She stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind her. Through the door Joe heard Edward’s low, controlled voice murmur something.
“Ask him,” Kristen snapped. “You think he’s so great, and he’s a fucking liar!”
There was a pause, and then Joe heard the door of the hotel slam behind Kristen. She’d stayed in an executive room a few floors down for the duration, but Joe supposed she’d check out now. He sat down on the couch and leaned his head back against the warm leather, eyes closed.
When Edward finally let himself intothe room, it wasn’t with the question that Joe expected.
“Have you seen this?”
Joe opened his eyes and clenched his jaw against the urge to flinch away as Edward thrust the charred bear into his face. Being stuffed unceremoniously in an envelope had done nothing for its looks. In addition to the burn scars, the stuffing had shifted in its head and one of the crackled eyes had pulled free. Smoke-stainedcotton poked out of the hole.
“Where did you get that?”
“Tate’s room.”
“You searched his room?” Joe asked coldly as he pushed the bear out of his face. “Who, exactly, gave you permission to do that?”
“Technically the room was rented by Bailey Holdings,” Edward said as he withdrew the battered stuffed toy. “As their representative, I don’t need permission to go through one of our own rooms.Especially when I had suspicions he might be involved in an ongoing security issue. Where the hell did he get this?”
“From me,” Joe said. “I asked him to get rid of it. My stalker sent it. I don’t know why. Do you?”
Edward glanced down at the charred, malformed thing in his hand. The expression on his face hinted at the same sort of bile-sour horror Joe felt when he looked at it, although maybethere was less confusion mixed in for him.
“No,” he said as he slowly unclenched his fingers and set the bear down. Upright. Gently.
“Then why did you think I needed to see it?”
Edward gave him a scathing look. “Look at it,” he said. “It’s what those of us in the business call a red flag. When did the stalker send this?”
“A few days ago.” Joe drained the whiskey and set the glass down. Helicked his lips and got up off the couch. “It was delivered by a courier. I didn’t get the name.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Edward demanded as he followed Joe to the desk. “This is my job. If I’m going to protect you, protect your family’s interests, you can’t keep something like this from me.”
Joe laughed dryly and held up a hand in halfhearted apology as Edward’s face darkened with frustration.
“It’s not funny, I know,” he said. “But be honest, Edward. That’s ironic coming from you, isn’t it?”
“What?”
The truth was on the tip of Joe’s tongue, but he swallowed before it blurted it out. It still made sense to keep Edward in the dark, at least until Joe hadsomethingprobative to put his finger on. But he was tired of lies—a flat, spent distaste had left a bad taste in his mouth—so hestripped the details off. The bones of that old frustration had been where this started.
“What really happened to my mother?” he asked as he flicked through a stack of folders.
Edward blinked. Once. “What do you mean?” he said. “You know what happened. She died, it was—”
“Sudden,” Joe interrupted, “and tragic. But how? Did she have a stroke? Heart attack? You worked for my dad back then. Youmust have known her.”
There was a pause. Edward cleared his throat and nodded slowly. “Only briefly,” he said. “I didn’t get the chance to get to know her, but I think I would have liked her. Joe, this is something you need to talk to your father about. I didn’t…. It’s not my place to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” Joe asked sharply. “I’m not a child anymore, Edward. I’ve no idea who this womanwas. I barely know what she looked like. You aren’t going to burst some bubble I’ve been carrying around. I want to know the truth.”
Edward grimaced, a barely there twitch of his stern mouth. “People say that, Joe,” he said. “But they rarely do.”
“So thereissomething you’re not telling me, then?”
“You’re right,” Edward said. He paused long enough that Joe braced himself for a confession.“You’re not a child anymore and, maybe, your dad owes you some answers. I’ll talk to him when we get back, once he’s a bit stronger—”
“Or later,” Joe suggested with tired disgust. “Or sometime. Tell you what, Edward, don’t bother.”
