by Karen Rose
He smiled at her. ‘The vengeance dude clinched it.’
She smiled back, then sobered. ‘What is 42N by 82W?’
‘Coordinates.’ Diesel looked it up on the map. ‘In Lake Erie, a few miles offshore.’
She looked over his shoulder. ‘Near Cleveland. That’s her heaven, in the lake. I bet they dumped her ashes there. And Brothers Grim Consulting? Could this be her family, looking for revenge?’
He returned to the window with the list of companies. ‘It’s certainly possible. Like I said, we can run with the theory for a while.’
She frowned at his screen. ‘It’s . . . all here, for anyone to figure out.’
‘Anyone who can untangle the business entities and who knows about white coat ceremonies and Scioto Hall,’ Diesel countered.
‘True. But why would they do this? I could make a few phone calls tomorrow and get her name. Why would the vengeance dude be so careless?’
‘Maybe he isn’t being careless. Maybe he – or they – wanted someone to know. Maybe they wanted someone to be afraid – if whoever they’re aiming for took the time to figure it out. I’m betting the “Brothers Grim” didn’t believe anyone would. They’re operating under the radar. Way under.’
‘It still doesn’t make sense. Why go to all the trouble of tangling the companies if they wanted someone to figure it out? Why name them the way they did in the first place? Why give away the clues?’
‘Good questions. I don’t know. It’s still possible that LJM isn’t a person at all.’
She speared him with an intense look. ‘Do you believe that?’
‘No,’ he admitted. ‘I think LJM is a person and someone’s out to avenge her. But it’s not simple. None of this is simple.’
Dani rubbed at her temples. ‘I still don’t see how this connects to Brewer. Except that he was murdered shortly after LJM bought his house. That could be a coincidence.’
He tilted his head. ‘Do you believe that?’
The slight eye-roll was the only indication that she’d recognized that he’d once again used her exact words. ‘Deacon always says that there are no coincidences.’
‘That’s been my experience as well. Also, I can’t find any record of money changing hands for the house, which was what raised my initial suspicions,’ Diesel reminded her. ‘LJM is cash-rich. Why park money in the company if they had no intention of spending it?’
‘Cash-rich? How much money are we talking about?’
‘A million, give or take.’
Her eyes widened. ‘A million dollars? How do you even know that?’
‘I shouldn’t, actually. Ohio small businesses don’t have to file annual reports, so there’s no formal record of LJM’s net worth.’ He minimized the list of companies, and opened another document. ‘I found this on Brewer’s computer. It’s a copy of LJM’s bank statement, dated March first. There’s no letterhead and no signature on the attached note, which is handwritten and dated March second. The name of the bank and all account and routing info was redacted. Both the note and the statement were scanned and saved to Brewer’s hard drive.’
‘“Dear Mr Brewer,”’ Dani read softly. ‘“As you can see, all is in order. You will transfer the title to your house as agreed and then we will forward the payment.”’ She looked up at him, eyes narrowing. ‘This bank statement clearly says LJM. So the company and Brewer are connected somehow. You could have led with that, you know,’ she added grumpily.
‘I’m sorry.’ He truly was. ‘I didn’t mean to keep it from you. We got wrapped up in the businesses and I got distracted.’ By more than the business names. It was becoming harder to focus every moment she sat beside him, her scent filling his head.
‘It’s okay.’ She bit her lip, distracting him even more. He stared at her mouth, wanting to be the one doing the biting.
Easy. Back off. Give her time, however much she needs. She was talking again and he needed to listen. He jerked his gaze back to her eyes. ‘What?’
She shot him a knowing look, her cheeks flushing prettily. ‘I said, LJM clearly planned to send the money once they got the deed. But after Brewer transferred the deed, he went missing and they couldn’t find him to pay him. Maybe they were waiting for him to show up and accept payment for his house. Brewer’s only been dead for a week or so.’
‘Killed by a mysterious big bald guy,’ Diesel reminded her.
She frowned. ‘So are we saying that the mysterious big bald guy who killed Brewer is actually Raguel? He’s the avenging angel? That sounds like an even bigger leap than I made by assuming LJM was a person.’
‘It is a leap, but it’s a possibility we should consider. The bald guy could have nothing to do with LJM. Brewer was a piece of work. It makes sense that he had enemies. It could be completely unrelated. All we know is that LJM got his house.’
Dani’s frown deepened. ‘But why does LJM want the Brewer house? And won’t they have to ID themselves if they want to take possession of it?’
‘Not necessarily. They could use a third party to close the deal and throw Brewer’s wife and the boys out.’
‘If they were still in the house,’ Dani said fiercely. ‘Which they are not and, if I have anything to say about it, never will be again.’
Diesel stared at her for a long, long moment, his heart beating double-time. What might his life have been like if he’d had a Dani Novak in his corner when he’d been a terrified little boy?
‘Thank you,’ he whispered, his throat gone rough. ‘Thank you for protecting these kids and all the others who come through your home.’
She swallowed hard, her eyes becoming bright with tears. ‘You, too,’ she whispered back. ‘You are protecting these kids. You brought Michael and Joshua to me. You’ve protected children every time the Ledger runs a story on a pedophile who’s been caught or exposed. You don’t think I know who’s responsible for those investigations? Who’s hacked into computer systems to get evidence or to find these bastards’ other crimes that put them in jail and away from innocents? I’m not stupid, nor unaware.’ Her hand slid over his forearm in almost a caress before gripping him tight. ‘You do this. You protect the children, too. So thank you.’
Diesel closed his laptop, his own eyes stinging. ‘I . . .’ He cleared his throat and started again. ‘I can’t look at this screen anymore tonight. I need to sleep.’
Immediately releasing him, she moved to stand, but he gently grabbed her hand. ‘I’ll do a walk-around first. I won’t be able to sleep until I know you’re secure.’
‘All right. I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow. Can you sleep on this sofa? Deacon has before, but you’re . . .’ She trailed off, eyeing him up and down in a way that could only be called appreciative. In a way that heated his blood yet again. ‘You’re taller than he is.’
That hadn’t been what she’d been about to say, but he didn’t challenge her. ‘I’ll be fine. I’ve slept on a lot worse.’
‘But I don’t want you to be uncomfortable here,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t have any spare beds now, or I’d—’
He pressed a fast, soft kiss to her mouth because he thought he’d explode if he didn’t. ‘I’ll be fine. I promise.’ Then he stood, careful to keep his laptop positioned over his groin, because his cock wanted to be in her bed. With her.
In her. He shuddered, barely able to bite back a groan when she looked up at him, her eyes gone dark with desire. She wants me. Thank God.
But he didn’t make a move. Not yet. Not like this. Not with two kids upstairs who might come down at any moment. Not until she completely trusts me. Not until she tells me that she wants me. Out loud.
Patience, he told himself. He’d been patient for eighteen months. He could last a little while longer.
He took a step back, putting necessary distance between them, feeling a spear of satisfaction when her face fell in obvious disap
pointment. ‘Get Hawkeye,’ he said. ‘I’ll walk him while I do my perimeter check.’
Ten
Lawrenceburg, Indiana
Sunday, 17 March, 1.15 A.M.
Grant Masterson’s feet hit the dock and he drew a strangled breath of frustration. An hour and a half sitting in that damn riverboat casino and he hadn’t heard or seen anything resembling the poker game he’d been looking for, even after ‘getting lost’ in the upper level. But he knew that the matchbook was the invitation. He’d picked up another matchbook from the bar and, while the front was the same, the back had been different, printed with the full name of the riverboat and its address. There had been no fancy gold writing on the inside.
He had to figure out how to get an invite to the game. He needed to find Wesley’s contact. Richard.
He leaned against the small fence surrounding the dock, listening as guests straggled off the riverboat. Some complained about the rigged games. A few crowed over their winnings, but they were definitely in the minority.
But the games that people were complaining about were the vanilla variety. Slots, blackjack. Nobody mentioned a high-stakes game. If they weren’t invited to it, they wouldn’t know about it.
He had a gut feeling that the game he wanted was exclusive and, if the cash Wes had been throwing around was any indication, only for the very rich.
He ducked into the shadows and waited another hour for the riverboat’s employees to begin filing out as the shift changed. One of the last out was the woman who’d been called over to settle a dispute between a dealer and a guest. She’d identified herself as the manager. Hopefully she knew Richard.
Grant followed her to her car, stepping into the light from the street lamp as the woman was pulling her keys from her purse. ‘Excuse me,’ he said quietly.
She gasped and spun around, a small spray can in her hand. ‘I have no money!’
Shit. Pepper spray. That’s all I need tonight. Grant froze, his hands where she could see them. ‘I’m not trying to rob you. I swear.’
Her eyes darted back and forth frantically, but they were alone in the parking lot. She tilted her body to bring the pepper spray closer to his face, her eyes narrowing. ‘I saw you tonight. In the casino. Not drinking and not gambling. Why are you following me?’
‘I’m looking for Richard.’
She didn’t move, her finger still on the spray tab. ‘He wasn’t working tonight.’
‘Not working on a Saturday night? That doesn’t make sense.’
She gave him a haughty look. ‘He’s the owner. He can work when he likes.’
The owner? he thought, irritated. Could have mentioned that, Wesley. But at least this was helpful information. ‘When will he be working again?’
‘Not until Wednesday. Why?’
‘I want to talk to him.’ Grant drew a breath, wishing he had his brother’s talent for effortlessly spinning tales. ‘I’m in town for the week for a convention and I heard he has an exclusive poker game going. I wanted to get an invite.’
She shook her head. ‘All of our games are played in the open, right on the floor. Nothing special, nothing exclusive.’
But her eyes had flickered, just a little. She knew, all right.
‘I have several friends who’ve played,’ he tried again, but he could hear his own desperation. ‘They say it’s a high-stakes game. Just what I’m looking for. They all said to ask for Richard.’
‘Sorry, can’t help you. Can you go away now? I’d like to go home and I’m not putting this pepper spray down until you’re a block away.’
Grant’s jaw tightened. ‘I suppose I have no choice. You say Richard will be back on Wednesday?’
‘That’s right. Now leave or I’ll scream for the cops.’
He wanted to tell her to go ahead, but because he wasn’t sure what Wes was doing, he backed away, his hands still up. ‘I’m leaving. Relax, lady.’
She glared at him until he was out of her visual range, and he watched as she unlocked her car with shaking hands.
At least he knew which Richard he was looking for. He’d go back to Wes’s penthouse apartment, get online, then figure out the last name of the man who owned the Lady of the River casino. And where that man lived.
Hang on, Wesley. I’m here, looking for you. Just . . . be all right, okay?
But he had a sinking feeling that he was already too late.
Cincinnati, Ohio
Sunday, 17 March, 9.30 A.M.
It was a beautiful day. Blue cloudless sky, fresh ocean air on her face, the rumble of the powerful Harley between her thighs as they rounded curve after curve, the waves crashing against the rocks below. Her arms were wrapped tightly around a solid waist, her cheek pressed against a broad muscular back.
She was happy. Again.
And then she wasn’t, because the motorcycle engine revved. She was standing off to the side, watching helplessly as it careened over the cliff, hanging suspended in mid-air for long, long seconds while the face she’d loved stared at her with hatred.
You did this, he said. I hope you’re happy now. You killed me. Then Adrian dropped out of the sky to the rocks below and she screamed and screamed.
Dani woke up with a jerk, her heart racing, her mouth open, her breath coming in jagged pants. Caught in that moment when she wasn’t sure what was real and what was the dream. Was she awake? Had she actually screamed out loud this time? She lay motionless, getting her bearings. Thinking it through.
Her throat was dry, but it didn’t hurt, so she probably hadn’t screamed out loud. She didn’t do that every time she had the dream. And she smelled bacon and coffee, so she was awake.
Someone was making breakfast.
Diesel. Oh God. Diesel Kennedy was in her kitchen, making breakfast for the boys. Michael and Joshua. Who need me.
So pull yourself together, Danika. Put Adrian out of your mind and focus on those two kids. Who need you.
Easier said than done. The dream always left her shaken and filled with self-loathing. Not the face she wanted to show the boys. Who need me.
It was a mantra that worked. Had worked ever since she’d been sixteen years old and suddenly responsible for her infant brother. Greg needs me. It got her out of bed every morning as she’d raised him, even though she’d completely botched that job. It worked every day that she woke up now, wishing she could just . . .
She wasn’t sure what. Be somewhere else? Be someone else? But the clinic needed her. The patients who had no other health-care choices needed her.
Michael and Joshua need you. So move your ass and be who they need. Do not let them down.
Like she’d let Adrian down. He’d needed her, but she’d been selfish. So damn selfish. Adrian was dead, gone out in a blaze of glory. And, like it or not, it’s my fault.
She drew another breath, relieved that her heart no longer threatened to beat free of her chest. She had regained enough control that she was able to force a smile when her bedroom door opened slowly, and a little face cautiously peeked in.
‘Good morning, Joshua. You can come in, but next time knock first, okay?’
His face pinched. ‘I’m sorry. Coach told me to, but I forgot.’
‘It’s okay.’ And it was. She always slept in sweats when she had foster kids in the house, so that she’d be decent if one of them needed her during the night.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and found her fuzzy slippers, wriggling her toes as she slid her feet inside. The comfort took the remaining edge off the unsteady feeling left by the nightmare.
Joshua giggled. ‘I like your slippers.’
She shoved the remnants of remembered horror from her mind as she lifted her foot. ‘So do I. Big Bird always makes me happy. Did you sleep okay last night?’
Joshua nodded, but his smile dimmed. He ducked his head back into the hall
for a moment before returning to meet Dani’s eyes. ‘Michael slept on my floor.’
‘I know.’ Dani gently tousled the boy’s hair. ‘I got up to check on you in the middle of the night and he was there.’ And it had broken her heart. Children needed to feel safe, but it was clear that Michael didn’t trust her. Yet. That was okay, though. ‘He probably wanted to be there in case you woke up in the night and didn’t know where you were.’
Joshua gave her one of those old-soul looks that said he knew so much more than he should. ‘He’s scared.’
‘Well, he’s allowed to be, but he’ll get used to me and then he’ll know that you’re safe here.’
‘I know already.’ Joshua punctuated his words with a hard nod. ‘You gave him a blanket.’
‘I didn’t want him to be cold while he was taking care of you.’
‘He’s always taking care of me, but I can’t take care of him,’ Joshua said sadly. ‘I’m too little. Everyone says I’m too little to do anything.’
Dani knelt in front of him. ‘But you did take care of him, Joshua. Yesterday you got him to talk to Coach Diesel, who brought you guys to me.’ She poked him playfully. ‘You did that.’
Joshua sucked in a breath, his belly going round. ‘I did!’
‘Yes, you did. Now, I’m thinking Coach told you to wake me up because he made breakfast. Is that right?’
His eyes widened comically. ‘I forgot again! He made chocolate chip pancakes.’
Dani frowned. ‘I don’t have chocolate chips in the pantry.’
Joshua shrugged and turned to the door. ‘I know. His friends brought some over. They’re downstairs eating. You should come before they’re all gone.’ He started to race away, but she called him back in mild alarm.
‘Joshua? Which friends?’
‘Miss Merry and . . .’ He frowned a little. ‘That policeman from yesterday. Not the one with white hair. The other one. He says he’s your cousin,’ Joshua added suspiciously.
