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“Are you sure?”
“He snores like a motherfucker, that’s how sure I am. I have him wired. That’s how fast and good I am.”
“Do you have me wired?”
“I was politely—because I’m a polite motherfucker myself—waiting for permission. But for the record, your wiring is a fuck show. I looked at it to see what it was going to take.”
“Fuck.”
“Easy, man. I have a tech genius flying in this morning. He’ll have it up and running in no time. And I’ll have the manpower to watch everything at once. In the meantime—”
“In the meantime, someone left an envelope for Emma at my door. It has to be Brody.”
“Brody’s in bed,” he says. “I told you. He’s all but sucking his damn thumb. He didn’t leave that envelope. I had his phone tapped from the minute he left the castle. The window that he could have called someone else to leave something for Emma is almost zero.”
“No one else would know Emma to leave her something.”
“But they know her family. How many people work here at the property?”
“Twenty in various shifts.” I eye the stairs and decide to stay put in case Emma is now awake.
“How many have been here long enough to know your father?”
“Most of them. My father bred loyalty.”
“Then there are people who know perhaps more than you do about what went on between her family and yours. But I didn’t ask the obvious. Did she open it?”
“She’s in bed.”
“Did you open it?”
“No.”
“But you want to.”
“Of course I fucking want to.”
“But you’re not going to.”
“No. I can’t do that.”
“I can. Put it back on the doorstep. I found it, not you. I’ll be right there.”
My lashes lower, and I draw in a deep breath. “We have enough lies between families,” I say. “I’m not going to lie to Emma.”
“She can’t open that until I confirm it’s safe. It shouldn’t be in your house right now. Is it?”
“I’m in the foyer off my garage. I haven’t taken it upstairs.” There’s a knock on the door.
“That’s me, asshole. Open up.”
I disconnect and open the door to find Savage standing there, still in the jeans and Walker T-shirt I remember him wearing last night, his jaw heavily stubbled, his eyes bloodshot. “Asshole?” I challenge.
“I stayed up all night trying to keep you safe, and you just risked your life,” he snaps, “so, yes, asshole.” He reaches in the bag at his hip and pulls out a plastic bag he holds open. “Stick it in there. It needs to be tested for toxins and prints.”
“It doesn’t have toxins.”
“And your brother wasn’t murdered?”
