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But she’d finally dozed off, if the subtle snoring was any indication. Braden threw one more look her way as he gently closed the door behind him. The logs were keeping the room plenty warm, because this hallway was flat-out chilly. The temperature must have really dropped outside for the inside to get so cold, so fast. At least he’d put his shirt and socks back on, so that was a minor help.
With his phone in his pocket, Braden flicked on the small flashlight that had been on Zara’s bedside table. He swung it back and forth down the hallway, finally deciding to venture into the rooms toward the end where he’d never been before.
He’d seen the layout of the home several times. The floor plan was ingrained into his mind, the blueprints locked away in his home office, but seeing the rooms firsthand was entirely different. He knew there was a third floor, but right now he was going to focus on the bedrooms that sat empty. Every inch of this home could be a hiding spot, and Braden had to start somewhere. Sticking close to Zara was the smartest move right now.
There was something eerie about an old house that was pitch-black with the sounds of whirling winds and creaking. But fear never entered Braden’s mind. Nothing scared him, except the prospect of not finding these scrolls. His father had wanted them back in the family’s possession, but once Patrick had passed away six months ago, Braden knew this endeavor now fell to him. That, and strategically severing the ties to an underbelly of the city he wanted nothing to do with.
Nearly a decade ago, his father had supposedly ordered a prominent businessman to be taken out, along with the man’s assistant. That dangerous rumor kept filtering around, but if Braden could pull this family around, point them in the right direction, perhaps such whispered speculations would be put to rest.
Everything would take time. This was a business Braden learned to be patient in. Effective, forceful and controlling, but patient.
He’d never ordered any killings, prayed to God he never had to. Transitioning was difficult, but Braden had to. He had to secure a future for the family he eventually wanted, but at the same time fulfill his father’s dying wishes.
As he entered the last bedroom, he stood in the doorway and moved his light around, familiarizing himself with the furniture layout. More built-in bookcases. Nice charm to add to each room, but a pain in the ass for someone on a scavenger hunt.
Ryker had mentioned searching the obvious places, but Braden was here now and wanted to see everything for himself firsthand.
Braden slid the flashlight beneath his arm so he could use both hands to shift books and knickknacks around on the shelves. So far no hidden door, no secret hole hidden behind a panel. Nothing. But he wasn’t discouraged. Getting into this house was one of the biggest hurdles, and here he was. Now he just needed to be patient, because the scrolls were here. They had to be.
The irony that his family unofficially dealt in retrieving stolen relics and heirlooms, and they couldn’t even get back their own possessions, was not lost on him. Granted, they technically stole back the items, but those words would never come out of his mouth, and Ryker was the guy who did all the dirty work. So in a sense, Braden never saw how the items were taken back. So long as it was done correctly and satisfied clients all over the globe, the details didn’t matter. The auction house gave them the front they needed to play modern-day Robin Hood, but the rumors around the family gave them that edge that helped them with their tough, hard-ass image.
Generations of corruption would be hard to move past, but Braden was determined. The art dealings would continue, and there was no harm in taking back what was rightfully due to those who had lost heirlooms, as long as it didn’t require any violence. But any more than lying and stealing had to cease...sooner rather than later.
Ryker wasn’t too keen on Braden’s new, somewhat lily-white direction, but Braden wasn’t asking for permission. He was in charge now, and Ryker would have to understand that any sort of bloodshed was a thing of the past.
Which reminded him, he needed to check in with their right-hand man who was currently in London looking for a rare piece of art that needed to be returned to a client in Paris during the next auction.
By the time he’d finished the two large bedrooms at the end of the hall, Braden was no closer than when he’d started. Sleep was going to have to happen because his eyes were burning, and most likely it was nearly morning at this point. He couldn’t help but wonder what all the unpacked boxes were, though. He’d seen a few in her kitchen, several in the living room, and with her closet door open, he’d spotted a good amount stacked in there. Hadn’t she said she’d lived here for a few months?
