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  She sighed, and the deep intake of breath made her round tits push against the cotton T-shirt. She pivoted so that she rested her butt against the table. It took every last bit of his self-control to not to let his gaze dip from his screen to the miles of her strong legs on display. But even without looking, he could still recall the feel of her inner thighs brushing against his cheeks while she wriggled and moaned above him.

  “He grew up in Harbor City,” she said, bringing him back from the brink. “He’s been a butler for the past ten years.”

  Not a common career choice. “Family business?”

  “No. He’s with a service.”

  Okay, now they were getting somewhere. Fergus had come up clean, but the service could be a different story. Diamond Tommy had a slew of legitimate businesses to help hide his other funding sources. “Do you remember the name?”

  She closed her eyes and clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Grayson Domestics Incorporated.”

  “Sounds expensive.”

  She snorted. “It probably is.”

  And snooty. Who in the hell said domestics?

  He brought up Grayson’s website and scrolled through. “It looks legit from this end, but we need to get a peek at the stuff we can’t see.” He picked up the burner phone and dialed.

  Carlos answered on the first ring. “Dude. I thought Tony was on the warpath about how this case is going, then I had a chat with Sylvie.”

  He’d seen his boss at Maltese Security lose his temper only once—when Ryder had taken off for The Andol Republic on a case without clearing it with Tony first. She’d almost gotten killed before taking down the bad guy and bringing home a fiancé. Tony’s explosion had to have hit twenty on the Richter scale. If Sylvie was worse than that, Cam was glad to be in hiding.

  “Not good?”

  “Depends. How attached are you to your motorcycle? She’s threatened to run it over…while you’re still on it.”

  She had to be joking. Mostly. But he’d seen Sylvie with Drea. Those two were as loyal to each other as a quarterback and a killer offensive line. “Yeah, this case hasn’t taken the usual path. Any luck on the safe house?”

  “Fifteen Parsnip Lane in Waterburg. It’s fully equipped. Go in through the garage keypad. The code is nine—six—three—one. When you get there, Tony wants an update STAT.”

  Cam just bet he did. He pushed away from the table and stood. Antsy energy rolled through him in waves. He needed to pace. He knew the feeling well. It was the same edgy rush that had pushed him onto black helicopters and unregistered flights from one end of South America to another—the knowledge that he was about to take care of business. His gut didn’t lie, they had something with Fergus.

  “Thanks ‘Los, but I need another favor.”

  “Shocker.”

  He crossed to the window and peeked out. The silent parking lot was filled with older model cars that had more dents and less tire tread than you’d find in the parking garages across the bridge in Harbor City. Nothing and no one moved outside. The stillness did nothing to lessen the amped up buzz running through him. “Can you bring up Grayson Domestics Incorporated? I need to know owners, stock holders if they’ve got them, board of directors. Also, let me know what their money situation is like.”

  “Need it right away?” Carlos asked.

  “I needed it yesterday.”

  “Isn’t that always the case?”

  Cam hung up and tossed the phone onto the bed, still rumpled from last night’s activities.

  Drea stood on the opposite side of the bed. She stripped off his shirt, which effectively short circuited his brain. “Good news?” She grabbed her silver bra and slid it on, then put on her dress.

  “Hopefully.” He grabbed his T-shirt from where she’d dropped it on the bed and tugged it over his head. He inhaled…and his heartbeat went into overdrive. She’d worn it what, five minutes? And already it carried her tempting scent as if she’d slept in it all night. “What else do you know about Fergus?”

  “He seemed like a good guy. Obviously that’s wrong, because he’s a shithead.” She crumpled up the silver panties he’d ripped last night and tossed them at him.

  He dodged the satin ball. “Does he have family?”

  “Not to my knowledge.” She tugged the dress into place and fastened the button at the top of its scoop neck with a decisive snap.

  It was a tossup which he hated more. That button…or himself for wanting to pop it back open. “Anything you can think of that would tie Fergus to Diamond Tommy?”

  She shook her head.

  Both were fully dressed now. They stood on opposite sides of the bed. An awkward silence fell as she did some girly twisty thing with her hair, and he watched like a starving man locked out of the kitchen—hungry, empty-handed, and his belly burning with want.

  His phone buzzed on the bed, doing a little vibrating dance in the twisted sheets. He leaned over the bed to grab the phone. The smell of sex mixed with Drea’s scent from his shirt, and his eyes nearly crossed. Fuck. He had to get away from her before he forgot that he had simply been the wrong man at the right time for her.

  The text message notification flashed on his screen.

  CARLOS: ON THE SYSTEM.

  He hurried to his laptop, logged into the Maltese Security website, and clicked on the folder labeled Grayson. In it, he found the names of every board of director member, management, and major stockholder. None of the names rang any bells. Shit. They really needed something in their win column.

  Drea peeked over his shoulder at the screen. “That was fast.”

  “‘Los isn’t known for dicking around.” But even for Carlos, this was speedy. Ever since he’d decided he wanted to move from behind the desk out into the field, the computer guru had busted his ass to prove himself to Tony.

  He scrolled down, got to the end of the scanned document stamped with the Harbor City tax office. That’s when he saw it. Paulsen and Paulsen were listed as the company attorneys. “Gotcha now, asshole.”

  “What is it?”

  He tapped the screen. “Paulsen and Paulsen is the law firm that handles Diamond Tommy’s legitimate businesses—all of the clean stuff that helps him launder his shady money.”

  “Could it be a coincidence?”

  “It’d have to be a pretty big coincidence.”

  “And you don’t believe in coincidences.” She quirked an eyebrow at him.

  “Nope.”

  The bed dipped underneath her as she sat down on the edge. Her shoulders slumped. It killed him to see her like that. “So what now?” she asked.

  Fergus was the key to all of this—not to mention in all likelihood a murderer. If he hadn’t offed Natasha Orton himself, he’d had a hand in it. They had to get him to talk to the cops. Of course, that would mean implicating himself, and Cam doubted the shithead would be all that honorable after what he’d done. Looked like it was time for a little creative motivation.

  “We find Fergus and hit him with everything we’ve got.” That wasn’t a lot, but it would be enough. He’d make sure of it.

  “Do you really think he’ll talk?” She mauled he bottom lip with her teeth.

  “If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll talk.” He rubbed the back of his head. “But that’s not what’s sticking out to me.”

  She perked up. “What is?”

  “Why Grayson Domestic?” He got up and paced from the table to the deadbolted steel door and back again before sitting down. “Even with his legitimate businesses, he expects a better return than average. The profit margin on a straight business can’t be at the level he expects.”

  The threads connecting Fergus to Diamond Tommy to Natasha Orton to Drea hung loose in front of him, as tangible as the plastic chair under his ass. His intuition told him all of the threads were connected, but he couldn’t quite see how. Not yet.

  The commonality was Grayson Domestic, but he couldn’t get to the why. And the why mattered. A target’s motivation alwa
ys highlighted their soft spot, where a swift shot would hit hardest.

  An excited gleam lit Drea’s eyes. She stood and cracked her knuckles like a woman about to get into the ring and kick major ass. “So he has to find the extra money somewhere else within the business, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  They paced in opposite directions, then came together in the middle of the room and turned sideways so they could squeeze through the narrow space between the bed and the table.

  “Moving drugs?” she asked.

  He rolled the idea around in his head. It didn’t gel. “No, they aren’t going overseas or traveling much.”

  More pacing.

  “Undocumented labor?” he wondered out loud.

  “Possible, but that’s low grossing.” She shook her head. “We need to think about the business’s assets. What assets could he exploit?”

  A business like Grayson didn’t have big capital expenses, equipment, or office space. The owners ran it out of a rented office in a high rise. “Really, it’s just the people.”

  “He could charge a premium for extraordinary services, or…” Her step faltered, and she stumbled to a stop.

  Their eyes met. Certainty punched him straight in the guts. “For the servants’ silence.”

  She smiled and nodded. “After all, who knows everything about what’s going on upstairs than those who work below stairs?”

  Fuck. If that was true, Diamond Tommy was using Grayson to facilitate blackmailing Harbor City’s elite, people who had more than enough money and motive to want to keep their dirt swept neatly under the rug.

  “Okay, let’s walk through it.” He paced toward the door with enough energy bouncing through him to make it feel like he was walking across a trampoline. “Diamond Tommy gets his fingers into Grayson and gets the employees to feed him inside dirt on the big wigs they’re working for. But why kill Mrs. Orton?”

  She said, “Maybe Natasha was ready to go public with her husband’s cheating.”

  That would do it. If Mr. Orton was paying hush money about his affair, then he wouldn’t have reason to keep shelling out cash if his secret became public knowledge.

  “Tommy doesn’t like it when somebody turns off the money spout.”

  She stopped, her feet shoulder width apart and her hands planted firmly on her hips, ready to take out whoever pissed her off next. “But why frame me?”

  That was the question beating against Cam’s thick skull. For days, they’d been looking at the whole thing like a grand conspiracy, but what if it wasn’t? What if it was just wrong person, right time?

  “If I was Tommy, I’d want to throw suspicion as far away from my people as possible.” As the words came out of his mouth, Cam’s certainty increased. “If the police questioned Fergus too closely, he could tell the cops everything and blow the whole blackmail scheme sky high. Instead of losing money from one family, Diamond Tommy could lose it from all of them. So he frames you, throws all of the attention your direction to keep the cops as far away from Fergus as possible.”

  “Now all we have to do is prove it.” With her shoulders thrown back and her chin tipped upward, she looked hot as hell and more than up for the challenge.

  “Piece of cake.” He winked.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Beauty is not generic. Quite often, the thing that makes you memorable is the thing that makes you different.” - Laura Mercier

  Drea tightened her grip around Cam’s waist and melded herself to his back as they rocketed across the bridge into Harbor City. He zipped through traffic and wove his motorcycle through the slow moving cars. Drivers honked their horns, and more than a few flipped them the bird. He whipped around a delivery truck so quick she should have had a heart attack. A few days ago, she would have. Now? Just a tiny jump in her pulse.

  “Only a couple of blocks to go.” Cam’s voice came through clear on the helmet speaker. “You hanging in there?”

  The motorcycle dipped low on its side as he took a left turn onto Forrest Avenue.

  She clenched her thighs around his legs and closed her eyes. “Without a doubt.”

  “I always liked that about you.” He chuckled and straightened the bike, rushed past the brownstones lining Fergus’s street. “Whatever happens, you handle it like a boss.”

  “Oh yeah, I’m a bad ass bitch.” Her eye roll was instinctual—a knee-jerk reaction to any compliment. But it was true. Breaking down in tears had never been her style. It fucked with her makeup, and that was something she didn’t tolerate.

  “Remember that when we confront Fergus.”

  “Is that your way of reminding me not to rip his throat out as soon as I see him?” Not that she’d do that, but a well-placed knee to the balls was in order.

  “Exactly. We need to get him to admit culpability and confess to the cops.” He pulled to a stop a block down from Fergus’s building and parked next to the side entrance for Central Square Park.

  She unwound herself from him, put one foot on solid ground, and swung her other leg over the seat. She planted her feet firm on the asphalt and removed the borrowed black helmet. “And if he won’t?”

  He stowed their helmets, and they stared down the block at the brownstone where they’d meet their fate. “Follow my lead and we won’t have to worry about that.”

  Adrenaline pumped through her veins and left her shaky even on solid ground. Everything was on the line. Running wasn’t an option. The cops weren’t likely to give up, and Diamond Tommy never would.

  If this went south, she was headed for a lifetime of orange…if she was lucky. She was a makeup artist, not a former military operator. As much as she hated admitting it, this wasn’t her scene, and she wasn’t sure she could do it. The reality crashed down on her like a rock slide.

  “Cam…”

  He gripped her shoulders and spun her around to face him. His lips were on hers before she could even catch her breath. It wasn’t so much a kiss as it was a transfer of confidence. When he broke it off a moment later, her knees were weak and her brain fuzzy, but the distraction proved to be enough to yank her back from that dark place. At least for now.

  “It’ll work out.” His thumb traced her bottom lip. “I promise.”

  She wanted nothing more than to believe him.

  “You make a lot of promises,” she said.

  “I’m good for them.” He grabbed her hand, and they took off toward Fergus’s building. “Let’s go make that man speak the truth.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.” She was so sick of all the lies. She’d lived through more than enough of them for a lifetime.

  It only took a few minutes to travel the two blocks to Fergus’s building. One elevator ride later and they were outside Fergus’s front door. He opened before they even had a chance to knock, his phone in his hand and a guarded expression on face.

  It took everything she had not to slap it right off of him.

  “I take it our time with you is limited,” Cam said.

  Fergus glanced down at the phone, and a smarmy little grin curled up one side of his mouth. “Most definitely.”

  The little fucker thought he was safe. Thought he’d won. Something snapped inside Drea. She wanted answers, and the asshole before her was the only one who had them.

  “It was you, wasn’t it?” She put every bit of anger and frustration into her words as she shoved her way past the butler and into his lavish apartment. “Why did you kill her?”

  Fergus retreated under her attack until the back of his legs hit the couch. He seemed less certain now that she’d invaded his space. “I didn’t have a choice—Diamond Tommy made sure of it.”

  “Tell us about the blackmail scheme.” Cam stood in the open doorway, his feet planted shoulder width apart and his arms crossed. Malice radiated from him in waves, and animosity seemed to enlarge his already formidable form.

  Fergus blanched, and his bravado folded in on itself like origami made of cowardice. “Do you know what s
he was going to do?”

  “Who, Natasha?” Drea asked as she stalked toward him.

  Fergus flinched and shrank in size like a prey animal attempting to avoid detection.

  But it was too late. She was going to enjoy trussing him up and handing him over to the cops.

  “Spill it.” She jammed her finger hard into his chest. “Now.”

  “She was going to ruin everything. No one ever wanted to admit that someone had discovered their dirty little secrets—except, of course, for Mrs. Orton. She took a slash and burn policy to all of Mr. Orton’s secrets—his latest mistress had only recently turned eighteen. A man of his stature was willing to pay just about any amount of money necessary to keep a statutory rape charge at bay. However, Mrs. Orton was going to put every little thing out there for the world to see. That would leave Mr. Orton very little reason to keep paying hush money to Diamond Tommy. Even less reason for my continued employment.”

  “With either of your employers,” Cam said.

  “Exactly.” Fergus twitched. Sweat beaded along his receding hairline, and damp spots appeared under his armpits. “Because once Mr. Orton stopped paying Diamond Tommy, it would only be a matter of time until others found out. They’d all stop paying. It would all be because of Mrs. Orton, but Diamond Tommy would blame me.”

  “And you couldn’t let that happen,” Cam said.

  Fergus nodded as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and then wiped his forehead with the white square. “Not if I wanted to keep breathing. Then Mr. Orton’s fish tank broke, spilling fish everywhere, including that puffer fish with its poisonous liver just there for the taking. Suddenly, I saw a way out.”

  “So you killed Natasha to send a message to the other people being blackmailed.” The ice in Cam’s voice sent a shiver down Drea’s spine. “And you cleared all this with Tommy?”

  “As long as the murder couldn’t be traced back to me and then him, he didn’t care what happened.”

  “You’re going to care a whole hell of a lot now.” Cam grabbed Fergus by the collar.