Mick snagged her hand in his. “For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t.”

Sarah exhaled. Curled her fingers around his. “Me either.” They sat for a moment, hand in hand in quiet comfort. “Do you think he was telling the truth? He is getting old. Maybe he’s confused—”

“If I were a betting man, I’d say the odds are they were involved. There were too many concrete details, no hesitation. Although, he could be an incredibly skillful con man.”

“Yeah. I’m clutching at straws. Looking back, it seems so clear. Of course they were having an affair. You want to know what’s grossing me out. He’s old enough to be Vicki’s father. And . . .” She attempted to suppress a shudder. “Now I’ve got this image of them”—she wafted her free hand in the air with a grimace—“getting it on. The more I try not to think about it, the deeper it gets embedded in my brain. And then there’s . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“What Clarke inferred about your ex and Vicki?”

She nodded, subdued.

“Do you think it’s a possibility?”

“I don’t know. If you’d asked me yesterday, I would have said the idea of Vicki and Uncle Phillip was far-fetched.” She worried her lower lip between her teeth. “Vicki’s really not Kevin’s type . . .”

“But if he wanted something from her?”

“If he wanted something from her, then all bets are off.”

“From what you’ve told me, it sounded like Kevin was obsessed with having the ability to dominate and control you. What if this is a trap? What if Clarke and Kevin are working together, and this whole ‘talk to Vicki’ thing is a setup?”

“You spoke to Kevin yesterday.” Sarah was gazing out the side window in a seemingly nonchalant manner, but her eyes narrowed slightly and her lips had compressed together. “He’s in LA.”

“As were we. And now we are in a cab on our way to Brooklyn.” He lifted their entwined hands and turned hers over, his thumb gently grazing the delicate skin of her inner wrist. Then he replaced his thumb with his lips, imprinting the sweetness, the taste of her soft skin in his memory bank. He had her attention now. “Let me drop you off at a coffee shop.” His voice was husky with longing and need. Her close proximity overwhelmed his senses, and the merest of tastes made him ravenous for more. He turned his head, laying his cheek against her soft skin, then exhaled slowly and lowered her hand. “Seriously, Sarah. I think it would be safer that way. You can write down what you want me to say to Vicki, the questions you have. I will get the information for you and return, pronto.”

A tender smile gently curved her lips, her eyes soft. “I can’t do that,” she said. “Thank you for the offer though.”

“Why?”