Her gaze snapped to him. “What do you mean by that?”
He was taken aback by the tone. Lydia rarely sounded perturbed. He took a long drink and peered at her over the glass. Her blue eyes seemed as cold as a mountain lake, and as isolated.
“Something else bothering you?” he asked.
She stared at him, then shook her head. “Perhaps you have other things to worry about than my driver.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. But I’ve told you before, if you insist I have someone drive me around, I want someone I’m comfortable with, someone I might be able to have a conversation with.”
“I understand that, but there are other criteria as well. We need someone who can protect you, if the need arises.”
“I know, you say that all the time.” She sipped some more of her martini. “I’ll make a decision soon. Will that make you happy?”
His brow furrowed as he looked at her. This really was unusual behavior.
“You’re sure everything’s okay?” he asked again.
“Yes.” Lydia set her glass down on a glass-topped coffee table. “Your meeting last night—or should I say early this morning—ran long.”
JD nodded carefully. “Yes.”
“Did you accomplish what you needed to?”
He eyed her. She rarely wanted to know about his business, always assumed everything was being handled. A troubling thought entered his mind. Did she suspect something?
“You know how things can go,” he said. “We didn’t discuss a whole lot. It was more about showing my loyalty, showing that I could be there in any situation.” He didn’t make up anything about who he’d supposedly met with. The less he elaborated on a lie, the less for him to keep track of, the less potential missteps and pitfalls.
She stared at him before answering. “I see.” Then she jumped up. “I’m going to check on dinner.”
“I’ll see you in a bit.”
JD watched her backside as she walked out of the room. She was definitely in a mood, which worried him. And what about her questions? Kline had driven her home after the party last night, and he hadn’t said she’d been suspicious of his supposed meeting. Had she been? Kline was working hard to make sure everything in the past stayed in the past, as well as his latest rendezvous. JD frowned. He couldn’t have everything crumbling down around him. Not now.
He heard Lydia’s voice as she talked to their cook. His wife may have been snippy with him, but nothing could change how he felt about her. JD finished his drink as he looked around the room, decorated for comfort but still expensively. They both liked to collect artwork, and they had several valuable paintings around the house, along with several sculptures. They wanted for nothing. He could lose all that, truly, as long as he didn’t lose Lydia. Being without her would devastate him like nothing else. Another reason why he couldn’t let everything come out.
JD stood up, fixed himself another drink, then moved to the window, looking out to their large yard, which was dominated by a pool with a rock waterfall, slides, and a hot tub. An old question started nagging at him.
Why did he see the others if he loved his wife so much?
He sighed. There were things she wouldn’t do, couldn’t do. Needs the others satisfied. That was the simple answer. He couldn’t stop himself. But Kline was right, he needed to slow down, at least until they could get everything else resolved. Maybe by then he could bring himself to stop completely. That would be the wise thing. But sometimes even smart men weren’t wise.
He finished the second Scotch in a few gulps. Everything would have been okay right now if it hadn’t been for that damned reporter. He’d kept at it, digging until he’d found something. JD set down the glass on a side table with a bang that resonated throughout the room.
How had he found out about that incident?
It should have been buried, with no way for anyone to discover what he’d arranged. But somebody had talked. JD’s eyes narrowed. They still needed to find out who, but then what? They’d already taken care of the reporter—someone else too? There’d be more risk, which he didn’t want.
He just needed everything to blow over. Then he could move on to Washington.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Jo froze in place.
“Hands where I can see them.”
She kept her hands out, but she glanced over her shoulder to the house. Blinds blocked the sliding glass doors, and Atchison was nowhere in sight.
“Do you have any weapons?”
Jo recognized the voice. Detective Holton. She sensed others in the vicinity as well. She shook her head. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
The detective appeared from the shadows, gun drawn. She couldn’t tell what model, but she saw the look on his face. He was angry.
“Don’t move,” he said. “Someone’s going to search you.”
Two more uniformed officers stepped up, flanking her. A woman holstered her weapon, approached Jo, and performed a quick pat-down. She took the knife out of Jo’s pocket and held it up.
“Just this, sir,” the woman said, bagging the weapon.
Holton lowered his gun and stared at Jo. “Are you trying to make a mess of things?”
Jo dodged that question with one of her own. “You talked to Sabrina Padilla?”
He looked past her to the sliding doors, then nodded at the female officer.
“Go with the others,” he told her.