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“We found several hidden caches of cash. Some drugs.” Craig was shaking his head. “And some more journals. Man, he was sick, Joe.”
Maggie watched Joe’s expression even out, become distant. Grant had nearly destroyed a part of Joe. The two men had been friends for most of their lives. Joe claimed him as a brother, a confidant. He hadn’t known the cruel, bitter side to Grant that she had.
“Any clues in the journals?” Joe leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his knees as he watched the other man.
“Pretty much what we found in the others.” Craig shrugged. “Different topics, same shit.” He shook his head wearily. “We really didn’t know him, did we?”
Grant had often laughed over that. How the others didn’t really know him, had no idea how much smarter he was, how he could always stay one step ahead of them. Especially Joe. Poor dumb Joe, he would snicker, who would never know how easy he was to fool, how easy it was to use him. Right down to the car Joe had treasured. The ’69 Mustang Joe cherished …
The Mustang. Grant had hated that car. He always sneered when he spoke of it, with an edge of smug satisfaction.
That taunting, self-satisfied gloat had always entered his voice.
She turned from the two men slowly, praying she appeared casual as she moved into the kitchen, toward the coffeepot. She didn’t know Craig well enough, and she could be wrong. And, oh God, if she managed to lead Joe to the information after all, he was never going to believe that she had nothing to do with Grant’s illegal activities.
She pressed her hand to her stomach, breathing in deeply when she paused by the counter. If he didn’t believe in her, he would never have dared to risk a pregnancy with her, she thought with a surge of hope. Joe was very family-oriented. Even though he had many disagreements with his family, she knew he loved t
hem and she knew he was fiercely protective of them.
She hated this. Hated the position Grant had placed her in. He was so lucky he was dead; if he weren’t, Maggie believed she would have been tempted to kill him herself at this moment.
As she reached for a coffee cup she heard the two men in the living room moving for the front door.
“Let me know what Johnson says,” Joe was saying as the front door opened. Maggie knew the “Johnson” in question had to be the DA she had met at the police station.
“Will do, and you watch your ass,” Craig grunted. “Hopefully this will be over soon.”
“Hopefully,” Joe answered just before Maggie heard the door close.
She left the cup sitting on the counter in front of the coffeepot as she waited. Within seconds, she felt him. First, it was just an impression of strength, of warmth, then his arms were coming around her waist and his lips were pressing into her hair.
“What’s wrong, Maggie?” His voice was husky, the dark undertone of arousal threading through it.
She breathed in roughly.
“Grant wouldn’t have hidden that information at the house.” Her heart was racing in fear. “It would have been too easily found. He didn’t work that way.”
“I figured as much.” He kissed the top of her head again before pulling away and allowing her to turn and face him.
Meeting his gaze wasn’t easy, but she did. She found the dark chocolate depths of his eyes filled with warmth and a question. The suspicion she had feared wasn’t there, but that did little to temper her other fears.
“What did you remember, Maggie?” He tipped his head to the side, watching her closely as she clenched her fingers together in front of her.
“You’re so sure I remembered it? Not that I already knew it?” She was slicing her own throat, and she felt the breath strangling in her throat from it.
A small smile quirked his lips.
“I deserved that,” he admitted with a small nod of his head. “I’m not stupid, baby. You lived with him for two years. It’s only logical that you may have heard of something that you’ll eventually remember.”
“Not that I was working with him?”
“Maggie.” He reached up to push the strands of hair that had fallen over her face back behind her ear. “I don’t believe you were involved with this, so let’s stop tiptoeing around each other and finish this up. If you’ve remembered something, then let me know. We’ll get this taken care of, get the danger off your back, and start our lives together.”
She inhaled with a trembling breath, tears filling her eyes at the gentleness in his voice.
“Your car,” she whispered. “Grant was always going on and on about that Mustang. While you were talking to Craig, I remembered how smug he acted the last time. The expression on his face. I think he might have hidden the information in that car someplace.”
His eyes narrowed as he rubbed his jaw.
