Page 139 of Twisted Knight

Well … fuck.

But I don’t have much time to dwell on her or chastise myself for it because the minute the elevator doors shut, Tweedledee and Tweedledum are walking down the hall toward my office.

Huh. Guess we weren’t here alone after all.

Audrey’s right. You’re losing your edge, Knight.

“Where were you?” Rhett asks like he has a right to know.

“Excuse me?” I ask.

“You heard me,” Rhett says. He’s clearly irritated and more than wrong if he thinks I’m going to tell him shit.

“I was out. What I was doing is none of your business.”

“You were with Rowan,” he says as he strides in front of my desk. “You had Audrey bring her car back so that means she was with you. Are we taking secret field trips now? Should I worry about the lengths you’ll go to get inside information on me? On us?”

Touchy. Touchy. Someone is most definitely getting paranoid.

“Now, why would I need inside information?” I ask. “What good will that do me if everything is on the up-and-up like you say it is? Is there something you want to share with me?”

They exchange a look. Ah. Definitely paranoid.

Gotcha.

“Rowan. Were you with her?”

“I was. Yes.” I lean back and contemplate the million answers I could give. The thoughts alone leave a half-assed smirk on my lips.

Rhett catches it. So does Chad. Perfect.

“Looking at property,” I say.

“Where?”

I chuckle; the sound hits like a fuck you if you think I’m telling you, but then I decide to play with them some. “There are a few across state lines we checked out. A few within state lines.”

“You still haven’t said why you’re looking at property,” Chad says.

“I wasn’t aware I had to, but you can never go wrong with property, right? It’s always deemed a surefire investment.” Haven’t we had this conversation before? “It’s tangible. The interest is a write-off. I could go on, but I’m sure you guys know all the reasons.”

Rhett nods. “Rowan doesn’t know shit about real estate.”

“Perfect. All the more reason to have her tag along so I can teach her.” What else you got, Rothschild?

“Great, fine. But can’t it wait? This is a huge transition—you coming in. Taking over. Probably changing things up. Maybe we should all just stick to what we know for now and rattle the cages in six months when everyone is more comfortable.”

I hold his stare and love that he’s trying to make demands of me. I decide to carry on the conversation as if he asked. “We were looking at a piece of land off of Grafton Road. Another on Highway 43. And, shit, where was the other one?” I shuffle through the papers on my desk as if I can’t recall and stop when I find some random map. “Oh, right. Another out on WillowBend and Greenmill.”

The forced swallow.

The fleeting glance between them.

“Grafton Road is a shit area,” Chad says.

“Well, that depends on what you want the land for, right?” I ask, knowing damn well why he’s steering me elsewhere.

“True, but you haven’t lived here for long. That area has decreased in value a lot over the past few years,” he says.