Kaden slid away from the table. “Excuse me.”
Stepping next to Abby, he whispered, “Nigel said one of my jobs will be to set up for events. Do you mind if I peek into the ballroom?”
Her reddish-blond eyebrows snapped together. “Sure.”
“Third floor?”
She nodded.
“Let me take you up,” Cheryl volunteered. “I can see how things are going.”
“Thanks.”
Cheryl led him to a back stairway. As they neared the third floor, she asked, “Does this have to do with Issy?”
What could he reveal? “Gonzalez is a name associated with the case. It’s a long shot, but it’s possible Salvez, Bole’s partner, is here.”
Cheryl swallowed. “Do you think Heather is here?”
“Only one way to find out.”
In the service hallway, trays of stainless steel covers and dirty dishes were neatly stacked on carts. The muffled clinking of silverware and the hum of voices came through the door. “How many guests?”
“The estimate was one hundred.” She swung open the door.
“Will I be able to see most of them from here?”
“About half. We can stop here and then go around to the ballroom doors.”
Stepping inside, he scanned the ballroom, looking for any of the faces he’d memorized from the Mexican cartels operating in Georgia. He didn’t recognize anyone. And no sign of Bole, either.
“Let’s check from the entrance,” he said.
The main doors were open. And at least one man looked familiar.
There were two tables of adults near the back, with two older men at each table. No one noticed as he zoomed in with his phone camera.
“That’s all I needed.”
Now he had to wait to see the actual photos. And he wasn’t good at waiting.
* * *
COURTNEY SWIRLED HER GLASS, but her margarita was gone. The glass clinked as she set it on the courtyard table.
Look what her life had come to. She couldn’t remember ever drinking alone. All because of dear old Dad. Gray insisted she be ready to work at seven thirty—in the morning. Back home she wouldn’t get up until nine or later.
She missed her friends, missed Boston and missed a home where she didn’t have to think about getting up at dawn. “Damn it! Why is my life so screwed up?”
Footsteps echoed along the path. They stopped on the other side of the hedge and a hand reached through. A deep voice asked, “Everything all right?”
The handyman.
“Just...getting away from the lovebirds.” She jerked her head up to Gray and Abby’s window.
Kaden came around the plants and scanned the area. “Were you talking...to yourself?”
Here was someone to take her mind off her troubles. The soft lighting in Bess’s garden set a seductive mood. It barely lit her quarry, the hot Mr. Kaden Farrell.
She shook her hair so it cascaded over one shoulder. She excelled at wrapping men around her finger. “My life is in a bit of an upheaval right now.”
His eyebrows lowered. “That’s hard to imagine.”
She moved closer, swinging her hips. “I’m bored. I don’t suppose you know of any nightclubs or someplace we could have some fun?”
She set her hand on his chest. His muscles bunched under her fingers. She smoothed her hand up to his shoulder. Nice.
“I don’t have fun.” He caught her hand and pushed it away.
She stumbled into his body and looked up into his icy blue eyes.
His gaze flicked down to her lips and stayed there.
Her stomach fluttered. The hum of attraction was so much nicer than wallowing about having to work for Gray. She licked her upper lip. His nostrils flared. She stood on her toes so he wouldn’t have to bend too low to kiss her.
He stepped back. “Stop.”
Kaden was rejecting her? A handyman? She wanted to curl into a ball and hide. Instead, she whispered, “Stop?”
“I’m not here to entertain you.” He set a heavy hand on her shoulder, keeping her from moving closer.
“But we could... You’re a long way from Atlanta. Don’t you want...” Me? She never stumbled and stammered.
“It’s late and I need to...rest.”
He was making excuses? This couldn’t be happening. A handyman!
“No one ignores me,” she whispered. Louder, she snapped, “Just...just...stay out of my way.”
He pointed at her. “You’ve got it.”
A man had never looked at her with that kind of...animosity. The bushes rustled as he stomped away.
She slumped against the nearby palm tree. Why was her life out of control? She’d been ready to kiss him, and he’d shut her down.
The jerk! No man did that. Not to her. Somehow, she would figure out how to bring Mr. Kaden Farrell to heel.
And then she would treat him like the dog he was.
KADEN WHEELED HIS bag around the spot where Courtney had come on to him. Unbelievable. Just one more reason to ignore the way his body reacted to her.
Courtney was bored.
He was not here to distract a spoiled rich girl, even if she was gorgeous.
Hell. He’d almost kissed Courtney. She’d pressed up on her toes and her lush lips had been a whisper away.
He didn’t need a distraction like her. This undercover assignment was too important. He needed 100 percent of his energy focused on capturing Heather Bole. That meant ignoring Courtney.
He used the key Abby had given him to unlock the carriage house side door. The lock was so flimsy, he could have opened it with his credit card.
After trucking his bags upstairs and down the hall, he unlocked another flimsy lock. Home for the next little while.
The B and B’s cleaning crew had been through the apartment. Everything was spotless and smelled clean—not bleach, but something tangy.
Granddad had been thrilled Kaden was helping at the B and B. He wanted Kaden to take care of the Fitzgeralds. And he no longer felt guilty about occupying a Carleton House guest room.
After unpacking, he set his computer on the kitchen table. As much as he would like to use the second bedroom as an office, the pink mural would be too distracting.
He opened the file of pictures he’d taken last night. Zooming in, he focused on scars and visible tattoos, trying to match the faces with known drug dealers or cartel members. Nothing.
But he forwarded the file to the team. They could run the pictures against their database, just in case his memory was failing him.
He rolled his neck and the vertebrae cracked. He’d visited his grandfather. Packed and moved. Checked faces. Now what? He always had a backlog of tasks needing his attention at the Bureau. This not working was...unsettling.
Time to check on what Abby needed.
He headed down the stairs. Muffled voices and hammer strikes