“Licensed by the state of California,” Briggs finished for him. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. Well, we know who you’re working for. Now tell us why.”
The investigator just flared his nostrils.
“The cops will be here any minute, bro. It’s your call how this goes down.”
A look of resignation shaded Will’s face before he said, “She wants to make sure she’s not dating… you.”
“What?” Briggs asked.
“She wants her dating some famous guy. Particularly someone with a bad boy image or whatever. So, she had me snoop around to see if you two were in fact dating.”
“There are more of you, huh?”
The guy didn’t seem to like that Briggs had guessed that, but he nodded.
“Yeah, I saw two of your buddies back at the restaurant.” Briggs shook his head in disgust. “A word of advice: they stared. I’m not a private eye, but I’m guessing the goal is to blend in and not stand out like a sore thumb.”
“Look, can I go now? I told you what you want to know.”
Briggs looked at his-now-girlfriend. “Honey? Your call. This is your place.”
“Go,” she said. “But don’t ever let me find you spying on me again or I’ll turn you in. The statute of limitations gives me a while to report this.”
The guy looked relieved before quickly spinning around.
“Not over the fence,” she said. “The gate unlocks from the inside.”
He nodded. “I, uh, need to collect my ladder.” He jerked his head toward the fence.
So that’s how he’d made it over.
They watched him go and then once they were alone, Briggs said, “You better call off the cops. And by the way, next time I tell you to do something, you need to do it, little missy. I’m Daddy. You’re my Little. Got it?”
She smiled, and Briggs made a mental note that he’d have to tighten up and get a little stricter.
Because right now, that smile was so perfect and Riley was so adorable that there was no way he’d be able to discipline her.
Lord have mercy!
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was ten the following morning when Riley called Rita.
She had debated on whether or not she’d bring up last night’s private investigator incident. Finally, she realized the intruder himself probably spilled it all. There was no reason to act like it hadn’t happened.
The trick, she figured, was finding a balance between her anger—which was real—and her desire to reel Rita into what she and her new friends had affectionally dubbed “the brat trap.”
“Look, I know why you’re calling,” the agent said by way of greeting. “And I get why you’re not happy.”
“Yeah. Someone was?—”
“But you need to understand that I’m doing this for you. I’ve had my guys check out this Briggs Mullaney guy.” She paused and said, “That’s right. I know his name. My guys are good.”
Riley rolled her eyes. Finding out Briggs’s name wouldn’t be too difficult. She wasn’t overly impressed.
“He’s a damn painter, Riley. Imagine if the press finds that out! One of the hottest up-and-coming stars in Hollywood is in love with a guy who paints houses.”
Now Riley was pissed. She stood from her couch and started angrily pacing her living room, clutching the phone tighter as she said, “Leave Briggs out of this.”