that instinct was firing on all cylinders. There was a story behind this young woman. He would bet his police badge and his Budweiser—his SEAL insignia pin—that she had secrets to hide.
He asked, “Have you and Mr. Hubbard had any disagreements recently? Any falling-outs?”
She answered without hesitation, “We fight all the time. Gary always thinks he knows better than me how to stage and film the show. But he has no artist’s eye whatsoever, not to mention no training as a camera operator.”
Hmm. No evasion in her answer, but an admission of friction. He couldn’t take her off the suspect list yet. Too bad. His gut feeling was that she was not part of the kidnapping plot. But he only trusted gut feelings when they involved guns pointed at him or bad guys sneaking up behind him. In the world of law enforcement, it was all about evidence and cold, hard facts. Which was, of course, part of the allure of it to him. No need for messy things like emotions and relationships.
He stood up and fished a business card out of his wallet. “Here’s my phone number. Call me if Mr. Hubbard shows up or contacts you. If you think of anything else that might help me locate him, call me any time, day or night.”
“When do you sleep?” she asked.
One corner of his mouth curled sardonically. “I don’t.”
“You’re a cyborg, then?”
“Something like that.” He had to give her credit. She had a quick wit. When she wasn’t hiding things or scared silly, she was probably an entertaining person to be around. “Don’t worry about waking me up. If you hear from him or think of something, call me right away. Time is the enemy in missing persons cases.”
She nodded her understanding and reached for his card. Their fingertips brushed and he caught her fast, light inhalation. Attracted to him, was she? Aww, baby. It’s totally mutual.
An urge to reach out, cup the sweet curve of her cheek in his hand, to lean down and brush those berry lips with his, to whisper in her ear that he would make everything all right, nearly overcame him.
Damn, she was messing with his head! It must be the fact that he couldn’t have her that was making her so completely irresistible. But he had a hard rule about not dating on the job, and he wasn’t about to break it. Not for her. Not for any woman.
Not that he actually dated much at all. What with working long hours as a cop and longer hours on the weekends training SEALs, he didn’t exactly have a thriving social life. Throw in the occasional deployment with the SEALs where he could be gone anywhere from a few days to weeks, and it wasn’t worth the effort to try to sustain relationships in between the demands of his twin careers.
He supposed he technically could be accused of serial dating a long string of women. But he didn’t engage in actual relationships with any of them. At best, a few of them rose to the status of friends with benefits. But he’d
