His eyes held hers as he asked softly, “Is it?”

In a split second, she remembered making love to him, the stretch of his skin over taut, corded muscles, the pressure of his mouth on hers. Her breath caught in her throat. “You are a first-class bastard,” she said, the fact that her words were a whisper taking away none of their power. And with that she walked away from the booth and through the sawdust and peanut shells to the door, letting him worry about the tab.

He could damn well afford it.

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 27

San Francisco, California
December 7

She’d been stood up.

On the night after she had been unceremoniously hauled away from Lenora Travers’s town house, Charity, fuming, had waited at the waterfront, the night closing in on her despite the lights of the city, skyscrapers with their towers of windows glowing against the inky, moist night.

The “contact” she’d made, a person who had called her the night before and suggested they meet near Pier 39, hadn’t shown last night, either. She’d been wary, of course, but the caller, whose phone number had been blocked, insisted that he or she—Charity hadn’t been able to tell which—had “dirt” on James Cahill, including why he was considered the black sheep of his family, and what stood in his way of inheriting.

Music to Charity’s ears. As she’d gone to the meeting spot, she’d had dozens of questions for the informant. Had James Cahill had some previous charge of violence against a woman? Had something happened when he was a teenager, and had the court records been sealed? Had a victim been bought off with some of the Cahill fortune? A dozen questions about Cahill came to mind.

And what had Charity learned tonight?

Nada!

It was so damn frustrating. She’d felt in her gut that something in Cahill’s past, along with the ties to old San Francisco money, had contributed to the mystery surrounding Megan Travers. Something deeper, something darker. But was that true? Or had it just been what it appeared? Out-and-out jealousy that another woman had turned his head, forcing Megan to take off? Was it that simple?

As Charity walked through the cold San Francisco night, she toyed with the idea that Megan, known for her mercurial temper and penchant for drama, might have staged her own disappearance. If she had, why hadn’t she reappeared? Did James know more than he was saying? If so, what?

And then there were the sisters, Rebecca and Megan Travers, both betrayed. Charity had just scratched the surface about them, but she’d made a mental note to dig a little deeper, discover more about them and their involvement with James. And they too had ties to this city.

So all was not lost.