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Holy shit.
“Seeing the symbol again jolted my memory,” he rasps. “I remembered where the bird in my nightmares was. It was tattooed on the men’s arms. A gang or crime syndicate, I don’t know.” His voice is strangled now. “And my uncle was with the men who killed my parents, standing there, saying nothing. Holding me as I screamed. Then he turned and walked away.”
I sit back, pulling free of his hold. His eyes are red but dry. “He saved you.”
Storm nods.
“Why?”
“Hell if I know.”
“But when you told him you remembered? What did your uncle say to that?”
“Nothing.”
I sigh and lean back against the cushions. “Did he have a tattoo? Like the other men? Did you check after he died?”
“What do you think?” His mouth twists as he leans over me. “I asked. Nothing, except for a small circle inked on his shoulder.”
“A circle?” I frown. “And the letter with the phoenix logo? Did they find it?”
“Nope. Gone. Either he or someone else cleared out his documents when he died, before the lawyers got to them.”
“What about his will? Didn’t he left you any clues?”
“Dammit, Ray, don’t you think I looked?” He rubs a hand over his head.
“And in the copy of his will the lawyers gave you today?”
“You think…? Shit.” He lifts the jacket and pulls the thick envelope out of the pocket, tears it open and shakes out the papers. “I can’t believe…”
Something clinks to the floor. I reach down and lift a small key.
We both stare at it in the faint light of the city that seeps through the curtains of the balcony doors. Storm unfolds the will papers, glances at them and puts them back down.
“Why would he do this?” he mutters. “What does it open? It could open just about everything in the world.”
“No, look how small it is.” I twirl it between my fingers. “It has to open a cupboard or a drawer.”
“A drawer where?”
“Where would your uncle expect you to look?”
“I don’t fucking know.” He takes it from me, examines it, then gives up and closes it in his fist. “You think he left me some… evidence, some clues?”
“Why else would he go into the trouble of leaving you this? He knew that would be the only time you’d be alone with the lawyers. Bet there were lots more people when they opened his will.”
He nods, his gaze distant. “The timing,” he says. “They killed my uncle and then tried to kill me, too. It’s as if they knew I’d receive this now. But that’s—”
A phone is ringing somewhere below our feet. Storm dives for his jacket that has fallen off us to the floor and fumbles for the pocket.
“Hawk,” he growls. He connects the call. “What do you want?”
I fight a smile. His hair is standing on end, and that growl is hot, and… God, I shouldn’t be thinking of that now. Not with everything he’s been telling me and the mess this is. I’d give anything to clear this up, particularly if it means keeping him safe—but what does it have to do with what’s happening?
“Yeah, so what did the triad say?” Storm sits up straighter, his gaze sharpening, and I suck in a breath. “What did—she didn’t? Shit, Hawk, you sure about that?”
Then he grabs me, drags me to him and kisses me hard. “It’s gonna be fine,” he whispers. “You didn’t kill anyone. They just want the money.”
