Rough Hard Fierce: A Bad Boy Romance Boxed Set (Chicago Underground #1-3)

I sat Bailey on the love seat and handed her the tube of diaper rash cream to occupy her while I told Shelly what the cop had said. I left out the part about the groping, but Shelly was a smart girl. She’d put together his visit with my breakdown yesterday. She still may not know why exactly, but it probably wouldn’t take her long to connect it back to that time in the hospital either.

Shelly shook her head. “You’re crazy, sweetheart.”

“I know,” I agreed. “But I have to do something. Colin doesn’t keep anything around the house.” I knew that, not from snooping but just from trying to do a kick-ass job at cleaning. There weren’t any papers in the study. The computer was password protected, and I wasn’t so skilled a spy that I could break into that. Besides, I felt oddly better about poking around in Philip’s home than in Colin’s. Even though Colin might see it as the same thing, it sort of wasn’t. I wouldn’t let my actions harm Colin.

“Well,” Shelly said. “Philip doesn’t leave stuff around either. He’s kind of paranoid. If there’s anything important, it’ll be in his study. And there wouldn’t be much online either. From what I’ve seen, he’s real old-fashioned. Likes to do things by paper. No chance of backups or hackers or anything.”

“Paper?” I asked. “Isn’t that less secure? I’d expect a fancy dude like him to have high-tech security and shit.”

“Oh, he does,” she said. “The whole house is rigged to burn if the security gets tripped. No paper trail, just ashes.”

Great, we were having dinner in a matchbox. Paranoid was right. “So what do I have to do to make sure we don’t all fry?”

“You’re sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” I said.

“All right.” She reached between her breasts and pulled out a key.

I accepted the key, still warm from her body, and gave her a wry look. “Really?”

“I make it work,” she said airily. I didn’t even want to know how she had this key. Even if Philip trusted her, why would she need it? She wouldn’t. I narrowed my eyes. She gave me her best “I’m a dumb blonde” smile. Not that I bought it for a second, but I also knew when I was beat. And running out of time.

“Okay,” I said. “You go back to the group. I need to freshen up.”

“Sure thing,” she said, playing along. “I’ll take Bailey. She doesn’t get enough time with Aunt Shelly.”

She trooped out the bathroom door with the diaper bag and Bailey. I used the bathroom. Well, I had to pee. And I was already nervous enough to piss myself as it was. I washed up and then peeked out the door. No one.

Feeling very suave and very terrified, I slipped into the hallway and down to the double doors that I recognized from the study.

What if he was in there? Or someone else could be. I rapped lightly. Nothing.

The lock was a monster of a dead bolt, but the key slid in and turned easily. I pushed the door open just a crack, waiting for flames. Then I laughed at myself. It would be a fitting way to go for my sins.

After I slipped inside, I left the door ajar to listen for anyone approaching. The thin band of light from the hall illuminated the deep leather armchairs we’d sat in last time. The desk waited for me in the dark side of the room. I crossed to it and flipped on a small lamp. I sifted through a few papers right on top: documents, maps, schematics.

In a side drawer I found a leather binder so thick my hand could barely grasp it. The smell of ink wafted up from the pages when I opened the flap. It was a ledger of some sort. Thin green lines demarcated entries that provided a long space for description, an amount, a few columns for balance adjustments from different accounts. The descriptions varied from initials to long scrawls, followed by symbols and letters. This wasn’t what I needed. I returned it to the drawer.

Atop the desk, underneath the scattered papers, I hit the jackpot. It was one of those desk calendars, the kind a secretary might use to schedule meetings. In thick black lettering, an address and time were written into two days from now. There were a few other notes made, but that one was the most conspicuous. It had to be what the cop was looking for. I scribbled it onto a blank scrap of paper I found. I stared at it for a second, then tucked it into my bra. Time to go.

I paused on a whim. What might be in that ledger? Something about Rick, maybe. I could find out whether there’d been any truth to his words before confronting Colin, but that was greedy. I really needed to get back. I flipped off the lamp, slipped back out the door, and locked it. I shoved the key down next to the slip of paper. The paper was itchy, the key cold against my skin.

I glanced both ways as if crossing the street. Which way?

I went down the hallway. Hmm.

This was ridiculous. The house wasn’t that big.

Okay. It was.

I saw the tall archway that had led into the large room from earlier. Thank God. I rushed in and froze. This was not the right room.

Rose and Laramie sprang apart. Laramie cleared his throat. Rose looked down and smoothed her dress out.

“I was wondering,” I said, “which way led back to the group.”

A red-faced Rose gestured through the room to another large archway. “In there.”