31 • Top of Pelham

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I met Connor outside Top of Pelham, one of Newport's piano bars, right off busy Thames Street. We ducked inside the crowded restaurant and grabbed a table near the bar. Jazz music and the loud chatter of friends filled the space with the kind of carefree-summer atmosphere you could only find here.

I ordered a glass of white wine and a bowl of red clam chowder while Connor sipped ice water and picked at fish and chips.

"So," I asked casually, blowing on a steaming spoonful of soup, "how was Lianna's oyster bake?"

Connor shrugged. "It was good."

I took a bite, trying to puzzle out his hesitant answer. "Did you two like... you know? Have a good time?"

I watched Connor flush as red as my soup. I had no idea why I asked him that, and suddenly I was taking a sip of wine to cover up my own blush.

"What do you mean?"

I shook my head and stirred my soup. Finding the scratched wooden table more interesting than it was. "Never mind. It's none of my business."

The cute naval officer hadn't worn his uniform to our meeting—thankfully. He was wearing a barely blue button-down shirt and charcoal dress pants. A gold cross hanging in the bare patch of skin his open collar revealed.

"Oh, you mean..." Connor let out a laugh. "No, not at all! She's not really my type."

I brushed off my instant relief as my protective nature surging. "Whatever. I saw the way you were smiling at her in my office. Lianna is everyone's type."

Including my boyfriend's.

"Well, she's not mine. I'm sorry if it came off that way. I've been told I smile too much."

We both let out the same awkward laugh we had on the dance floor at Easton's wedding. "And believe me when I say Lianna is not my type."

"Then why did you go?"

Why did I keep asking him about Lianna? I didn't care. I'd come here to talk about the admiral.

Connor seemed to hesitate, studying the rim of his ice water. "I don't know. Meet new people, I guess. Besides, I thought you might come."

I swallowed another spoonful of soup. Connor had set down his fork and was staring at me with clear blue eyes. We really needed to get back on topic.

"So, what is this important update you wanted to give me?"

I focused my attention on the piano player getting settled in front of a massive baby grand while I waited for his reply.

"He's been acting... weird this week. I can't describe it, but Admiral Tenney has been even more on edge than usual." Connor paused, then said, "I want to know more about this private detective you met. He hasn't tried contacting me for an interview."

I nervously spun my wine glass. Thinking back on my last meeting with Jack. I described him and what he was trying to figure out. Connor listened attentively while munching on his fries.

When I was done, Connor asked, "Let me get this straight—a private detective just asked you to come along on an interview?"

I eyed him curiously. "Yeah, so?"

Connor let out a nervous laugh. "Well, that sounds kinda fucked up. I mean, that can't be protocol. Who hired him?"

"I don't know. He said it was confidential."

As the words left my mouth, I saw Connor's look darken. He shook his head and took another sip of water.

"What do you really know about this guy?"

I reached inside my purse and pulled out Jack's business card. I was weirdly offended that he doubted Jack's credentials.

Connor pulled out his phone and started typing on the screen. He pulled up a website and offered me his phone. "Is this the Jack Dougherty you met with?"

I stared at the little picture on his screen. My voice caught in my throat. No. That wasn't Jack. That was someone else.

"What? No. That can't be right," I said. Connor pulled his phone back and flicked through the website. "He is a private detective. He's knowledgeable. This must be some mistake," I added.

Connor leaned across the table, his clear blue eyes filled with intensity as they stared into mine. "You know, sometimes people aren't what they seem. Sometimes, people keep secrets—things they wish they could share—but can't."

Jazz music drifted through the crowded bar. Friends laughed, glasses rang together. I sat frozen in place, hand gripping my glass of wine. Could Jack have lied to me? If so, why? It didn't make any sense. But, the longer Connor looked into my eyes, the more I started to believe he might be right.

"I have my doubts about what's going on. That's why I wanted to see you. I need you to be careful."

Our eyes met again, and I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this story. The way Connor was staring at me made me wonder if he had a secret, too.

"Will you trust me? Trust that I don't want anything to happen to you."

A tendril of heat snaked up my neck, and I couldn't help it. My gaze lingered on the way his collared shirt clung to muscled arms.

I shook off the momentary flash of heat and took a sip of wine.

"I take it you haven't told South about any of this. Meeting with this Jack and going up to Castle Hill Inn with this detective?"

"No. Not after that dinner. I didn't want to upset him."

"Camilla, listen to me. You need to let this go," Connor said imploringly. "You're already walking a thin line. We don't even know who this man is. Anything could have happened to you, and no one would've known. Think about what that would have done to the people that care about you. Don't be reckless just for the sake of being reckless."

I let that thought simmer. Fake. Fake. Fake. Everything in my life seemed to be one big lie. I was sick and tired of it.

"Jack may be lying about who he is, but I don't think he was lying about the information," I said definitively. Leaning in and dropping my voice. "Les Tenney is up to something, and I'm going to find out what it is."

"Camilla—" Connor's eyes sharpened, and I watched as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. "Please tell me you're not planning on doing anything rash."

Rash? I wouldn't call my plan rash. I'd call it... creative. When I'd called Stella earlier, she seemed more than eager to have me help waitress with her. "I'm going undercover at Castle Hill Inn."

"Undercover? Camilla, do you hear yourself? This isn't some game. This man is—"

Connor's words snapped off, and I was left waiting for what he might say. What had Connor seen?

"You know exactly what he is, don't you?" I asked.

"I have an inkling."

"An inkling?" I repeated. "And how long are you going to wait to do something about it? Until someone gets hurt?" Tears pricked in the back of my throat, and I knew I should shut my mouth, but I couldn't. "Or when he causes a drunk driving accident because no one cared to find out what he was up to, and he leaves Castle Hill one night after one of his sexcapades and kills someone."

Connor's lips popped open, and sympathy crinkled the corners of his bright blue eyes. He reached across the table, and warm hands found mine. "That's not going to happen, Camilla. Trust me."

A beat passed between us before I pulled my hands away. "You don't know that."

No one could predict the future. No one knew what tomorrow might bring. But I knew what I needed to do. For my sister. And for the future I so badly wanted with South.

A waitress clad in all black strolled by and tapped Connor on the shoulder. "You two need refills?"

Connor didn't look away from me when he pulled out his wallet and extracted a credit card. "No, we're leaving. I'll settle the tab."

When the waitress was gone, Connor was tapping his finger on the wooden table and looking like he might explode before he said whatever was on his mind.  "Let me come with you tonight."

I stared back at him in shock. He was kind of a klutz. In fact, I was surprised he hadn't knocked a glass off the small table. But more importantly, Les Tenney knew exactly what Connor looked like.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Hear me out," Connor said quickly. "I can drive us there and make sure you are safe. You know, be your backup. Just in case you need to get out quick." Then he grinned, adding, "Isn't that how they do it in the movies? Isn't there always a sidekick?"

I let out a laugh despite the situation. "Are you sure? I know you have your career to think about."

Connor took the receipt and his card back from the waitress when she strolled by. "I'm more worried about you. So, let me do this. Okay?"

Our eyes met once again, and I found myself saying, "Okay."

A/N

I do love writing Connor! He is so sweet!

So, Jack Dougherty isn't quite what he seems? 👀

Let's see how this all unfolds.

xx
AJ

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