Happy now that the dark clouds have lifted, I laugh. “How on earth do you know such a thing?”
“He built a secret stairway that led directly to his bedroom.”
At the back of the house, she points to a door. “Here. It’s always locked. But the key’s handy enough.” She points to an old rusty hook right next to the door. “Guess it hasn’t been used in quite a while,” she says.
“Let me try.” With a little elbow grease, I get the key to turn. Rather than put it back on the hook, I take it with me. Don’t want somebody dropping in on us.
Upstairs in her grandfather’s bedroom, I don’t waste time in preliminaries. I turn the lock to the door we just came through as well as the one to the second-floor corridor.
“They won’t hear us,” she says, throwing her arms around my neck. “That’s solid oak, too thick for sounds to escape. So we can make as much noise as we want.”
“I’ll do my best to make you scream, then.” I pick her up and lay her on the big four-poster bed.
Before we get down to business, she says, “George Washington slept here, you know.”
“Good for him. But we’re not going to do any sleeping.”
She giggles. “I hope not.”
In no time flat, our clothes fall away. And soon I’m riding her to paradise and back. It takes but a few minutes to find completion. I’ll need to slow it down next time.
“You’re smiling,” I say.
“I’m happy.”
I discovered early on she’s ticklish. So the devil in me goes after her, drumming my fingers up her flank, across her stomach. She laughs so hard she rolls off the bed. I catch her before her head hits the floor. But before I can pull her up, she stops me. “Wait. There’s something down here.”
“Where?”
“Under the bed.”
I let her down easy and crouch next to her. “It’s a box.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” she says to me.
I smack her rump. “Behave. Maybe your grandfather used it for extra storage.”
On all fours, she pulls out the box. And of course my cock notices her ass in the air. As soon as she’s investigated the contents, I’ll pull her back onto the bed and enjoy another bout of hot sex. The metal box, unlike so many ancient things in this house, appears to be brand-new. When she wrestles the lid off, she gasps. Rows of books rest inside.
“What are those?”
She glances at me. Even in the dim light, I see the moisture in her eyes. “My mother’s journals. He never burned them.”
Chapter 20
Cristina
After an hour of listening to Madison extolling the virtues of her boyfriend, Philippe, I was in serious need of a diversion. I searched out Madrigal and Trenton for some grown-up talk, but they were nowhere to be found. So intending to take a leisurely stroll around the mansion, I wandered outside. When I discovered the pool, nothing could keep me from stripping down to my undies and jumping into the pristine blue water.
My parents’ pool in Miami was never heated, so the warmth is a pleasant surprise. After swimming back and forth to work out the kinks, I lie back and float, allowing the water to buoy not only my body but my spirits. As my mind turns inward, I recall how excited I’d been to start my internship at the Department of Justice. Catching the bad guys has always been a dream of mine. I love my work; I really do. But something’s missing.
And I know just what it is. My relationship with Scott never really took off. He doesn’t push my buttons the way a certain bodyguard does. After one look at Hunter Stone, I’d been ready to lick him from head to toe. My body flushes at the thought of that six-foot-something mountain of a man hovering over my body, tasting me, ravishing me.
“Enjoying yourself?” His husky voice drifts over the water, sending my senses soaring. Does he sound real in my imagination or what?
“Umm, yes,” I answer.
“What on earth do you think you’re doing?”
What? I open my eyes to find the object of my fantasy standing at the end of the pool with a scowl a mile wide across his face.
In a hurry, I find the pool’s bottom and stand. “H-Hunter. What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” His big, manly hands are propped on his hips. “You’re out here by yourself swimming in the open. Right now, anybody could be training a rifle on you.”
I wade to the shallower end of the pool. “Why would anybody do that?”
“You’re approximately the same height and build as Madrigal Berkeley, and your hair’s dark just like hers. You could be easily mistaken for her. And yet you’re out here in the dark seemingly without a care in the world.”
“She’s not in danger, is she?”
“Ms. Sanchez. Why do you think she hired me?”
“I don’t know. To find out who killed her grandfather?”
“To protect her, her sister, and the members of the household, which right now includes you.” He swings his arm sideways. “Get out of the pool.”
Darn. Here I was having such a lovely fantasy about him, and now he’s ruined it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” When I climb up the steps and out of the pool, his eyes flash with heat. No wonder. All I’m wearing are a sheer bra and panties. He can see every inch of me.
I grab my clothes from the beach chair I’d thrown them on and drape them in front of me. “Turn around so I can dress.”
For a couple of seconds, his appreciative gaze takes me in from top to bottom, but then he does as I ask.
Leaning back, I jam on my shirt and button it. Wet as I am, the jeans are a lot harder to slide on. At one point I lose my balance and stumble against him. He reaches back and grabs my hip to keep me from falling. His hand lands on the edge of my panties, an inch away from paradise. If he moved his finger just a tad, he’d feel how soaked I am—and not only from the pool.
When I finally wrangle my legs into the jeans and pull up the zipper, I say. “Okay, you can turn around now.”
When he does, the heat in his eyes sets me reeling. Obviously, he’s not unaffected by me, but I can’t start anything with him. Not now. Not when I’m still with Scott and don’t know if I’m going to remain in DC or move back to Florida. If I were to start something with Hunter Stone, it wouldn’t be easy to let go.
Chapter 21
Madrigal
The treasure trove we just discovered makes my heart sing. I thought we’d lost my mother’s diaries to the fire, but for some reason my grandfather kept them. “I have to read them.”
“It’s late, Madrigal. If you start reading them, you won’t stop.”
“It’s not that late. Only a little after eleven.”
“You remember how the last one upset you.”
“Yes, I do.” I know he’s trying to keep me from suffering more hurt. But after studying all the details surrounding my parents’ murders, I’ve toughened up. I’m not the same woman who went crying to him after I read my mother’s final journal. “I’ll be fine, Steele.”
“How far back do they go?”
“To the time she was a teenager . . . Strange.”
“What?”
“The handwriting looks different than I remember.”
“Stands to reason. Your handwriting changes as you get older.”
This great find calls to me, but he’s right. If I start reading now, I won’t quit until I’m done. Tomorrow will be soon enough. I’ll organize them by year. Read the most recent ones first and then work my way backward. I’ll have to read all of them by myself. No one must know I’ve found them. “We’ll have to keep this a secret.”
“I can help you,” he volunteers.
“Steele?” Has he forgotten about my desire to handle the investigation on my own?
“There are at least twenty of them in there.”
I count them. “Twenty-four.”
“And they’re thick. It’ll take you at least a couple of hours to read each one. You’re supposed to be studying for the bar exam.
How far do you think you’ll get if you read your mother’s journals instead?”
I make a face. “Not far.”
“It will go faster if you split the journals between us. I’ll skim them and let you know the important parts so you can zero in on them. Once you have time, you can read them from cover to cover.”
“Fine, but leave the ones surrounding the date of her death to me. Okay?”
“Okay.” He holds out his hand. “Now come back to bed. I’m not done with you yet.”
He doesn’t have to ask me twice, not when he has that spark in his eyes.
At breakfast the next morning, Madison questions our disappearance. “Where did you go last night?”
Wanting to test her reaction, I tell her the truth, or as much of the truth as can be shared in polite company. “Trenton and I went to bed.”
Cristina whoops and then chuckles into her napkin while pink-cheeked Madison struggles against an outburst. It’s touch and go there for a second, but finally all that emerges from my baby sister is “Oh. Okay.”
Steele winks at me, which tells me he approves of how I handled that particular inquiry. Wanting to reward Madison for her newfound maturity, I ask, “Have you heard from Philippe?”
Mouth full of French toast, she takes a moment to respond. “Yes. We’re Skyping in about half an hour.”
The video call should cheer her up. “That’s good. When will he be back?”
She sighs. “Not till August fourth.”
I’ll need to alert Hunter to post someone next to that tree outside Madison’s window. “That’s only a week away. Not that long.”
“It’ll seem like forever. May I be excused? I want to make sure my laptop’s set up for the call.”
“Sure. Say hi to Philippe. I’ll invite him and his parents to dinner when they return.”
Maddy squeals and throws her arms around my neck. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I’ll let him know.” With that long-legged gait of hers, she gallops out of the room.
Hiding a grin, Steele stands up. “Will you excuse me? I have to make some phone calls before we get on with our project.”
“Okay. Find me when you’re done. I’ll be in the evidence room,” I say.
Leaning over, he kisses me. He tastes of syrup and hot, delicious man.
When I manage to get my bearings, I meet Cristina’s gaze. For the first time in all the time I’ve known her, there’s a touch of envy in her eyes. “That man loves you, querida.”
“You think so?”
“Uh-huh. And believe me, I know. He looks at you the same way my father looks at my mother.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about that. Even if it were true. I don’t need any more complications in my life. I have more than I can cope with at the moment.”
She props her chin on her hands. “You handle him really well.”
I laugh. “I don’t handle Steele at all. I can barely keep my head above water around him. He’s so much . . . more than I am. He’s one of the top criminal lawyers in the country, infinitely more sophisticated than me and, needless to say, way better in bed.”
Grabbing her fork, she twirls it in my direction. “Yeah, but you’ve got something he wants.”
“What?” I’m not asking for vanity’s sake. I’m truly curious. Maybe if I knew, I could deal better with him.
“That’s something only you can determine. You fill a need in him, that much is clear.” She folds her napkin and lays it on the table. “And as far as Madison is concerned, I don’t think you need to worry. She’s fine.”
I’d shared my worry about Madison with her, so I appreciate her take on my sister. “You think so?”
“Yes. I did volunteer work at a mental health clinic while in high school, so I’ve seen firsthand people suffering from mental illness. She’s nothing like them. She’s spirited, yes, but I think she was mainly frustrated by the restraints your grandfather imposed on her. With you as her guardian, she’ll blossom.”
I rise from my seat and hug her. “Thanks, Cristina. I’m so glad you dropped by.”
“Anytime, querida. I’ll head back to the evidence room. I want to go over those testimonies again.” Among other things, Detective Collins had sent us his notes on Helga’s testimony and the other witnesses in the case. His summary is the closest thing we have to the actual trial transcript, which we can’t obtain because the court files are sealed. I probably have Gramps to thank for that. No doubt he argued that the gruesome details of the case should not be made public. Stuff leaked out, of course, but the evidence never did. If it hadn’t been for Charlie White’s contacts and Detective Collins’s file, we would be nowhere. So I’m thankful for the evidence we have, even if it’s not complete.
Finished with breakfast, I head to the foyer where Hunter Stone’s on duty. Does the man ever sleep? Yesterday he spent the entire day with us from ten to six. “On duty already?” I ask.
“I just checked in. I wanted to go over the details from last night with John.” John Thompson’s one of his operatives.
“Anything to report?”
“A fence was torn down.”
“Where?”
“About fifty yards south of the stable. I told Hartley. He sent out a repair crew.”
Hartley not only functions as our barn manager and horse trainer but also makes sure the fences in and around the property are in good repair. The last thing he’d want is for one of his horses to escape through a break.
“The cameras didn’t catch it?”
“No.” His tech guy had installed security cameras in and around the estate, but of course they couldn’t capture everything, especially late at night. “With your permission, I’ll post extra guards tonight.”
“Thank you, Hunter.” In gratitude, I pat his arm—just as Steele strides toward us.
His face pinches for a second, but then the expression vanishes. He’s jealous of Hunter Stone. That much is clear. He shouldn’t be. Our head of security may be gorgeous, but he does nothing for me.
“Done with your phone calls?” I ask him.
“Yes.”
“Should we head up then?” Before coming down for breakfast, we’d locked the journals in the filing cabinet in my bedroom.
“Go on up. I’ll meet you in five.”
The air vibrates from the tension between the two men. I don’t know what Steele is going to do, but I’m pretty sure I won’t like it. “Steele?”
“It’s fine, Madrigal. Go on.”
Not much I can do except what he wants. He’s hell-bent on his purpose, whatever it may be. I hope no blood’s spilled. The Aubusson rug they’re standing on dates back to the eighteenth century. I’d hate to see it ruined.
Chapter 22
Trenton
“Stone,” I say, narrowing my gaze. He’s rubbed me the wrong way since day one. Something about him sets off alarms. He’s hiding something. I can feel it deep in my gut.
The son of a bitch smirks. “That would be Mister Stone to you.”
I mirror his expression. Two can play at this game. “But Hunter to Madrigal?” I ask, gritting my teeth.
“She’s my boss and can call me whatever she damn well pleases.” The sexual undertone to that statement is hard to miss.
I’d love to tear the bastard limb from limb. But I have to keep my temper under control if I’m to have any hope of getting information from him. “Who are you?”
He snorts. “I believe we just established that.”
“That’s who you say you are, but that’s not your real name, is it?”
All I get is a raised brow.
“I checked you out. You didn’t exist before 1999. You popped up in the system when you joined the Navy SEALs. Before that? Nada.”
His right shoulder hitches. “Maybe your research missed something.”
“My research is the best there is.” This time I bare my teeth.
“Surely you didn’t ask Charlie? He vouched for me.”
“I have s
ources other than Charlie. He’s not the only one I depend on to get to the truth.”
“Don’t know what I can tell you, then. Obviously, somebody missed something.”
“No, they didn’t.” I step forward right into his personal space. “I’m going to find out who you are if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Doubt it.” The corners of his lips curl up, triggering a memory, one hidden deep in time. Son of a bitch. A glimmer of an idea shimmers to the surface. Something that can’t possibly be. But it would explain a lot.
Well, there’s only one way to find out. I thump his chest. “Stay away from Madrigal, you hear me?”
He slaps my hand away. “Hard to do. She’s my boss, after all.”
“You make any move toward her, and I’ll slice off your nuts, tu pezzo di merda.” You piece of shit.
“Vaffanculo.” Go fuck yourself.
Hiding a smile, I turn and trot up the stairs. I’ve gotten what I need to know. I just have to prove it. And that is something I’m very, very good at.
I enter Madrigal’s bedroom to find her frowning at the pile of books on her bed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Four of the journals are missing. Last night there were twenty-four. Now there are only twenty.”
I glance between her and the place where she’d tucked the diaries. “But you locked the file cabinet.”
“Yes, but I left the key in my desk drawer. Anyone could have gotten it. That was so stupid of me.”
“Hey, don’t beat yourself up.” I rub my hands up and down her arms. “Who knew where you kept the key?”
“Madison, for one. But even if she knew about them, she wouldn’t take them without asking. She knows how important these journals are to the investigation. But honestly, anyone could have taken the key. All they had to do was search my desk.”
“It had to be while we were at breakfast. Maybe we could dust for fingerprints? Charlie has a kit.”
“It wouldn’t do any good. The maids dust every day. Madison loves to snoop.” Her bottom lip trembles. She’s trying hard to be brave, to hide what the loss of the journals means to her.
I drop a kiss on her head and tuck her against me. “Maybe you should ask Hunter to investigate. He’s got cameras throughout the house. Maybe one of them caught somebody going into your room.”
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