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Rubbing her palms together, Anastasia contemplated how to answer that. It didn't surprise her that Breanna sensed her turmoil, not given the uncanny connection that existed between them. But what could she possibly say to ease her cousin's mind?
"Don't skirt the issue or try lying to me," Breanna second-guessed her to warn. "You're terrible at hedging and even worse at lying."
A grin. "That certainly limits my options, now doesn't it?" Her smile faded. "Breanna, I'm not trying to hide things from you. I'm only trying to protect you."
"From my father," Breanna concluded.
"Yes. From your father."
A contemplative pause, during which time Breanna studied her cousin, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "But you have shared this dilemma of yours with someone. And I'd be willing to bet that someone is Damen Lockewood."
"You'd be right." This, at least, was something Anastasia could share with Breanna—something she was aching to share with her. "I'm in love with him," she admitted, gauging her cousin's reaction. "And what's even more wonderful, he's in love with me."
Genuine joy erupted on Breanna's face, and she rushed over, hugged Anastasia tightly. "I'm so happy for you—for you both." She drew back, teasing laughter dancing in her eyes. "Of course, I've known this for weeks. I was wondering how long it would take the two of you to figure it out. You're both so miserably stubborn."
"You're right." Anastasia smiled. "But we finally declared our feelings aloud."
"When?"
"Yesterday. At the House of Lockewood."
That elicited an entirely different reaction, worry clouding Breanna's face. "You didn't mention to me that you were going to the bank."
"The visit wasn't planned." Anastasia fell silent, torn between the attempt to protect her cousin and the realization that Breanna had a right to the truth—especially if that truth turned out to be a dangerous one. "Breanna, I overheard something yesterday, something terribly unnerving. I went to Damen for advice, and perhaps for help."
"And that something involves Father."
"Yes."
"Tell me what it is. I deserve to know." Breanna's jaw set as if to steel her for what was to come. "Even if I won't like what I hear."
"All
right." Anastasia sank down on the bed, relaying the entire conversation she'd overheard, ending with her talk with Damen and her subsequent decision to visit the offices of Colby and Sons. "If there's anything incriminating to be found, I'm sure that's where it will be. It's the only place Uncle George would feel secure about leaving such records."
"God." Breanna sank down beside her cousin. "This is even worse than I suspected." She massaged her temples, then abruptly stopped. Twisting about, she faced Anastasia. "But if my father is involved in something ugly, you could be endangering yourself by going there and trying to uncover evidence."
"That was Damen's argument. It didn't deter me. Nor will it now."
"Fine. Then I'm going with you."
"No." Anastasia leapt to her feet. "You're not."
"Stacie, he's my father. You're not putting yourself at risk alone."
Anastasia gave a hard shake of her head. "Breanna, listen to me. I'm not trying to be heroic. I'm trying to find answers. Thus far, I've succeeded in arranging all this without arousing Uncle George's suspicions. But if you suddenly appear by my side, insisting on learning a business you've never before expressed any interest in, all that will change. Your father's not a stupid man." Anastasia took Breanna's hand in hers. "I have to do this alone—for all our sakes, to get at the truth as soon as possible. And if our worst suspicions are confirmed, if Uncle George is indeed dangerous…" A swallow. "Then he must be dealt with before he can harm anyone."
"Anyone—meaning me."
"Yes, meaning you." Anastasia never diverted her gaze. "I asked you this once before, in a less than straightforward fashion. Now I'm asking you directly: does Uncle George strike you?"
"Strike me, yes. Beat me senseless, no. Do I sense an element of cruelty in him? Of course. But can I say I've ever feared for my safety? I … I don't think so."
"You've never given him reason to threaten your safety, or to become truly enraged, for that matter. But if you did, especially now, when he's constantly drinking, when his humor is as black as night and his temper so short that everyone cringes the minute he enters the room…" Anastasia's voice trailed off. "I can't vouch for what he might do. Nor can I vouch for his stability. The bottom line is, he's your father. That's not something you can undo. You're his responsibility until your twenty-first birthday. I can sever ties with him if need be. You can't. And I won't leave you here at his mercy." A pause. "Can you shoot a pistol?"
Breanna sucked in her breath. "What?"
"Humor me. Can you shoot?"
