“Ms. Grant,” he said in a disinterested voice. “I’m Detective Perlman. I hear you got yourself into a spot of trouble tonight.”
She was almost confused how he could sound so condescending in so few words. “I got myself into a lot of trouble tonight?” she said. “I have no idea what those men would’ve done to me if the police hadn’t shown up.”
“Ms. Grant, do you want to tell me what you were doing here tonight?”
Shae knew that she had come here with the intention of breaking the law, but she had no idea why this cop was acting so accusatory toward her. It’s not like he knew that.... Did he? “I came here because Blackthorne has been trying to buy the house that I’m working on right now. They have been getting more aggressive, and I was hoping to have a reasonable conversation with somebody. I called the office, but nobody answered.”
“So you were trespassing?”
Shae’s eyes widened, and she tried to figure what she had done so wrong so quickly to get this interview going downhill so fast. “I was barely on the property when the guards picked me up. And besides, if I was trespassing, they should’ve called the cops. I was thrown into a closet and tied up. Why don’t you ask me about the men who did that?”
“Now, when you were in there, was there anybody else with you?” he asked, pointedly not asking about the men who’d assaulted her.
Once again, her temper reared its ugly head, and Shae had to ball her hands into fists. She had never once punched a guy she just met, but now she was damn tempted. “When I was thrown into the closet, it was empty.”
“And it stayed empty the whole time?”
Shae frowned. He wasn’t interested in her. He was interested in the man who had been with her. The one who’d abandoned her. But how would he know? “Were you able to catch any of the men on the property?”
“Except for you, the building was deserted when we got here.”
Shae knew that was a lie. When they’d gotten there, all the Blackthorne men had gone running. She’d heard the panicked footsteps. More disturbing was that if none of the men had been caught, there should be no way for this cop to know that she wasn’t alone in the closet. So if none of the bad guys were caught, and she hadn’t told anyone about the other guy, and the other guy was long gone, there was only one way Detective Perlman could have been getting this information.
Shae didn’t lie. He was asking questions he already knew partial answers to. “There was another guy who was thrown in there with me. He was the one who knocked down the door, but it was too dark for me to see his face. He said his name is John, but I’m pretty sure he was lying.” As far as she knew, he’d lied about everything. Until the police had come in, she’d been half convinced that he was one of Blackthorne’s men sent to interrogate her. That would explain why he left so quickly.
On the other hand, the only reason the cops would’ve shown up when they did must’ve been because he called. So was he the man who abandoned her, or was he the one who saved her?
It wouldn’t matter. She’d probably never see him again. “I don’t understand what he has to do with anything. Don’t you want to find the men who locked me in there?”
“Ms. Grant, I’m sure you understand that you’re in a bit of a predicament here. If I take your statement down, you’re basically admitting to breaking a whole bunch of laws. So, I’m going to do you a favor. I’m gonna let you go, and not charge you with anything. Sound good?”
No, it didn’t sound good. It sounded as if he was doing anything possible to keep her from making her statement. This Detective Perlman was obviously embedded with Blackthorne, and he wasn’t even bothering to try to hide it from her. She didn’t know why she was surprised. She’d had to deal with the rich thinking they had all the power in the world her entire life.
Shae did the only thing she could do. She nodded wordlessly. She was stupid to think she could take on Blackthorne. She’d be even stupider to think that fighting with this cop right now would be a good idea.
But yet, her hands were still balled into fists where they held the blanket close. Shae wasn’t one to give up easily. And if Damask thought he’d gotten rid of her, he had another think coming.
Tristan wasn’t exactly expecting a happy homecoming as he made his way back to the giant house that Hart Securities had set up in, but the casual “You’re in a load of shit,” from Hunter didn’t help.
“That’s what I get for hanging out with a ginger,” mumbled Tristan as he walked through the recently empty house.
Hart Securities, his new employer, was run by two people: Scott Hart, a former cop who was too disillusioned to stay with the job and decided he could do better for people on his own, and his hacker girlfriend, Toni Murray. Tristan had no idea why the two weren’t married, considering they seemed practically joined at the hip these days. He liked them both well enough, but he and Toni seemed to have more in common. She was like him. Used to being on the wrong side of right. Used to running from the police, not working with them.
But that didn’t mean he didn’t like Hart. The man was smart, and Tristan respected brains more than just about anything. If he was honest with himself, he did like the whole mission statement thing. It was almost the best of both worlds. He got to do what he did best and help people who needed it. It was a pretty good gig, not that he’d ever admit that to Hart.
And the paycheck didn’t hurt either. Toni and Hart had gotten their money through somewhat nefarious ways. Kind of Robin Hood-y: because they stole from the rich, they were using their massive fortunes to give back. But judging from the state-of-the-art computer system Toni had set up in the living room, and Hart’s vintage Corvette that seemed to have a completely rebuilt engine, they were using some of the funds for themselves. And that was why Tristan liked Hart. He wasn’t just a goody-two-shoes. He also knew how to have fun. Had Tristan ever seen him have fun? No. But Toni convinced him that it did happen every once in a while.
The large McMansion was an empty foreclosure. Toni had scoped it out for them. The tycoon who used to own the place had gone bankrupt after one of his many mistresses had cleared out his accounts and run off to a non-extradition country. Before he could clear up all his dirty deeds, the police had come after him and got him for—what else?—tax fraud. So he was sitting in jail while this house was set to go to auction, the funds going right to the government. For now, it was a perfect base for them. Because it was a foreclosure, there was no paper trail Blackthorne could use to come after them. Also, it was big enough to let all the people involved have space so they didn’t end up killing one another. Tristan desperately wanted space right now, but Hunter was following him around like a lost puppy.
“What the hell, man? I thought you were just supposed to be scoping things out?”
Tristan took a deep breath to keep himself from blurting out the truth to Hunter. “Shit happens,” he said evasively.