What Are You Afraid Of? (The Agency #2)(108)

Lawrence clenched and unclenched his hands, the sweat starting to drip from his forehead.

“It was a moment of madness,” he finally burst out. “I swear I rented the SUV and drove to the farm just to see if Carrie was there.”

Griff folded his arms over his chest. “Why?”

“When you walked out before we could have Christmas dinner, I feared that you must have discovered something about the . . .” Lawrence’s words trailed away.

Griff studied him with a frown before he realized that the older man didn’t want to confess what was bothering him until he was sure that Griff already knew the full extent of his treachery.

“About the insurance policy you stole from your own niece?”

Lawrence flinched. Griff was guessing his unease was more from embarrassment at getting caught than any genuine sense of guilt.

“When I saw you leaving the farm, I decided to follow you.”

“So you could kill us?”

“No.” Lawrence held up a hand, trying to convince Griff of his sincerity. “I was in a panic. I wanted to see where you were going. I had a crazy idea that I could stop you from talking to the cops if I just explained about the money.”

Griff snorted with disbelief. He still remembered his horror as he watched the SUV hurtling toward them, knowing that Carmen might die if they went over the edge.

“You weren’t trying to talk to us,” he said in a voice that revealed his revulsion toward the older man. “You were trying to shove us into an icy river.”

Lawrence hunched his shoulders. “I told you. That was nothing more than a mad impulse. I saw you stopped in front of the bridge and my foot just hit the gas pedal. I didn’t even realize what I was doing until I felt the impact.”

Griff shook his head. There was no way he was going to let the man act as if attempted homicide was nothing more than a silly prank.

“A mad impulse is buying a jet ski,” he said in icy tones. “Or dying your hair purple. It isn’t trying to knock off members of your own family.”

Lawrence lowered his gaze, studying the tips of his expensive Italian leather shoes.

“I was going to lose everything.”

Griff rolled his eyes. Obviously, people who were born with a silver spoon in their mouths had different morals than poor schmucks like him.

“The Jacobs family is quite a work of art,” he breathed.

“Don’t forget that Carrie is a Jacobs,” Lawrence ridiculously reminded him.

“Not for long,” he said.

Carmen might not have formally agreed to marry him, but Griff had no doubt that it was going to happen. Although he wasn’t the most handsome or charming man in the world, he did possess the sort of grim determination that meant he would never give up until he’d achieved his goal. That’s how he’d graduated top of his class despite the loss of his mother and the awkward years beneath his father’s roof. And how he’d convinced Rylan to go into business with him.

As far as he was concerned, having Carmen as his wife was as inevitable as the sun rising in the east.

“Why are you here?” Lawrence abruptly demanded.

“I want the papers you stole from the attic.”

There was only the slightest hesitation before Lawrence was stiffly moving across the room, looking like he had something stuck up his ass. He halted at the large mahogany desk that had been hand-carved and polished until it glowed in the sunlight that angled through the tall windows.

He pulled open the middle drawer to extract a key. Then crouching down, he used the key to open the bottom drawer.

Moving quickly, Griff was next to the desk, his hand on the gun he had holstered beneath the jacket. He’d learned never to underestimate the depths of evil the Jacobs men were willing to sink to.

Including shooting him in the middle of the elegant office.

But when Lawrence straightened, he was clutching a thick envelope in his hand.

“This is the original insurance policy.”

Griff reached to take the envelope, and tucked it in his pocket. He’d hand it to his lawyer when he returned to California.

Right now he was more interested in what Lawrence hadn’t given him.

“What else?” he demanded, holding out his phone when Lawrence’s lips parted in protest. “Unless you want to get the cops involved, don’t piss me off.”

An ugly anger darkened the older man’s pale eyes. He was used to people who jumped to obey his every command. He didn’t like having to be the one taking orders.

Still, he wasn’t stupid. He knew that if Griff decided to press the issue he might very well end up in jail. If nothing else, his place in the business world would be over.

Corporate America might be cutthroat, but you weren’t supposed to get caught trying to kill off your enemies.

With a grudging expression, he bent over and dug through the bottom drawer. At last he pulled out a folded piece of paper and shoved it toward Griff.

“Here.”

Griff took the paper, unfolded it, and studied the letter that was signed at the bottom by Lawrence and a Joseph Conway, Carmen’s grandfather.

“What is this?” he demanded.

“I was named as legal guardian for Carrie,” Lawrence admitted, his expression as stiff as his voice. “This is a document that hands over that guardianship to Carrie’s grandparents.”