“I don’t think we’ve met.” Crossing the room, I hold out my hand. I appreciate Dirk’s offer, but I still look out for Hana. “I’m Blake van Hamilton. Hana is my little sister.”
“Oh, sorry.” Dirk steps to the side. “Blake, this is Oscar Lourde. He’s our tracker, bounty hunter, go-to scary guy. Nobody’s getting past him.”
My eyes go from Dirk to the tall, muscled man covered in ink. His long hair is tied up in a samurai bun, and a messy beard covers his cheeks. He watches Hana with a lowered brow and wolf eyes… and something more I’m not sure I like.
“Is he mute?” I tilt my head to the side, trying to catch his attention.
Oscar turns his gaze on me, and it chills me to the bone. I want to believe Hutch wouldn’t work with anyone dangerous, but I don’t feel entirely safe around this guy.
“I can speak.” Scar’s voice is deep and raspy. “When there’s something to say.”
“Okay, then.” Chewing my lip, I glance at a smiling Dirk. “My sister’s a photographer. She’s also, a bit… How do I say it?”
“Special.” Scar’s heavy boots scuff on the floor. “I’ve got her.”
With that he leaves us alone in my uncle’s office. As soon as he’s out of sight, I turn wide eyes on the younger Winston brother. “He’s safe, right?”
Dirk presses his lips together, shaking his dark head. “No way, he’s a badass with some serious baggage. He’s scary as fuck, but he won’t hurt your sister.”
Exhaling heavily, I go to my uncle’s chair and drop into it. “What’s going on around here, Dirk?”
“I have no idea, but we’re going to find out. I’ll start with the names in this book. I’m pretty good at finding things on the dark web. If your uncle was mixed up in something shady, I’ll find it. There’s always a trail.”
“So you’re still a computer genius?”
Dirk was always handsome, not as tall and bulky as his brother, but lean and muscular. Smart and sexy–if that’s your type. Apparently my type is arrogant, bossy jarheads who slam you against the door and kiss your face off. I shift in my chair just thinking about it.
“Yep, and now I’m trying to use my skills for good.” Dirk winks, giving me that dimpled grin that makes all the girls swoon. “What’s new with you? Still modeling?”
“God, no, I only did that to pay the bills.” I stand and walk around my uncle’s office, looking up at the bookshelves. “I’m not tall enough, and I don’t have the right body type for modeling. I’m too curvy.” Looking over my shoulder, I wonder if I have another secret admirer. “I’m surprised you even knew I did that.”
“I wouldn’t have known, but I found my brother’s spank bank one afternoon looking for a computer manual.”
Heat rushes to my face, and I turn away before I blow my tough girl façade. “Whatever.”
“So what’s your story? It’s been a while since you visited Hamiltown. Catch me up.”
Dirk is only two years older than me, and when we were younger, we were friends. “Well, I finished at Columbia, got my degree in psychology.”
“What?” He pretends to be surprised. “Why psychology? I thought you’d go into fashion merchandising or something like that.”
“I don’t know. It interested me. I guess I thought it might help me understand people better.” My mind drifts to all the people I don’t understand in my life, from my mother to Hana to Debbie…
“Did it work?”
“Nope.” We share a light laugh. “What about you? You came back here to work with your brother, the asshole? I thought you’d follow your father to Wall Street. You always had the brains for it.”
“I’ve got the brains, but I also have a soul.” He shrugs. “I’m not into hookers and blow. Besides, Hutch isn’t so bad. He’s stubborn and hates admitting he could be wrong. But he will, and it’s interesting work.”
“Interesting?” It’s my turn to show disbelief. “What in the world ever happens in Hamiltown?”
“You’d be surprised. Last week we caught a guy flashing old ladies.”
“No!” I cry, placing my hand on my chest. “Not in wholesome Hamiltown!”
“Come to find out, he was autistic.” He makes a thoughtful face. “He still has to keep his pecker in his pants, though.”
Snorting a laugh, I shake my head. “Why aren’t the cops dealing with these things?”
“You know how it is. Everyone calls Hutch. He’s their guy. They get what they need, and nobody gets a record or goes to jail. He’s the original neighborhood cop.”
“But he’s not a cop.” I hold up a finger. “He’s a private investigator.”
“Try peddling that crap around here.” Dirk gives me a wink. “How’s your mom?”
“Same as always, doing her best to spend all her money. Shopping in Milan and Paris, skiing in St. Moritz. When she feels guilty, she works on the spring charity gala.”
“Reminds me of Pop. He only ever cared about his shit. Sometimes I wonder why he even had kids. Then I remember my mom.”
“Your dad should’ve hooked up with my mom.”
“Who’s to say he didn’t?”
I feel like we should open a bottle of rye and make an afternoon of reminiscing and comparing notes, but I remember the reason we’re here.
“So what are we going to do about Uncle Hugh?” I exhale softly, my chest heavy. “Where is he, Dirk? Do you think he's been hurt?”
“I don’t think so. My guess is he might be hiding out somewhere.”
“But he asked us to come home. Why would he do that if he was running away?”
He nods. “That’s where my theory falls flat. I don’t know, but I can tell you Hutch won’t sleep until he finds him. That man is like a father to him.”
I’m comforted by his words, and I believe they’re true.
“What’s happening here?” The low voice jump-starts my heart, and I turn quickly to see the devil himself standing in the doorway in loose jeans and a black tee stretched taut over his muscles.
Hutch looks different to me today, and when his green eyes rise slowly from my waist over my breasts to my eyes, it’s like a caress that stokes the fire smoldering in my belly.
“Got something for you.” Dirk hands over the book.
Hutch opens it and quickly scans the pages. His dark brow lowers, and he glances at me briefly before passing it back to his brother. “See if any of this corresponds to a direct investment company called RDIF Kazan.”
“RDIF Kazan.” Dirk nods and heads out the door, leaving me alone with the brute.
Crossing my arms, I study him. “Do you know what that’s about?”
“Last night, you told me Victor Petrova had embezzled from your father’s estate, and it finally started making sense. I think your uncle was watching this investment fund, following the money to see if it led back to Victor.”
My arms drop along with my jaw. “You think he was trying to recover what was stolen from us?”