Scar looks up from his laptop, and his wolf eyes narrow. “You seem very relaxed today.” He leans back, in his chair, giving me a rare grin. “Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you more relaxed. Does this have something to do with your tardiness?”
“Fuck off.” I can’t believe that asshole is hassling me for being late for the first time in… ever. “Did anything happen overnight?”
Other than my world shifting.
In addition to Dirk’s work on that ledger, I’ve asked the local sheriff’s department to update us on cars coming in and out of Hamiltown the night Hugh went missing.
“Actually, I’ve got something you’ll want to see.” He rises to his full six-foot-four height, two inches taller than me, and I frown.
“Something off the tip line?”
“Nope.” He pulls out a linen envelope. “Slid under the door.”
My stomach drops. I’d recognize that stationary anywhere. Snatching it out of his hand, I breathe through the tightness in my chest. I should probably consider what it means that I care more about Hugh van Hamilton than my own damn dad.
Opening it, I see brown ink on cream paper, and in Hugh’s unmistakably precise handwriting:
You’re on the right track.
Keep going,
Hugh
“What the fuck?” I look up at my partner.
“Turn it over.”
I do as he says, and I read in small script at the bottom corner, Tell Norris I have my pills.
My eyes narrow, and I don’t know if I’m unreasonably furious or completely disbelieving. “Did you check it out?”
“I was waiting for you.”
“Let’s go.”
We hustle out to my truck, and I drive us the short distance to Hugh’s house. A white Mercedes I don't recognize is parked in the circular drive; otherwise it looks the same as always.
Exiting the vehicle, I motion to Scar. “No need to disturb Norris. I have a key to the back door.”
He lifts his chin, and we walk around to the kitchen entrance. I stop in my tracks, surprised and annoyed at the sight that greets me. Blake is inside serving coffee to two well-dressed assholes I vaguely recognize from her New York crowd.
Her eyes widen when she sees me, and I quickly take in her appearance.
She’s fucking hot in shredded jeans that hug her curves and a thin, gray sweater. It has a deep V-neck revealing a lacy black camisole, and my fucking dick responds to the sight. A lock of long, dark hair hangs over her full breast, and I want to slide my hands over it. Hell, I want my hands all over her sexy body.
Opening the glass door, I level my eyes on hers. Her smile is cautious, and the tightness in my chest increases.
“What’s going on here?” I almost say Who the fuck are these assholes, but I figure that might escalate things too fast.
“Hutch,” she quickly introduces all of us, and I file the names away.
I’ll deal with these unexpected guests later. At present, my entire focus is on Blake and letting her know about Hugh. “We need to talk. Now.”
The brown-haired guy makes a quip, but I’m not listening. Last night changed my feelings for her. She’s more than a pampered Upper East Side party girl. Blake is deeper, she has a heart, and I want to save her from that old world–if she’ll let me.
“Okay.” Her voice is quiet, and she follows me out of the kitchen and down the short hallway to the formal dining room.
“Can we see your uncle’s bathroom?”
“That’s an odd request.” Her nose wrinkles, and she looks around the house. “I have no idea…”
Shit, I feel like a jerk. Of course she doesn’t know where it is. It’s only the third time in her life I remember her visiting this place.
I catch her hand, stopping her movement. “Where’s Norris?”
Her hand moves in mine, turning so our palms slide together, and it feels good–before she quickly pulls it away. “I asked him to set up the guys in the east wing of the house. He’s probably still there.”
We’ll discuss that bit of information in a minute. “Take me to him.”
Norris leads us to the master suite, and I rush ahead to the bathroom, taking out Hugh’s pill bottles from the cabinet and quickly scanning the dates and the quantities in each one.
Pouring the contents into my hand, I do some quick math and glance up at Scar. “Fourteen days.”
He nods, and we turn to Blake, who’s frowning as she watches us. Her eyes flit from me to Scar. Norris is beside her just as confused.
“What’s going on?” she asks, and I move closer.
“A note was left at the office. It’s pretty brief, but it seems your uncle is okay. He’s alive, and hell, I don’t even think he was kidnapped.”
I hand her the paper, and her eyes widen. She scans it quickly before looking up at me again. “You think it’s really him?”
“It’s his handwriting.” I gently turn the page to the back. “And there’s this.”
She reads the postscript aloud. “Tell Norris I have my pills.”
“Oh, thank heavens.” We all three look at the old butler, and I realize Norris is the one most in danger of fainting. Luckily Scar is right beside him if he goes down.
The old fellow presses his palm to his chest. “I’m so relieved. He has his pills.”
Blake returns to me. “I don’t understand–so he planned to be gone for fourteen days?”
“Or he took what he figured he needed and left the bottle behind.”
“Why would he do that?”
Exhaling slowly, I give the only answer that fits. “So nothing would appear disturbed.”
“You mean… He knew someone would come looking for him?” Fear is in her eyes, and I want to pull her to me.
I want to take her in my arms and tell her I’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt her. But we have an audience, so I keep it professional.
“It’s hard to know what he was thinking, but at least we can breathe easier knowing he’s alive and well.”
And somehow he knows everything we’re doing. I glance around the house, wondering where he planted the cameras. My gut says his office.
“Where’s Hana?” Scar’s voice is sharp, and Blake jumps.
“I think she’s at the barn taking photos. She said something about the dawn… I don’t know, but it’s been a while.”
He leaves us without a word, and Norris does a little bow. “I’m so relieved, Mr. Winston. Thank you for this. I’ll just finish preparing the gentlemen’s quarters. It’ll be ready for them in the next few minutes, and Miss Blake, I’ll be sure the west wing rooms are stocked.”
“Thank you, Norris.” She sees him out, and when the door closes, she rests her forehead on it. “He’s right, I guess. This is good news.”
Stepping forward, I do what I’ve been wanting to do all morning. I catch her waist and pull her to me. She turns in my arms and places her cheek to my chest. Tilting my head, I inhale the soft scent of rose in her hair.
My voice is quiet, and I slide my palm gently up and down her back. “I don’t know what the hell he’s doing, but it seems your uncle has a plan.”