What Are You Afraid Of? (The Agency #2)(47)

Dangerous.

She drew in a slow, deep breath, as if trying to break free of the sensual spell that was weaving around them.

“Finish your theory,” she commanded.

He suppressed a smile. His body was tense with anticipation, but he made no effort to press his advantage. He wasn’t sure when it’d happened, but he’d already decided that Carmen was going to be a part of his life for the foreseeable future.

They had all the time in the world to explore the heat that sizzled between them.

“My theory is that you haven’t been in a position where you possessed the support or finances to battle against a tribe of expensive lawyers.”

She slowly nodded. “Not until my book hit the best-seller list.”

“Exactly. Now you have money, plus connections to the press that offer you leverage if Lawrence tried to intimidate you,” he continued. “It wouldn’t be nearly as easy to turn you away if you started snooping into the past.”

She took a long time to process his words, the pain that he’d been expecting slowly spreading across her pale features. Griff’s fingers brushed over her cheek, his heart twisting with regret.

Then, with the courage that had allowed her to endure the death of her parents to become a strong, successful woman, she squared her shoulders.

“Even if he’s stolen millions from me, that wouldn’t turn him into a psychopath.”

“He wouldn’t have to be a psychopath. Not if the pictures were faked,” he reminded her.

“What would be the point?”

He hesitated, not wanting to hurt her further. “Being stalked by a lunatic would keep you distracted.”

She stiffened, her eyes narrowing. Her instinctive ability to read people was clearly warning her that he wasn’t being fully honest.

“That’s not why you think Lawrence did it.”

“No.” He shrugged, silently conceding she wouldn’t stop digging until he revealed what was troubling him. No wonder she became a journalist. “I think it’s for his protection.”

She studied him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I think your uncle wanted to make sure that if you ever decided to show up and start asking uncomfortable questions he would be able to get rid of you.”

She went perfectly still, as if she’d been frozen into place. A minute ticked past. Then another. Griff ’s hand traced the curve of her neck, feeling the moment that she swallowed her horror and forced herself to accept the danger she was facing.

“You mean that he might try to kill me?”

“Yes,” he said bluntly. “It would no doubt be a last resort, but your uncle strikes me as a man who plans ahead. In the event he had to dispose of you, he’d make sure it couldn’t be traced back to him.”

He heard her breath catch, but she grimly refused to flinch. Instead, she considered his hypothesis.

“With pictures of supposedly dead women?”

“If something happened to you . . .” He was forced to halt and clear the lump from his throat. Silently he reminded himself that no one was going to be allowed to hurt Carmen. Not on his watch. “The first thing the cops would suspect would be a jealous lover.”

“I don’t have a lover.”

His fingers lightly touched her lips. “Not yet.”

“Griff,” she breathed.

With an effort, he forced himself to concentrate. This was too important for him to be distracted.

“Once that was ruled out, the cops would look to see who would benefit from your death.”

“Lawrence,” she said.

“That would be my guess,” he agreed. “It wouldn’t take long for the cops to learn that you are related to the wealthy Jacobs family. The last thing your uncle would want is a bunch of detectives rummaging around his finances and asking inconvenient questions. He would need to make sure they were too occupied to consider the money angle.”

She nodded, her quick mind capable of leaping to his inevitable conclusion.

“So, if I turned up dead, everyone would assume I was killed by the psycho who was sending me pictures,” she said. “The man I am publicly chasing.”

He lowered his hand, grabbing her fingers in a tight grip. “It would be a cunning plan.”

“Cunning?”

He gave her fingers a squeeze. “You know what I mean.”

She started to nod, only to stiffen as if she was struck by a sudden thought.

“What about the person who cut me in Kansas City?” she demanded, her hand lifting to touch her upper arm. “I would have known if it was Lawrence.”

He arched a brow. “Are you positive?”

“I . . .” She released a harsh breath. “No, I can’t be sure.”

“There’s also your cousins,” Griff added, his voice tight with anger at the reminder she’d been injured. “Or he could have hired someone in the Kansas City area to drive to the hotel and wait for you. And it would have been easy to send the flowers. Except he didn’t realize that you no longer went by Carrie.”

“That would explain Lawrence’s surprise at seeing me.” Her expression hardened as she accepted there was a possibility that her only remaining family wanted her dead. “If he’s monitoring me, he would think I was flying to Baltimore.”