Page 21 of Too Broken to Love

He didn’t reply. The General’s favor wasn’t a question. It was a command.

Malcolm yawned. “Telling Tessa she’s in the will could have waited until the sun fully rose.”

It could have, but sleep had been cut short by a nightmare. He’d bet Tessa wasn’t faring much better with resting either.

Hudson zipped his hoodie up to his neck. It wasn’t body armor, but the Navy logo was the closest thing he had to a shield. “Take your fee out of my inheritance, and stop whining. Or better yet, take it out of Vivian’s.”

Malcolm laughed. “Man, she was pissed last night when you wouldn’t give her the ring. I swear she was salivating.”

Hudson tightened his jaw. His molars throbbed from the tension. “Did you get the ring to your buddy?”

“Yeah. That’s going to cost you triple. You’re lucky he’s a geek who sleeps all day and games all night.” Malcolm maneuvered around a garbage truck. “Still think it’s a good idea for him to put a tracker in Tessa’s ring?”

“Probably not.” The decision sat wrong in Hudson’s gut, but it was necessary. “I don’t think she’s lying, but she’s skittish. Once I’m sure that what she’s guarding has nothing to do with Pop, I’ll take it out.” He yawned and stretched his denim-clad legs. “Still won’t tell me what Pop left her, other than it’s sizeable.”

“You know I can’t until I file the paperwork and contact all the parties involved. In the meantime, you might want to start calling Tessa an heiress.”

“I don’t think so.” Pretty little thief suited her to a T.

“I’m serious, man. I shouldn’t be telling you this, but she’s worth enough to kill for.”

Malcolm’s words hung in the air with the weight of all the implied zeroes. The shift heightened every instinct Hudson possessed. “Jesus, that kind of money isn’t an inheritance—it’s an invitation for all sorts of danger.” He cut his gaze to the window and searched for threats. “How soon until you can reveal the contents of the will?”

“Tomorrow night.”

Malcolm pulled into Pop’s neighborhood. Way too many cars for a fall Saturday morning lined the streets. Fuck, he’d forgotten about the tournament.

He debated telling Malcolm to turn around. He couldn’t handle condolences and stories from Pop’s friends who might pass by on their way to the pier, but he had a mission.

Malcolm whistled low as they approached the duplex. The paramedic from last night sat on the steps tying her sneakers. The porch light cast a soft glow over the hair piled on her head.

He glanced at Malcolm. “Pick up your jaw.”

Malcolm waved to her as he pulled into the driveway. “I have a theory about why Pop didn’t tell you the truth about Tessa’s age.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Well…” Malcolm cut the engine. “The last time Pop tried to set you up it was a disaster.”

Hudson looked at the scar on his palm. “I made the old man swear never to introduce me to another ‘nice girl’ again.”

“So, if he had told you he wanted you to meet the nice girl next door, you would have run the other way.”

“You’re not wrong.”

Hudson opened the door and swung his legs out. As he cursed Pop’s suspected deviance, he met Malcolm on the paved path to the porch.

Lia met them halfway. “If you’re looking for Tessa, she went up to the tournament.”

Hudson’s stomach bottomed out as he glanced toward the pier. “How long ago did she leave?”

Lia shoved her hands in the back pocket of her running shorts and eyed Malcolm from head to toe. “Not sure. I was about to go back inside and grab a scone and go find her.”

“Ralphie’s scones?” Malcolm rubbed his stomach.

Worry rippled across Lia’s face. “Yeah. Is Ralphie okay?”

“Last I checked, he was asleep at the house. Would you happen to have coffee too?”