A low growl I’m relieved no one is here to witness slips out when I see Lilah reach out to touch her hand to the man’s shoulder. I don’t want her touching any man that isn’t me.
I don’t understand this new part of me. I don’t think I like it.
But she’s just so attractive. Not just in a physical sense, though there’s no denying that. She’s attractive in an emotional sense. In an intellectual sense. She’s just fucking attractive. And I don’t like the way he’s grinning at her.
Did he just let his eyes drop to her chest? Oh, fuck no.
Lilah laughs hard enough to throw her head back. Dark blonde waves glitter gold as they fall down the length of her back. I don’t think she’s ever laughed like this with me. Am I even capable of making her laugh like that?
I think I’m jealous. Again.
I hate this.
I turn from the window only to spin back around, unable to stop myself from watching her. She’s like a drug I just can’t quit. I finally understand addiction.
I scowl and startle as the door to my office swings open and Nash calls, “Honey, I’m home.”
I must not hide my scowl quick enough, because his head notches back and he asks, “What’s up?”
I stab my finger into the drawings, trying to cutwhatever web has me in a stranglehold to this bloody woman. “Something’s off here.”
Nash’s hands find his hips as he strolls closer. “Nothing is off. It’s perfection.” He gives the drawing a frown for only a second before his eyes follow mine to the image outside the window. His grin spreads wide. “Oh, I see what’s off.” He chuckles like the asshat he is. “I can’t fix that, though.”
I’m about to lay into him when my cell rings on my desk. My eyes shift once more to Lilah and the man outside the window before I curse and move to close the small space between the table and my desk.
I grunt, “I need a bigger fucking office.” I swipe the phone from the desk and lift it to my ear. “Briggs here.”
“It’s Carson Powler,” the private detective I’d hired to look into Lilah’s claims of being swindled says. “I’ve got the information you wanted.”
Something in my gut burns. “And?”
“It’s a lot. Can we meet in person?”
“Tell me the gist of it now. Then we’ll meet.”
“She wasn’t lying,” he tells me, and that burn in my gut intensifies. My expression must darken, because Nash’s face gets hard and his stance widens as he crosses his arms over his chest, as though he’s ready for bad news. Ready to act on it.
“She was scammed by this Michael Pierce?”
“She was. But that’s not his name,” Carson says flatly.
“What is his name?”
“I still don’t know that.” Carson’s pitch drops to one of dark warning. That burn in my gut boils hotter. “This man is dangerous, and he doesn’t work alone. There’s a crew of four of them, and Lilah isn’t the first one they’ve conned. The sister, Melody Pierce, runs her own romantic cons at the same time as Michael. I believe they compete. I can’t find anything about the parents, other than their reported names are Trisha and Dillion Pierce. I believe they are the financial brains behind the operation. The group never takes more than eighty thousand dollars from one victim, the cons usually lasting between four and eight months. Though there is evidence they are running more than one con within that timeframe. They also don’t target wealthy individuals. Most of the victims I’ve found who have made similar allegations to the police have filed the accusations stating they’ve had credit pulled in their name or been convinced to pull lines of credit that have then been pulled in cash.”
“All this is happening under the Pierce name?” I ask coolly, though anger boils.
“They work under multiple aliases. I’ve pulled similar crimes in the province, though I’ve found a similar group working outside of Alberta as well. I can’t be certain if they are connected, but if they are the operation may be far larger and more sophisticated than we think. I recommend caution if you wish to proceed.”
“I want to proceed. These people deserve to be behind bars.” I shove my hand through my hair.
“Lilah could be in danger if we proceed, and they trace my poking back to you. To her.”
“She’s safe with me,” I growl. Just the thought of someone hurting her has acid eating through the lining of my throat. My hand curls into a fist.
I think I could be dangerous, in the right scenario.
My gaze drifts again to the window, and I see her walking toward the barn. Toward my office. There’s a happy little skip in her step as she bounces in her sandals, the floral sundress she wears showing off far too much of her tan legs.
