Protector (Copper Mesa Eagles Book 3) Read Free Page B

never wavering for a moment. “He’s a real piece of work, and he thinks he can put me out on the street and live in our house with his mistress.”
    There was something weird about the way the woman spoke. She didn’t sound quite upset enough to be hiring a private investigator for a divorce — Ellie saw a lot of tears, angry and otherwise, in her office.
    Besides, Ellie thought. I’m not sure anyone’s ever called their husband’s lover a mistress before, at least in front of me.
    The woman kept smiling, then dug through her enormous purse.
    I’ve heard ‘whore,’ ‘slut,’ ‘new fucktoy,’ and even ‘tart ,’ she thought. Never ‘mistress.’
    “Here he is,” the woman said, handing over a photo. “James Wilson. The asshole himself.”
    She slid a photo across the desk, and Ellie nearly did a double-take.
    It was Garrett.
    Ellie summoned every ounce of will she had and kept her face carefully blank, simply scanning the photo for details. It had been taken from some distance, and Garrett had his hands in his pockets, a leather jacket on, as he walked somewhere.
    “Where was this taken?” she asked, carefully.
    “Outside their love nest,” the woman said, cheerfully. “The address is on the back.”
    Ellie flipped it over and read the address. She forced herself not to think anything , afraid that her face might give away that he’d been there only a few hours ago.
    “I see,” she finally said. “What kind of information are you looking for?”
    “Just anything,” the woman said. “You just gather data and my lawyer can decide what’s useful. You know how it is.”
    Ellie nodded, and the woman stood.
    “Keep the photo.”
    “My rate is seventy bucks an hour plus expenses,” Ellie said — this woman looked like she could afford it.
    “Sounds fine,” the woman said, and held out a card in one well-manicured hand. Marlene Robinson , it read.  
    “Call me when you’ve got something?”
    “Sure thing,” said Ellie. “It’ll be several days, I’ve got a full case load now.”
    The woman smiled again and walked for the door. Ellie noticed she was walking a little gingerly, like maybe her new boots had given her blisters.
    As she left the office, Ellie spotted the rhinestones on the back pockets of her jeans.
    Then the door shut again, and she was alone with the picture of Garrett. Or James. Whatever the fuck his name was.
    “What is going on ?” she said out loud to her empty office.

    * * *

    Ellie twirled spaghetti around her fork as her sister-in-law extolled the virtues of the single, educated, high-earning lawyer she’d shown houses to that day. As a real estate agent, Krissy was always meeting people she deemed suitable for Ellie.
    Well, as long as the main requirement was that a man owned a house.
    “He was telling me that he went to UCLA Law,” Krissy gushed. “And now he’s a junior associate at Banks, Banks, and Jackson, and I hear personal injury law is a goldmine .”
    Not what I hear , Ellie thought.
    “Most of the personal injury lawyers I know aren’t particularly happy,” Ellie said. She sucked the end of a spaghetti noodle into her mouth.
    Or interesting , she thought.
    Unbidden, her mind went to Garrett / James. Again .
    Too interesting , she thought. Mysteriously dead parents, an ex-wife, and a mistress? Too much .
    Not that she necessarily believed the cowgirl. One of the newspaper articles Garrett had scanned onto his flash drive had had a picture of what was clearly himself at fifteen.
    Ellie just didn’t know what to think.
    “So anyway , since he bought the house, I’ve got his number,” Krissy said, winking at Ellie.
    Ellie had forgotten to pay attention.
    “Okay,” she said.
    “Great!” said Krissy. “You know, my friend’s brother also has a friend who just moved here from Denver, and he’s — “
    “Hon, maybe give Ellie one suitor at a time?” her brother said, smiling gently at his wife.
    “I’m sure she can handle a few men at