by Lisa Childs
“And while you’ve been working on that, someone’s been trying to kill them,” Sean remarked.
Parker sighed. “I know.”
But it was clear he wasn’t ready yet to let go of his suspicions about the couple. So Sean was glad that he’d talked to Heath, that he’d warned him, just like he’d promised January he would.
But was a warning going to be enough to keep her cousin alive?
* * *
Heath stared at the picture he’d taken from Kylie’s house—the one of her and her grandmother, arms around each other, faces full of pride and happiness as well as a faint wistfulness.
“I didn’t see you take that,” she remarked as she peered across his desk at the picture.
“I grabbed it when I was checking my messages.” And had found the one from Sean Stafford. While she’d spoken with her neighbor on the front porch, Heath had called Sean back.
Anger surged through him now as he recalled what Sean had shared with him. “Why didn’t you tell me about Morrison?” he asked.
She arched a brow. “What about him?”
“How badly he has it out for you.”
She shrugged. “I thought you knew. You said that you figured he wants my job, maybe yours.”
“How badly though?” Heath wondered. “He talked to Sean the other day, trying to cast suspicion on us.”
She groaned. “Like we need to give Parker any excuse to look at us as suspects.”
Their false alibi had done that, had piqued Parker’s suspicions. The guy must have been a human lie detector.
“Why would he want to implicate us?” Heath asked. “Just because he wants our jobs?”
She sucked in a breath, as if bracing herself. “Or maybe to cast suspicion away from himself.”
“You suspect him?”
“Of murder or attempted murder?” She shrugged. “I don’t know. But I have a feeling he’s been up to something else...”
“What?” Heath asked. “Embezzlement?”
“Espionage,” she admitted.
“He’s spying for someone?” he asked. “For whom? And what has he given them?”
“He’s been really interested in the patent that’s pending now.”
“The one with the medical equipment?”
She nodded.
And Heath cursed. “That’s huge. Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted proof,” she said. “But I started telling you the other night.”
And he remembered he hadn’t been interested enough to even let her finish. He’d wanted to talk about the patent instead and leave human resources to her.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She shrugged. “It doesn’t change anything. I still don’t have any proof.”
“Let’s talk to him,” Heath said. Maybe he could play Parker’s role of human lie detector well enough that he could get the traitor to crack. He was furious enough to beat the truth out of the man.
“Just talk?” Kylie asked. “Because he’s a lawyer.”
He grinned. “Worried that he’ll sue me if I use a rubber hose on him?”
“Worried that he knows the law too well to tell us anything that we could use against him,” Kylie said. “I don’t care if you beat him, especially if he had anything to do with the murders.” Her eyes darkened with emotion, but it wasn’t just grief over his dad and uncle. She was furious, too.
That was why she knew him so well. They were very alike in so many ways.
“Maybe I’ll have to hold you back,” he mused.
But when Tyler Morrison joined them in Heath’s office at her request, she said nothing to the man—almost as if she didn’t trust herself to speak.
Heath had no such problem. “What the hell are you up to, Morrison?”
The man’s eyes widened in feigned innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve just been trying to help out now more than ever given the situation.”
“Let me clarify that the situation you’re talking about is the cold-blooded murders of my dad and uncle,” Heath said.
The guy’s head bobbed in a quick nod, but none of his slicked-back hair moved. “Of course. I just didn’t want to dredge up bad memories.”
“It just happened,” Heath said. Not that he was ever going to forget the men or what had been done to them.
“Of course, I know that,” he said. “Do you even have plans for the funerals yet?”
“My mom and aunt are working on those.” He’d missed another voice mail from his mother, probably providing him with the details. The thought filled him with dread.
“Well, I would like to attend, of course,” Tyler continued.
Heath snorted and shook his head. The guy was too damn slick—even for a lawyer. “I am curious about what you’d like, Tyler. Kylie’s job? My job?”
The guy’s face flushed and he stammered, “I—I don’t know what you’re accusing me of.”
“Not murder.” Not yet. “Which is what you basically accused the two of us of having done when you spoke with Detective Stafford the other day.”
Tyler shook his head. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The man’s dating my cousin,” Heath said. “In fact I’m pretty sure they’re going to get married, so he’s almost family. He told me what you said about Kylie, about us.”
The man’s face flushed a deeper shade of red now. “I’m sorry that I don’t trust you.” He glanced at Kylie now. “Either of you, especially after what happened to your dad and uncle. My allegiance was to them. They were the heart and soul of this company.”
Heath’s eyes burned again, and it wasn’t just because he was tired. He was touched that at least about Pop and Uncle Alfie the man spoke the truth. “They were the heart and soul,” Heath agreed.
“And the brains,” Tyler added. “You and Ms. Givens are in over your heads.”
Heath snorted. “I’ve been CEO for a while, Morrison. Kylie my VP. What do you think we can’t handle that we haven’t been handling successfully for years?”
“Arvock Pharmaceuticals.”
“What about Arvock?” Kylie said, finally joining in the conversation. Her gaze was intent on Morrison’s face. “What do you know about them?”
The lawyer shrugged. “Just that they’re going to do everything they can to stop the latest patent from going through.”
“How the hell do they know about it?” Kylie asked. “You told them, didn’t you? You sold them information.”
Heath cursed. “You son of a bitch! You’re terminated right now.”
“On what grounds?” Tyler asked. “You have no proof.”
“You pretty much just admitted it,” Heath reminded him. “Very few people knew about that invention. You looked over the paperwork for the patent for me, so you were one of the few.”
Tyler shook his head again. “You still won’t be able to prove it.”
“I’ll ask them,” Heath said.
The man’s face blanched now. “You—you should stay the hell away from them.”
“Why? What else are they going to tell me about you?” Heath wondered. “That you killed my dad and uncle?”
“I’m no killer,” Tyler insisted. “I—I had nothing to do with their murders.” He glanced at Kylie again and then at him. He really did have suspicions about them.
Which meant he was so mercenary that he understood people killing to get ahead.
“We would never do anything to hurt Ernie or Alfie,” Kylie spoke in their defense. “And now there have been attempts on our lives.”
Tyler nodded. “Of course there have. I told you Arvock is not going to let that patent go through. You’re messing with the wrong people.”
Heath sucked in a breath. Just how dangerous was this company? He intended
to find out if they were dangerous enough to actually kill off their competition.
“Get the hell out of here,” he told Tyler. “And take all your stuff with you. You’re not going to be allowed back in the building.” He would make sure the man’s ID badge was deactivated and that security and all the other employees knew he was barred from the offices.
“We’ll see about that,” Tyler said. “The wills haven’t even been read yet. You might be the one leaving soon, Heath, and taking your little plaything with you.”
Heath jumped up from his desk then, ready to reach for and throttle the slimeball. But Tyler left then—in one hell of a hurry.
“What a little creep,” he remarked as he unclenched his fists. He’d never wanted to hit anyone more than he had Morrison.
“He is a creep,” Kylie agreed wholeheartedly. “But is he a killer?”
“I almost want it to be him,” Heath admitted. Just so that he would have the opportunity to beat the hell out of the man. Then he would turn him over to Detective Parker with a ribbon tied around his scrawny neck.
“Me, too,” Kylie admitted. “But I never knew him to have a problem with Ernie or Alfie.”
“No,” Heath agreed. “But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have killed them if he thought he’d profit off it.”
“He’s not the one who will profit the most if that patent doesn’t go through,” Kylie pointed out.
“Arvock Pharmaceuticals,” he murmured. “But why would they break into your place and how the hell would they know where you live?”
“You don’t think that drug company has the resources to find out where I live?” she asked.
Arvock was a billion-dollar corporation. They had resources, resources to find out where she lived and break in looking for information on that patent. They also had resources to hire an assassin to kill his father and uncle and now him and Kylie.
His hand shaking, he reached for his phone.
“Are you calling Parker?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, I’m calling Arvock Pharmaceuticals.”
She gasped. “What? Why?”
“Because I want an appointment with the CEO. I want to find out if they’re the ones who killed Pop and Uncle Alfie and if they’re trying to kill us.”
She snorted now—derisively. “And you think they’re going to agree to meet with you where they’ll just confess everything to you?”
He shook his head. “No. But I’ll know, just the same way that Parker knew we were lying about that alibi—I’ll know.”
“The only way you’ll know for sure is if they try to kill you while you’re talking to them.”
“That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
* * *
Kylie hadn’t packed a ball gown for her stay at the penthouse, so she had nothing to wear but a black dress that might, in a pinch, pass for a cocktail dress for a night on the town. Hopefully that was all this black-tie event was that they were crashing.
“You should have stayed at the penthouse,” Heath admonished her from the driver’s seat of the vehicle he’d borrowed from his mother.
He, of course, owned his own tuxedo, and in the crisp black bow tie and pleated shirt, he looked like a movie star. So damn handsome.
Kylie hadn’t wanted to leave the penthouse. She hadn’t wanted to leave his bedroom. But he’d been too focused on confronting the monsters he suspected had murdered his dad and uncle.
“I wasn’t going to let you do this alone,” Kylie said.
“For my sake or theirs?” he asked. He was that angry, the rage glinting in his blue eyes.
“Yours.” She wasn’t just worried about what might happen to him, though. She was worried about what he might do. She reached across the console and squeezed his leg. The muscles in his thigh tensed beneath her hand.
He emitted a little groan. “Kylie...”
She smiled. “Let’s go back to the penthouse,” she suggested.
“And leave the investigating to Parker?” he asked with a sniff of disdain. “He’d never check up on this. Arvock isn’t related to any of the Coltons, and he seems determined to pin this on a Colton.”
She shook her head. “Just on you.” She released a weary sigh. “I know you’re right.” She’d already determined that Parker wasn’t going to find the killer. She had to. “We need to do the investigating ourselves.”
“Myself,” he said. “You don’t need to get involved in this.”
“I’m already involved,” she said. “I was with you when someone tried running us down and when those shots were fired at your vehicle—”
“That’s why you shouldn’t be with me now,” he said. “It puts you in danger.”
“And my place was broken into,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “My stuff damaged. I am part of this, and I am going with you.” Because she wouldn’t be able to return to her place until the threat to her life was gone and the longer she stayed with him the more danger she was in.
Of losing her heart.
“You’ve gone,” he muttered as he parked the vehicle in one of the last available spaces in a corner lot that was open to the elements. “We’re here. Well, we’re as close as one of us is going to get to the hotel.”
Since they weren’t staying at it, they hadn’t been allowed to park in that garage. So he’d been circling the downtown area for a while, looking for any open spaces.
“What are you saying?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.
He didn’t shut off the vehicle, just turned toward her. “You’re going to stay in the vehicle.”
“Alone?” she asked. “Vulnerable?”
It was the argument she’d used to get him to let her go with him. Of course he’d countered that she would have been safe in the penthouse, but she’d let him know that if he wasn’t there, she might be compelled to leave.
The twinge of guilt she felt for manipulating him was only a little one. Sticking together was the safest for both of them because they were both in danger no matter where they were.
Even his penthouse.
Because if they’d stayed there, they would have had sex again. And again...
And every time they had, she’d felt closer to him and closer to falling for him. What had started out as curiosity about their chemistry had become something so much more powerful and compelling.
But once the killer was caught, she would have to move out. Heath didn’t live with women. He didn’t commit to them.
Because she knew him so well, she’d thought she was safe from getting attached to him. But she was afraid that she might have thought wrong.
About herself...
About him...
About everything...
Because once he walked around and opened her door and she stepped out of the car, she felt that strange sensation again. Someone was watching them.
Chapter 20
The bar was busy, which was good. Jones needed to keep busy, to keep his mind off...
Everything. His dad. Uncle Alfie. Heath.
He couldn’t believe what had happened after he’d left Aunt Farrah’s yesterday. Someone had shot at Heath. Carly had come into the bar in tears, distraught that they could have lost another loved one.
And despite how much they razzed each other, Jones did love his big brother. He would never be like Heath, who was totally like Pop, but he loved him. Just as he’d loved Pop.
If only...
He blinked and turned back toward the patrons. He was tending the bar tonight, working behind the twenty-foot-long structure of reclaimed wood and metal. God, he loved the Lone Wolf, the brewery he’d started in the West Loop, but the rush of pride he usually felt during a busy night didn’t lift his spirits.
Nothing could right now.
But he forced a welcoming expression, if not
quite a smile, for the guy who slid onto a just vacated stool. “What can I get you?”
“Jones?” the man asked.
In a tailored suit, with his dark hair slicked back, the guy didn’t look like the usual patron, but then quite a mixture of people patronized the microbrewery. So Jones wouldn’t have been unsettled if not for how Detective Parker had showed up a couple of nights ago just like this.
In a suit, with the same question.
He thought about shaking his head, about denying who he was. But someone called out a good night to him and he automatically waved at the departing guest.
“Yeah,” he replied to the man. “What can I get you?”
“Uh...” The guy glanced at the large beer tanks behind the bar, his beady eyes widening slightly at the sight of the system that created all Jones’s microbrews. “Do you only have beer? No wine?”
“We have wine,” Jones said. “White and red.”
“Uh, white? Chardonnay? Sauvignon blanc?”
A smile twitched at Jones’s lips, but he suppressed it. “White and red.”
The female bartender working with Jones emitted a soft chuckle and stepped in to ask, “Which would you like? Chardonnay or sauvignon blanc?”
“The sauvignon,” the man replied with a disdainful sniff.
No. This guy didn’t belong here, but Jones doubted he was a detective. Parker had asked Jones as many questions about his beers as he had about his alibi for that night and about Heath and Kylie.
Who knew?
The two of them?
They made sense, though—about the only thing that actually made sense lately. When Becky handed the stemless wineglass to the slick guy, Jones started to step back, but the man reached out—not for the glass—but for his arm.
“Don’t go,” he said. “I need to tell you what I can do for you.”
“Oh...” He nodded with sudden understanding that the guy was a sales rep. “You sell restaurant supplies?”
The guy’s forehead creased with confusion, and he shook his head. “No. I work for you.”
Jones snorted at the guy’s weak sales spiel. “No, you don’t.”
