“Sorry, you caught me off-guard.” I hold out my hand, and he takes it, stepping forward to kiss my cheek. “How are you doing? What are you doing in Hamiltown?’
“Coming to see you, of course.” He sets his Hartman luggage on the landing, and Norris moves it to the side. “New York is boring without you, without Debbie.”
“New York is a pain in the ass right now.” I haven’t seen Greg Peters in a month. He kisses my cheek as he surveys the entrance to my uncle’s home. “Thought we’d check out this family estate you’ve got. It’s better than I expected.”
“What did you expect?” I arch an eyebrow, doing my best to appear strong as always.
“Not this. Where’s the taxidermy?”
“Fresh out, but you can go pheasant hunting in the halls.” I quip.
“Do I smell coffee? I could use a cup if so.” Greg drops his Gucci duffle on the marble landing, and I wince at his casual treatment of Norris.
The older man doesn’t even seem to notice, lifting Trip’s heavy suitcase and Greg’s bag. “I’ll just take these to the bedrooms.”
My eyes cut from the bags to the butler, and I sigh. “They can stay in the east wing, Norris. I’ll move Hana’s and my things into the west bedrooms.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He dutifully takes the two bags.
“We’re not putting you out, are we, love?” Concern is not in Trip’s tone, and I remember why I didn’t feel like contacting him.
“Come with me.” I lead them past the living room, past Uncle Hugh’s study, to the kitchen. “I assume my sister told you we were here?”
Trip gives me an entitled smirk. “We keep up with each other.”
It’s not a straight answer, but Greg distracts me, scanning the walls and looking in my uncle’s study. The combination of his light hair and brown eyes so dark you can’t see his pupils gives him a sneaky look. I’ve never trusted Greg Peters, and his interest in my uncle’s estate makes me want to shut the door and lock it.
Unlike monochromatic Trip, who reminds me of a labradoodle with a drinking problem. I’ve often wondered if he takes anything seriously.
“I’m surprised you’ve never had the gang out here,” Trip complains. “Shame on you for hiding a mansion, stables… What else does this dump have? Hot tub?”
We’re in the kitchen, and I take down two additional mugs. “It’s my uncle’s full-time residence, so I don’t think descending on him en masse would be very polite.”
“Where is your uncle now?” Greg’s hands are in the pockets of his brown slacks, and he watches my expression.
I smile and lie through my teeth. “Uncle Hugh is visiting some friends for a few days.”
“Too bad, we’ll be gone before he returns,” Trip takes a flask from his inside jacket pocket and spikes his coffee with what looks like whiskey. “We came to retrieve you for the Belmont Gala. Your mother will stroke out if you and Hana aren’t there. Irish?”
He holds the flask of whiskey to me, and I shake my head. “No thanks.” I lift my mug, taking a sip of straight coffee. “I’m not going to the gala this year.”
“What the fuck? Why not?”
“I haven’t heard from Mama in weeks, and I don’t feel like a charity for a racetrack is where I should be with Debbie’s situation unresolved.”
“Where else would you be? Here?” Trip argues, but Greg remains silent, watching me. “We can’t mope around ad infinitum while we wait for the cops to tell us what we already know.”
“What do we know?” I snap, immediately hating that I’ve shown my emotions.
Now they know how much I care, which is always dangerous around fucking Greg Peters. Yeah, some friend group. Why do I want to go back to New York again?
Trip puts his arm around my shoulders. “Suicide’s a bitch. So much blame. So many unanswered questions. She didn’t even leave a note.”
“It doesn’t make sense.” My voice is quiet, and I blink back the sudden heat in my eyes.
Greg’s measured voice ends it. “Being together will help everyone get past what happened. Go with us to the gala.”
He’s completely void of emotion, which pisses me off, and I wouldn’t be caught dead at the fucking Belmont Gala with how I feel.
Still, there’s no point in arguing. “If you don’t want breakfast, Norris can show you to your rooms. Hana’s at the stables taking pictures. I’ll let her know we have company.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I lift it to see a text that closes my throat. You’re running out of time. $500K, six days. -P
“Everything okay?” Trip’s eyes are on me, and I quickly school my expression.
“Of course. So you’re staying one night? Two? I need to run to town to be sure we have enough supplies for all of us.”
“Shouldn’t your uncle have enough supplies if you’re staying with him?” Greg watches me, and I shift uncomfortably.
My discomfort skyrockets when the back door leading into the kitchen opens, and two big guys fill the room.
“What’s going on here?” Hutch towers over me with scary Scar right behind him.
He’s angry, and I silently pray he doesn’t say anything about my uncle’s house being off-limits to visitors.
Overprotective is a sexy look on Hutch. I want to be glad to see him after our night of passion, but the text on my phone is burning a hole in my hand and Greg Peters has me on edge.
“Greg, Trip, meet Hutch Winston and Oscar Lourde.”
“Interesting.” Trip’s eyes cut from me to Hutch and back again, and he crosses his arms like he knows something. “What exactly are you doing here, B?”
Greg doesn’t say a word, and a knot twists in my throat.
Hutch’s green eyes laser into mine, and I can barely breathe. “We need to talk. Now.”
10
Hutch
Sunlight shines bright through my windows, waking me.
I slide my hand across the cold sheets to find Blake is gone, and I’m fucking pissed. My hard-on only adds fuel to the fire. Then I see the clock.
“Mother fucker.” It’s after nine, and I should be in the office.
I can’t believe I overslept. Lurlene is my backup for getting Pepper to school, but I feel like a king-sized asshole for not being up to tell her goodbye. Last night was clearly mind-blowing in more ways than one if I forgot to set my alarm.
Moving fast, I’m showered, changed and heading out the door with a coffee in my hand in under twenty minutes.
Scar is at his desk when I enter the small space we use for an office. It’s pretty basic, glass double doors with Winston & Lourde hand-lettered across the center. Inside we each have a desk and a tower of filing cabinets at the back wall that holds the few paper documents we keep.
Dirk maintains the massive computer server and firewall that’s the brains of the office. Dirk would say he’s the brains of the office, and while he is our resident computer genius, he’s full of shit. We all bring different strengths to the group.
I’m more old-school. I have four years of military experience, a smartphone, and a gun. I can bench-press 400, and my word is my bond. I’m also the leader, having founded this firm five years ago.