How had she not realized he was even taller than Anthony? She had misjudged the distance because suddenly she was too close, had to tip her head back to meet his stormy gaze.
The impulse to retreat a step hit hard, but Courtney stood her ground. “Listen, that didn’t go the way I expected in there. You don’t have to help me. Not unless you’re willing.”
“You don’t want to pay me?” he asked in that dark voice, throaty yet somehow smooth like molasses.
“No, that’s not it. It’s not the money.”
Something flickered deep in his gaze. She might not know this man well, but she knew his brothers. Every one quick-witted and a bit of a ballbreaker in his own way. Marc was making her uncomfortable and didn’t mind.
What was it about this man, the one and only DiLeo she didn’t absolutely adore?
“I don’t understand why you need to be rude, Marc. I know your family coerced you. I was there, remember? And if you remember correctly, I wanted your opinion. I never asked you to do anything.”
“I don’t come cheap.”
“It has nothing to do with your fee.”
“Your call, then. Pay me for my time and provide chauffeur services to everywhere I need to go, or let me get back to my busy day.”
The everywhere I need to go made red flags fly. Did he mean everywhere he needed to go to discover what had happened to Araceli or did he mean everywhere everywhere he needed to go?
Courtney didn’t ask. Ironically, she probably had less to do with her days than he did. And the only thing she cared about was finding Araceli.
“Getting you where you need to go is no problem,” she said. “I’ll make arrangements for a different vehicle if we need to do a lot of running around.”
“We’ll need to do a lot of running around.”
“No problem.” He was only trying to provoke her. She knew it, but she didn’t want him to think he could push her around. As she faced Marc’s somber expression, she suddenly felt as if her very life depended on standing up to this man.
So she stood there, gaze unwavering, though the effort cost. Her chest grew tight, making her breaths come in shallow bursts, but she refused to look away, refused to blink, even though her neck felt as if it might snap from keeping her head tilted.
“We’re good then.” He was the first to break. “You’ve hired yourself a bounty hunter. For what that’s worth nowadays.”
That said a lot about why Marc had resisted.
“Thank you.” She meant it.
He leaned heavily on his cane and repositioned himself in the springy grass, and Courtney suspected she hadn’t won that little battle of wills at all. Marc had probably only needed to move his injured leg so he didn’t topple over.
His physical limitations were all too evident as he made his way to the car and braced himself with a hand on the door frame to lower himself into the passenger seat. She held the door, watched the muscles bulge in his arm. His jaw tensed as if he fought the pain of bending his knee to wedge his big body into the compact compartment.
She opened her mouth to tell him to use the seat release, but he was already there. The seat jumped back with a metallic spring, and his expression eased.
She didn’t know what to say, so she circled the car, leaving him to pull the door shut himself. She had only meant to consult with this man, to be advised about how to proceed. Now she had her very own bounty hunter, broken though he was, and she had no clue about what came next.
He sat so close, his elbow propped on her console, his hand draped casually on a knee. Somehow he managed to fill up her spacious-for-a-compact-car interior, and she wasn’t sure what to say or do.
Drive...that much was a given.
Cranking the car, she slipped the shift into gear, feeling flustered and off-kilter. Driving away from the curb, Courtney was determined to find her center and regain control. “So what kind of place do you need to work? Let’s start there.”
“Standard office setup. Wi-Fi. Printer. Fax.”
Okay, great. “One office coming up.”
He didn’t reply, just stared ahead, so she drove along in silence, remembering what Mama had said about being an answer to a prayer. What had Mama wished for this son?
Courtney didn’t have a clue. Up until Marc’s protracted visit after his accident, she had seen him only a handful of times through the years. He was quiet, intense, brooding almost, and suddenly seemed to suck up more than his share of air.
CHAPTER FOUR
“HERE IT IS—Beatriz Ortero.” The librarian used the name I had gone by for years now. “I’ve been waiting for you to come in. I wanted to ask about your tutor. She hasn’t been in with you for a while.”
“Her schedule is nuts.” I didn’t sound too sure, even though I had known this question would come up sometime.
Not that I expected some random librarian to notice Debbie was gone. One of the neighbors maybe. Definitely one of the ladies at church if I had ever seen one. But I hadn’t run into any yet—thank God—and I hadn’t been back to our church since Debbie had gotten too sick to make it to services.
“She has conflict with an after-school program, so she makes me work online.” I sounded more certain this time, more casual. “She doesn’t want me to lose the habit of making a time and place to study. She calls it practicing for college.”
Had called it, anyway.
But the librarian was not interested, which made me wonder why she had noticed in the first place. Her gaze darted to the window as some kids passed the glass wall that separated this librarian from the others.
The queen on her throne.
No, that didn’t fit. This librarian in her bland-colored pants with her disapproving expression wasn’t regal as far as I was concerned. She was annoyed. That much I knew. Probably because the security guard hadn’t noticed the kids. He was too busy puffing up his chest at the pretty page who shelved books.
She finally turned back to me. “Will you please let your tutor know the paperwork needs to be renewed if you want to keep using the tutoring room?”
“Does she need to come in or do you want me to bring her the paperwork? She still has a few weeks left of the program.”
The librarian didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned over and searched through a desk drawer.
So I stood there and didn’t say anything, even when she glanced up as that same group of kids got noisy, jockeying to get through the teen room door.
The security guard still didn’t notice. When the librarian looked in his direction, her expression pinched, her angular features converging at an imaginary point in front of her face.
If I were to sketch her, I’d exaggerate her pointy features and add whiskers, turning her into the rat queen. Of course, she probably wouldn’t find anything to laugh about. But I would. And I had not had much laughter in me lately, so one smile might be worth getting stiffed a tip.
The image in my head smoothed away some of the worry. I just hoped this unhappy woman wouldn’t take out her unhappiness on me since I was around the same age as the noisy kids.
She withdrew the papers and handed them over. I smiled and said, “Thank you,” very politely, hoping to prove myself different than everyone else my age.
If I lost this tutoring room, I couldn’t get another. Not without an adult. I didn’t need a quiet