Sins, Lies & Spies (Black Brothers #2)(64)

The floorboards creaked, and Trinity squeezed my hand. “What was that?”

I shook my head and held my finger to her lips, my arm rustling against the sheet. With practiced ease, I slipped out of the bed and grabbed the switchblade inside the pocket of my pants. Unfortunately, I didn’t bring my gun. I knew Trinity had one, so I didn’t bother. I should’ve put it on the nightstand before we fell asleep, but I forgot.

I reached the door to the bedroom and cracked it open without a betraying squeak of the hinges or click of the door handle. The cool air wrapped around my chest from the hallway. My gaze shifted through the shadows, finally landing on a darkened silhouette pressed against the wall.

I glanced over my shoulder at Trinity. She sat with her back pressed against the headboard, clutching the sheets against her chest. I pointed to her and then to my feet, hoping she understood I wanted her to come stand next to me. I didn’t know what kind of weapons this person had, but Trinity would be a sitting duck in the bed.

Without vacillating, she slipped out of bed and tiptoed across the floor, stopping only when her front pressed against my back. Her warm exhalations whispered along my skin.

“Someone’s here,” she mumbled.

I nodded and pulled our bodies flush against the drywall, waiting for the person to move to the bedroom. After a minute that felt like an hour, I sensed someone just outside the door. My muscles tensed, prepared to strike, disarm, and kill if necessary. I hadn’t killed anyone since I left the military. I never liked that part of my job. As a Naval Intelligence officer, it didn’t happen as often as someone on the front lines, but I had killed people to protect and defend others and myself.

The door floated open, almost in slow motion, and a person dressed in black tentatively stepped over the threshold. I lunged forward, wrapping my arms around the person’s shockingly small waist. We hit the ground with a loud thud.

The intruder kicked, bucked, and hit. I straddled the person’s waist and immobilized his arms above his face. Trinity flipped on the overhead light, bathing the room in a yellow glow and I froze. It wasn’t a man. It was a woman. Even in a dark wig, I knew it was Darcey Benton. She had icy blue eyes, a long angular nose, and sharp cheekbones. I’d never talked to her, but our paths had crossed many times since I started investigating Derrick Benton.

My muscles tensed. “Why are you here?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Get off of me. I just wanted to have a little conversation with Trinity Jones.”

“I don’t think so.” I kept her arms pinned to the ground with one hand as I searched her for weapons. I didn’t find anything except a syringe filled with clear liquid. I pulled it out of the pocket of her black wool jacket.

I waved it in front of her face. “What’s this?”

She pursed her lips together, and hundreds of tiny wrinkles burst from the skin around her mouth. “It’s nothing.”

I held it out, and Trinity scooped it out of my hand, placing it on top of the dresser.

“Trinity,” I said, keeping my eyes glued on Darcey Benton. “Grab my phone from the pocket of my pants and call Ben Livingston.”

She crouched on the floor and stuffed her hand into the pocket of my discarded pants. “Who’s that?”

“My contact at the FBI.”

“No.” Darcey Benton shook her head back and forth, strands of hair from her black wig sticking to her face. “Just hear me out. I want talk to Miss Jones about solving this mess amicably without involving the press or anyone.”

“Let her go, Knox,” she said, her voice lacking emotion. “I want to hear what she has to say.”

I relaxed my hands around her wrist, but I didn’t move off her yet. “I think you’re making a mistake. Wait until you have the benefit of your attorney’s counsel tomorrow. You can’t trust her.”

***

Trinity



“I know that,” I answered with growing numbness as I stared into Darcey Benton’s icy blue eyes.

In truth, it didn’t matter what she said, tonight or tomorrow. I was done with my life being stuck in neutral while I followed the Bentons’ rules. I might not want my half of the trust, but I didn’t think Derrick or his mother should get the money either. They didn’t deserve it. With my back to Darcey and Knox, I propped his phone against a book and pressed the red button on the video camera of his phone. I spun around and used my body to shield the red light from Darcey and Knox.

“Go ahead.” I planted my hands on my hips. “I don’t have all night. I have an early morning appointment with my attorney.”

Knox stood and Darcey climbed to her feet, brushing the invisible dirt from her long jacket.

“Your share of the trust is worth roughly fifteen million dollars. However, the terms of the trust restrain your ability to access the money. You are entitled to a small yearly allowance starting at the age of twenty-five and continuing for the remainder of your life. If you don’t have children, the money will revert to Derrick or his heirs when you die.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “So what’s your point?”

“If you agree to sign papers giving up any right to the Benton Family Trust, and you publically deny Richard Benton was your biological father, I’m prepared to wire seven and a half million dollars into your bank account immediately.”