The Dom Who Loved Me (Masters and Mercenaries #1)(70)

If Sean thought for a moment Parnell would run and forget all about Grace, he would give the man a pair of sneakers. But a man like that would tie up his loose ends. Kayla’s body proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt. He turned his attention back to the interrogation room.

“I don’t know.” Grace was shoving a piece of paper back Ian’s way. Sean strained to see what it was. It looked like her signed checks for the security deposit box. Ian, or perhaps Mr. Black, had pulled some strings and gotten copies from the bank. Her voice sounded tinny and tired over the speakers.

“You have to know, Ms. Hawthorne. Is that or is that not your signature on the checks?” Ian pointed to the signature, his voice hard and unrelenting.

“Yes. I signed the checks.”

“For Evan Parnell?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t really know what it was for. Matt asked me. I pay out petty cash and all of his personal stuff. It’s his company, his money. If he wants to pay seventy-five dollars a month for a box somewhere, I guess I thought that was his business.”

“But the box was in your name.”

She bit her lip and remained silent.

Ian went on.

Black leaned in. “You know, Wright was always good with the ladies. He always kept one or two on his string to do his bidding. He never liked to leave his mark when a pretty woman could do it for him. Of course, he tended to kill them when he was through, but he enjoyed them while it lasted. She’s probably in love with him.”

“She isn’t sleeping with him.” Sean spat the words out. He didn’t believe that particular accusation for a moment. “He hasn’t touched her.”

Black now turned to him, giving Sean his full attention. “Really? And you know this, how?”

Sean forced his voice to remain even. It had been a mistake to react. Black might be the client right now, but he was still Agency. He could turn in a second. Ian would be pissed if he knew Sean had given Black information like that. “I’ve had Ms. Hawthorne under surveillance for several weeks. I think I would know if she had a lover.”

The only lover she had was him. He was sure of it. She hadn’t lied about that.

Black’s eyes narrowed, but then he turned back to the interrogation room. “Wright can be tricky. You just never know with him. So, this woman he killed today, you think he was after Hawthorne and got her friend instead?”

This he could talk about. “I believe so. Kayla Green was following a pattern set by Ms. Hawthorne. She was wearing Grace’s coat and carrying her umbrella. They’re roughly the same height. It was raining pretty hard. In the rain, I would have mistaken Kayla for Grace. Hell, I did. I followed her. He probably realizes his mistake by now. I have no doubt he’ll try again.”

A reptilian smile crossed Black’s face. “Yes, I believe he will, too.”

A cold feeling settled in Sean’s gut as he watched Black. The man seemed very content, and that wasn’t a good thing. Sean could tell he was already trying to figure out how to use Grace to his advantage.

“What did Ms. Hawthorne say when she learned her friend was dead?”

There was a moment of complete quiet before Adam spoke up. “We haven’t told her yet.” He paused. “We thought Sean should do it. He’s the best one to handle her.”

Sean glanced back at Adam. He seemed to want to talk, but knew that now was not the time. They didn’t air their dirty laundry around the clients. Sean nodded slowly and turned back to Black. “She’s a little fragile right now. I thought it best to get her through the interview before I brought that up.”

“Unless she already knew Wright was gunning for her and that was why she sent her friend out there.”

“Not a chance.” The words were out of his mouth before he could call them back.

Black studied him carefully for a moment. “It’s a simple thing, you know. What was this daily ritual she had her friend perform instead of her?”

“Coffee. She always makes a latte run at three in the afternoon.”

Black shrugged and waved a hand. “All she has to do is cry a little. Pretend she’s had some trauma in her life. Women are very susceptible to little dramas. She’s a widow. She could say she missed her husband and felt a little blue. A female will do a lot to make a friend feel better, even walk through the rain to get her a cup of coffee when, I’m sure, the break room probably has one.”

“I don’t believe it,” Liam said, speaking for the first time since the interview had begun.

Black stared at the Irishman. “Why? Are you an expert on the woman? I thought Mr. Taggart was the one assigned to…take care of her.”

Sean didn’t like the way he said it, but Liam was already responding. “After listening to her talk for days, I can definitely say I feel like an expert on the woman. She talks to herself. A lot. Nothing she’s said, no conversation she’s had over the phone or thing she’s murmured to herself while getting ready in the morning has given me a single hint that she’s capable of what you’re accusing her of. I’m going with Eve on this one. The lady is innocent. We should remove her from the line of fire and move on.”

Black was like a dog with a particularly juicy bone. “Perhaps she knows you’re listening.”

Liam’s eyes rolled. “Not a chance. If she had, she wouldn’t have sung the soundtrack to ‘Wicked’ while she was vacuuming. The girl can’t carry a note. She’s truly awful. Trust me, no one sings like that if they know they’re being listened to. Also, she talks to her breasts. She asks them why they won’t sit properly in her bra. Who does that?”