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  For the first time, she saw the real man, the grasping, self-absorbed cheat who hid beneath a handsome face, a veneer of civility, and expensive suits. He wasn’t concerned about anyone except himself, and he most definitely didn’t care about her.

  “There are people all over the world who raise their children and don’t feel the need for a financial reward.”

  “After your mother—”

  “You mean after you drove her to commit suicide.” In a flash of insight, she questioned whether his lack of affection and empathy had broken her mother’s heart and caused her to go into a downward spiral of drugs and alcohol. Perhaps he wasn’t capable of love. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t a little girl, and she didn’t need him in her life, but she did want him to know the consequences of his actions. “Everything that has happened to me in the last two days is your fault.”

  “What? You being in Montana and getting—”

  “Do you know why I came here?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but carried on with her tirade. “To get funding so I could complete my work. I asked you to help, and you turned me down. You refused to give me what was rightfully mine. Marshall Portman heard about my solar panel because I sent emails to anyone who might be interested in keeping my project alive. I could’ve used the trust, or maybe the interest you stole.”

  He flashed a cold smile. “It was all there. You just didn’t read the documents I asked you to sign. You should always read before you sign.”

  And there it was, his admission of guilt. He had deceived his own daughter for personal gain. “You’re my father. I trusted you.”

  “You can’t trust anyone when it comes to business. Now, get your stuff, we’re leaving.”

  For as long as she could remember, she had wanted him to accept and love her, but he never had. Everyday of her sad, lonely life, she had worked hard and excelled, hoping that one day he would acknowledge her achievements. She realized now that it would never happen, not because she wasn’t worthy, but because he wasn’t capable of caring about anyone but himself.

  “Do you see that man lying in bed?” She pointed to David. “He’s worth ten of you. You’re fired as my lawyer, and any personal relationship we had is over. I’ll be getting legal and financial representation and will control my trust fund myself from now on.”

  “Good luck with that,” he scoffed. “I’ll have that money tied up in legal loopholes faster than you can blink. You have a history of unstable behavior. You accused your former professor, who was also your lover, of stealing your work.”

  Every muscle in her body tensed. She wanted to hurt him, to crumple his perfectly pressed suit, and pound his face into the dirt. “Try it. I just beat a man unconscious with an iron pipe. I’d be happy to do the same to you.”

  His mouth fell open. “Is that a threat?”

  She gave him her sweetest, fake smile. “Of course not, I’ve been through so much in the last few days. I’ve had a gun held to my head, I’ve been shot at, and the man I love was injured. It’s a lot to deal with. I’m sure any judge will understand I’m overwhelmed, and sometimes a woman simply needs to hit a bully.”

  Special Agent Callaghan stepped between them. He pressed a piece of paper into her hand. “Here’s the name of a good lawyer. I heard the whole thing and would be happy to testify on your behalf.” Then he glared at her father and pulled his credentials from his pocket. “I’m Special Agent Callaghan with the FBI. I suggest you leave—now. You can expect a visit from our agents in Seattle.”

  Patrick Wilson paled. “You-you can’t—”

  “I’m unable to comment on an ongoing investigation.” The agent placed a hand on her father’s shoulder, turning him toward the door. “Although, if you want, I can take you in for questioning now.”

  Patrick Wilson walked away without saying goodbye. Marie watched his retreating back. She would miss him from her life. He was, after all, her only relative. Her world would be even more isolated than it had been before…

  No, it wouldn’t. If David didn’t want her around—

  “Did I hear you say you love me?” David croaked, reaching for the button to raise his bed.

  “David?” She rushed to his side. “You’re awake.”

  “Of course, I’m awake. Who can sleep with all this noise?”

  She gave a shaky laugh. “You heard—”

  “He deserved it.” He placed his hand over hers.

  “Yes, he did.” She kissed his scar.

  “Don’t cry.” He brushed a droplet from her cheek.

  “Those damn tears. I never cry, honest.” She wasn’t sure if they were tears of joy because David was awake or if she was crying because her only living relative had admitted he didn’t love her.

  Sinclair patted her shoulder and passed her a box of tissues. Marie hadn’t noticed the others return, even though Agent Callaghan had intervened in the argument. Her fight with Patrick had consumed her. She couldn’t call him her father, not anymore. He didn’t fill that roll, never had. Agent Morris was right. You couldn’t pick your family…but you could pick your friends.

  “Back to my original question, you love me?” David’s voice was groggy and thick.

  She glanced around the room. Agent Callaghan and Tim stood by the door, smiling, and Sinclair sat on the other side of David’s bed. A little privacy would have been nice, but none of them looked like they had any intention of moving. In fact, they were all listening intently. It didn’t matter. She loved David and didn’t want to hide it. “Yes, I do. I love you very much.”

  “You’ll stay?” He gripped her hand, surprising her with his strength.

  “Yes.” She would stay as long as he wanted her.

  “Good, because it’s a pain in the ass when the woman you love isn’t around.”

  Her eyes leaked again. She bit her lip. She had to get her act together and get her emotions under control.

  “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy?” He sat up straighter, his face blanching with the effort.

  “I am. I’m crying because you love me, and I’m more than happy. I’m overjoyed, ecstatic, and thrilled.” She laughed, suddenly not caring about the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

  “Oh, damn.” He lay back, folding his arms across his chest.

  “What,” she sniffled.

  “I never know what you’re going to do next.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Marshall breathed a sigh of relief as his chartered jet took off from a private airfield in Elkhead County. His first stop would be the Cayman Islands where he would transfer his remaining funds into an account under his new identity. From there, he would make his way to Brunei.

  A blond flight attendant stood with her back to him, fussing with the coffee pot. She wore a miniskirt so short it revealed her stocking tops. As she talked to the pilots, she swayed her curvaceous bottom. He didn’t bother looking at her face. He wanted to enjoy the view. Besides, once he glimpsed the indifferent gaze women normally gave him, the fantasy would be over.

  The plane leveled as it reached cruising altitude. She turned and walked toward him, swaying her hips. He took in her long legs, the white, creamy flesh of her upper thigh that was visible with every step. His gaze traveled up. The top buttons of her blouse were undone, revealing her bust, which was full and generous.

  His penis twitched. He’d never been unfaithful to his wife. Not because he’d never been tempted, but because she was a scary bitch, and he knew he would never get away with it.

  The woman stood in front of him, legs slightly apart. She held her hands behind her back, which pushed her bust forward. He leant back, appreciating the view of her deep cleavage, unable to tear his eyes away from her magnificent breasts. Her luscious nipples poked through her shirt, begging for attention.

  She lunged, shoving him back, and straddled him. “Hello, darling.”

  He froze. It couldn’t be. He stared into Lucy’s cold, calculating eyes.

  “Did you forget something?
” Her breath warmed his ear, sending shivers of fear down his spine.

  “N-no, I would’ve met up with you eventually. I just didn’t want you involved. I was trying to protect you.”

  “I think you made a mess of things. There were those on the Syndicate who said you weren’t up for the job, and they were right.

  “The Syndicate? You told them?”

  “Of course, did you know Daddy was a founding member, and when he died his responsibilities were passed to me?”

  “But your father’s been dead for ten years. Ouch.” He glanced down in time to see her empty a syringe into his arm. He pushed her off and then stood as he yanked out the needle. His knees buckled, and he landed in a heap in the aisle.

  “That’s a little poison. It’s succinylcholine, or SUX for short. The good news is that it doesn’t take too long to kill you. Your muscles become paralyzed so you can’t move. Once it reaches your respiratory system, you’ll suffocate and die. The bad news is that you’ll be conscious until the end.”

  He tried to move his arms, but they refused to work. He yelled, but no sound came from his throat. He thought she might have kissed his cheek, but he couldn’t feel her touch.

  “It’s a good poison. I used it on Daddy because it’s virtually undetectable. Everyone thought he’d died of a heart attack. They’ll probably assume the same about you.”

  She undid her blouse, letting it fall to the floor near his head. “You know you could’ve avoided all this if only you planned to take me with you. I would’ve protected you from the Syndicate. After all, being stupid is forgivable, being disloyal is not.”

  He willed his arms and legs to move, but they wouldn’t cooperate.

  “I’m going to fuck each of these pilots while you watch. Of course, you’ll be done before I am.” Her skirt slipped to the floor, and then her underwear.

  He tried to breathe, but his lungs wouldn’t expand. Lucy dragged one of the pilots from the cockpit and guided him to the center of the cabin. She unzipped his pants and let them drop to the floor. Marshall tried not to look but he couldn’t close his eyes. Lucy straddled the pilot after he lay on the floor. Marshall didn’t want to watch, didn’t want to hear her screams of pleasure as she rode the man in uniform. He tried to cover his ears with his hands, but his arms wouldn’t move. Nothing worked. All he could hear was his own shrieking in his head as the world dimmed and blinked out.

  Chapter Forty

  David hobbled on crutches down the hospital corridor. It’d been a week since his surgery. His leg ached like a bastard, and the crutches chafed his armpits, making every movement a lesson in pain. He’d refused the pain meds because they made his mind fuzzy. It was one thing to be immobile, quite another to be a babbling idiot. He hated the inactivity of being injured. He’d walk, or rather hobble, to Michael’s room every day, but after an hour’s excursion, he would collapse exhausted into bed and sleep for hours.

  “I’m going to hit them on the nose with an iron pipe when I get my hands on them.” Marie sauntered beside him, not the least put out by their slow pace.

  Despite his own discomfort, he laughed. She had taken the news that her home had burned down pretty well.

  “It’s not the research. I have that compiled on a memory stick in my bag.” The backpack she’d taken to Big Sky News had been returned to her, including the solar panel. She hadn’t looked at it. In fact, the only time she seemed sad was when someone mentioned her prototype. “It’s not even the furniture or any of the other stuff.”

  “What’s got you in a snit?” He leant against the door jam, taking a breather.

  “I had photos of my mother.” There was a distant, empty look in her eyes.

  He understood. If he had a picture of his parents, he would cherish it, too. “Sorry.” As gestures went, it was inadequate, but what could he say? He’d never been good with words.

  She straightened, forcing herself to brighten. “You’re here.” She waved her hand toward the hospital room. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

  He watched her walk away. Despite his condition, her heart-shaped behind still did a number on him. She wore a pair of jeans, a soft cotton shirt that clung to her breasts, and a bra. He tried to persuade her she didn’t need the undergarment, but she’d just laughed.

  “You got it bad.” Michael sat in a chair next to his bed. His face was paler than usual and a fine mist of perspiration covered his forehead. They were small signs, but ones David instantly recognized as pain.

  “They got you out of bed today. I’ll bet that hurt.”

  “Yeah, like a bitch, but I can’t lie on my back forever.”

  “Have they given you a timeline for your recovery?” David hobbled to the bed and sat, shifting the weight off his injured leg.

  “My bones should knit within three months. After that I’ll have to do some major physio. Complete recovery should take six to nine months.”

  “Tim told me that your bosses at the CID questioned you yesterday, and you’ve been fired.”

  Michael shrugged. “I was ready to move on. There’s only so much undercover work a man can do before he craves the light.” Despite his words, there was a tension in him that hadn’t been there the day before. David suspected it had nothing to do with the pain of sitting on a broken pelvis.

  “I understand the two of you have plans,” Michael said, changing the subject.

  “She wants to build a house on my land with running water and a bathroom. I’m good with that.” David allowed himself to be sidetracked.

  “What about the future?

  “There’s a lot of stuff to be sorted. Her dad’s trying to gain control of her trust—”

  “And the solar panel?”

  “I want to develop it, but she’s hesitant. There’s been a lot of interest after what happened at Big Sky News.”

  “Is she scared another Portman will come out of the woodwork?”

  David nodded.

  “She’s not wrong to be scared. Portman wasn’t the brains behind the operation.”

  “He wasn’t?”

  “No, there were hints in some of the documents I uncovered.”

  “Hints to what?”

  “A group called The Syndicate. Who they are and what they do, I couldn’t find out, but I know they were the ones pulling Portman’s strings. He even mentioned them. By the way, did you hear about Marshall?”

  “Yeah, heart attack.” David wasn’t sure how he felt about the death of his mentor. Marshall had been instrumental in making him the man he was today. There were moments when he was grateful they had met. Then, at other times, he wished he’d been left on the streets.

  “You going to marry her?” Michael said, lightening the mood.

  “I would marry her in a heartbeat, but…”

  “But what?”

  “She’s worth eighty million dollars.”

  “Oh, boohoo. The woman I love is too rich.” Michael said, in a mocking imitation of a crying child.

  David laughed and then said. “You’re right. I need to get a grip.”

  “Do you love her?”

  David pictured Marie, refusing to leave him in the barn, and then the next day in the parking garage creeping up on Pretty Boy. He’d never been so scared in his life. He didn’t know how he would cope if he lost her. “Yeah, I love her.”

  “Then go for it. You can always sign a prenup.” Michael had cut through the irrelevant details to the heart of the matter.

  David smiled and changed the subject. “I owe you a debt. I would never have asked you to put yourself in the line of fire the way you did. You took a big risk working for Portman at PDE. I’ll never be able to repay you.”

  Michael shrugged, dismissing David’s gratitude.

  “Why’d you do it?” The question had been burning a hole in David’s mind. His friend had risked his career, and his life. He’d been injured and was now in constant pain. The way David saw it, Michael had paid a high price so that they could live.

 
He swallowed. “I had to. I’m responsible.”

  “How can you—”

  He gazed at the floor. “I’m the one who put the three of you in Marshall House.”

  “You weren’t even there. You’d already returned home.”

  “I went home so I could find a way out for you.” Michael’s brow furrowed. He still didn’t make eye contact.

  “I don’t understand.” David had always believed that joining Marshall House had been pure, dumb luck.

  “Once I had access to a computer, I did some research on the best way to get you off the street. I decided Marshall House was a good fit and contacted Portman. I told him about you, how you and Sin were good at languages, and how Tim helped little old ladies. I told him you avoided the homeless shelters and persuaded him to find you.”

  “Why?” This was shocking, but at the same time it made sense. The things Portman had known about them, David had assumed Marshall’s charisma was instinct and he was good with kids.

  “Sinclair couldn’t survive on the streets much longer. She was done. She’d lost hope—”

  “And she would never have left without us.” David remembered his sister at sixteen. She was gaunt, despondent, and had given up on life. For a while he was scared he’d lose her.

  “No, she wouldn’t.” Michael shifted, trying to get comfortable. He had got them off the streets to save his sister, and whether he admitted it or not, he had probably gone undercover at PDE for the same reason. As a teenager, Michael had been infatuated with Sinclair, and those feelings had grown into something deeper over the years.

  “You should tell her,” David said baldly.

  “Tell her what?

  “That you love her.”

  “I don’t know what—”

  “Don’t deny it. You’ve loved Sinclair since you were fifteen years old. It’s time you faced up to that.”

  “Easier said than done.”

  “Yeah, but you deserve to know if she feels the same way about you.” David had never concerned himself with his sister’s love life. It was none of his business, but Sinclair had never had a serious boyfriend, and now he had to wonder if it had something to do with Michael. Whatever happened between Michael and Sinclair, Michael was his friend, and he deserved to be happy.