“He’s coming. I saw him, I sawhim, I saw him!”
“Stay back.”
“No, I—”
“Now. Behind the house. Go.”
Aaron exited the cottage, propping the front door with a box as Darcy stormed off, radiating petulance.
Aaron returned inside and reemerged with two more boxes stacked one on top of the other. When he aimed for the driveway, I scrambled toward the yard in time to stay out of sight.
At the car, Aaron set the boxes on the ground and used a fob to pop the trunk. He didn’t place them inside and instead returned to the house. He came out with two more boxes and added them to the pile.
Glancing along the street in both directions, he paced to the end of the driveway and placed another call.
I didn’t know how many boxes he had to collect, but I wasn’t interested in waiting any longer. The proof was in the open. He couldn’t deny its existence, so while Aaron’s back was turned, I motioned for Darcy to stay while I crossed to Aaron’s vehicle.
Pocketing his phone after another unsuccessful call, he turned and found me leaning against the open trunk, a boot propped on a box, venom in my eyes, fury in my bones.
He came to an abrupt halt and flashed his attention to the street and back. “Where the fuck did you come from?”
“Your nightmares.” I grinned maniacally, aiming for the essence of a deranged psychopath. “Hello, Aaron.” And if there was a touch of Hannibal Lecter in my tone, so be it.
The man shuffled, seeming unsure how to proceed.
“I hear you were getting handsy with my boyfriend today. I don’t like that.”
“It was…” He paused as though scrambling for words or an explanation, then glanced briefly at the boxes with what seemed a momentary debate. I imagined he was asking himself what had precipitated this confrontation. Was it jealousy, or did I know about the files?
“Tallus initiated it.”
I snorted. “Bullshit. You initiated it weeks ago when Tallus decided my grandmother needed a party, and the director guided him into your orbit. You think I don’t see the way you flirt with him? The way you touch him every chance you get? You think we don’t talk about you at home?”
I had him off-kilter. Aaron’s gaze kept returning to the banker boxes, indecision painting deep lines across his forehead.
“It won’t happen again.”
“No. It won’t because it will be hard to flirt with my boyfriend from behind bars.”
The color drained from Aaron’s face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Where’s Luke? We have a score to settle, and it has nothing to do with whatever dirty secret is inside these boxes.” I kicked the top box from the pile, and it toppled, spreading its contents across the driveway. Brown file folders. Dozens of them.
Nonchalantly, I squatted and tugged one free, thumbing it open. “Interesting.”
Aaron didn’t stop me, but he did step closer as though intent on intervening.
“You might want to stay over there.” I didn’t lift my gaze from the file. “I tend to have a hair-trigger temper, and I’m not over your transgression yet. At the moment, I would love to break your face like I did your boyfriend’s car window, and it’s taking a lot of self-control not to.”
Aaron stilled.
“What is this?” I waved the folder in the air, then tossed it aside and plucked another from the ground. They contained Excel forms. Lists of personal information. Banking information. Withdrawals. Summaries. Social media links. Photographs.
“I… I don’t know. Luke asked me to—”
“Don’t fucking lie to me.” I tossed the second folder aside and stood to my full six and a half feet, broadening my shoulders and lifting my chin.
Aaron cowered.
