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He straightened.
Scarlet gazed into Sam’s eyes and said, “And my huntsman?”
“Happy to be all manly for you, darlin’.”
Her toes curled. “Then why don’t you take me to the bedroom?”
“To sleep,” Michael insisted. “You need to take it easy, sweetheart. Your body can’t be feeling all that refreshed.”
“I’m sore as hell,” she confessed. “And I need more ibuprofen for my head.”
Michael carefully lifted her into his arms. “Bed it is.”
She glanced back at Sam. “And you’ll join us?”
He hauled himself up. Kissed her, then said, “Yes.”
Scarlet had no delusions that all was well. That they were cured of all that ailed them.
Because she still had that damn phone call to make in the morning.
Scarlet slept soundly enough, nestled between Michael and Sam. The second day following her accident was pretty much equivalent to the two-day pai
n of a really hard workout. Her neck ached, her head still throbbed, and her legs were toast. She limped to the bathroom and soaked in the tub while Michael and Sam went about their business. Eventually, she smelled food, her stomach grumbled, and she finished up and joined the men at the breakfast table.
Michael’s apartment was opulent, with endless black marble and modern artwork and sculptures. Panoramic views.
Scarlet literally dragged out the meal as long as possible, dreading the task that lay ahead.
She was in no particular hurry to destroy Karina’s reputation. Or taint the rest of the family’s.
It kind of surprised Scarlet that Michael hadn’t made a plea for her to turn a blind eye to all she’d learned. After all, it wasn’t the FBI she was reporting to. And Michael had been so sensitive from the get-go about anyone poking around in family business. Then she recalled what he’d told her that night in the near-impossible-to-locate club. That her ethics would be his undoing.
An interesting premonition to have come true.
Sam wasn’t making any appeals to her, either. That perplexed Scarlet in that Sam was incredibly protective and his emotions ran deep. He had to be reeling from the recent events. From knowing all the lies his mother had told and the secrets she’d kept.
Conversely, he was a straight shooter and stalwart. So Scarlet really couldn’t imagine him asking her to bend the truth or make blatant omissions—not even for his mother’s sake. Apparently, he wouldn’t put Scarlet in that position any more than Michael would.
In addition, she surmised that both men likely felt it was all best left in Mitcham’s care. He was Karina’s husband. It appeared he intended to stand by her, so probably the greatest defense she could have in surviving all of this was for him to help her through.
That did not free Michael and Sam from their own guilt. Scarlet could see that quite clearly, could sense it as the grave undertone permeated the apartment. Karina had taken it upon herself to protect her children. Her household. And Scarlet suspected two strong men such as Michael and Sam would have sympathy for Karina for that ever having to be the case. That she had to go to such drastic measures to thwart whatever Wyatt might have planned for the family.
All of this left Scarlet with even more extreme difficulty in phoning her client. She watched the snow fall on New York City as she tapped the business card for her contact at the insurance agency against her fingertips. Her cell was on an end table not far away. She just couldn’t bring herself to reach for it.
The do-gooder was flailing miserably.
Maybe it’d be better if Michael and Sam had put some pressure on her to not rat out Karina. That might have compelled Scarlet to spring into action. To pull the whole “justice will prevail” card on them.
But no.
As best as she could tell at the moment, they accepted her position.
Scarlet let out a long-suffering sigh. Right now they accepted her position. But when the shit really hit the fan…? This was no petty crime they were talking about here. No misdemeanor that only warranted a slap on the hand. Insurance fraud, particularly of this magnitude, was a felony. Plain and simple. Whether the statute of limitations for prosecution had run out or not.
The Hamptons “ladies who lunch” would no doubt be deleting Karina Vandenberg from their contact lists. She’d become a social pariah. One of her biggest fears come to life.
“Fuck,” Scarlet mumbled.
