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How did Melanie know he was at Fairchild’s house? He never told her who he worked for. Never mentioned where he was.

Luke stared at the snow for a long moment, his pulse steadying, his thoughts sharpening like a blade. Then his fist slammed down on the table, the force rattling the dishes. Someone was feeding her information, someone who knew too much.

And if she knew where he was, did she know why?

The bomb, Noah and Ruth…none of it was coincidence.

Whoever was pulling the strings had just made their first mistake.

* * *

Maxim Fairchild paced his office,frustration pouring off him like smoke from a fire. The snowstorm was bad enough, freezing his operations in place and trapping his shipments. But the bomb at Brayburn’s Steakhouse had turned everything on its head.

His phone buzzed on the desk. He ignored it, grinding his teeth as he replayed the chain of events. The two FBI agents he’d bought off hadn’t succeeded with their job after bringing Noah Kandor in for questioning.

He didn’t expect that Ethan Hayes, head of the FBI’s resident agency, would have half a clue and stop the investigation cold. Hell, South Dakota wasn’t known for top-of-the-line FBI talent. A little digging, and he found out Hayes had turned down a spot in the New York office. The diamond of them all. That wasn’t expected either. What also wasn’t expected was Noah’s partner dragging in Ruth Everhart as his lawyer.

Ruth Everhart. Kandor’s girlfriend.

She worked for Dylan Grant, one of the sharpest defense attorneys in the city. Fairchild had leverage over him. Did she know what was buried in Hilton’s file?

Fairchild picked up his phone and dialed.

Dylan Grant answered on the first ring, his voice clipped. “Fairchild. What’s wrong?”

Fairchild didn’t waste time. “Ruth Everhart. Did she know what was in Hilton’s files?”

The pause on the other end was too long for Fairchild’s liking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Grant said tightly.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Dylan,” Fairchild snapped. “She is your employee. She is Kandor’s lawyer. And now she’s in the hospital because of a goddamn bomb. Did she know what was in those files?”

Grant’s voice sharpened. “Watch your tone. I heard about the bombing like everyone else—on the news. Her mother’s boyfriend called the office to tell us about Ruth’s condition. I was going to call her mother to check on her today. That’s all I know. She went to Ellison with the case, not me or Matt.”

“Why did she choose Ellison?”

“I don’t know,” Grant reiterated.

Fairchild’s grip on the phone tightened. “You expect me to believe she walked into that mess without a clue? She’s a rookie, Dylan.”

Grant’s frustration boiled over. “What are you accusing me of? I didn’t send her to Ellison. You think I wanted this? I tried to stop her. But she jumped the line, and Blake took her in. Apparently, he knew her dead dad. He said if the case made it anywhere, he’d be her co-counsel. Ruth is one of the best junior attorneys we have—hell, she is one of the best people I know!”

Fairchild’s voice dropped, icy and lethal. “If Ruth was the target, I want to know why. If the bomb was meant for Kandor, then whoever planted it knows what’s in Hilton’s files. So, which is it, Dylan?”

Grant exhaled sharply, the sound laced with fear. “I don’t know. Okay? I don’t know what she knew or how deep she was. She didn’t tell me. I haven’t even had time to process that she’s in critical condition, and you’re accusing me of—what? Helping her? Betraying her? I didn’t plant the goddamn bomb, Fairchild!”

Fairchild paced the room, his free hand running through his hair. “You’d better hope you’re telling the truth, Dylan. Because if I find out Ruth knew something you didn’t tell me, or worse, if this was about the files, then we’ve got a bigger problem. A much bigger problem.”

Grant’s voice cracked. “You think I’d let that happen? Don’t you dare put this on me!”

Fairchild’s voice was a low growl. “Then find out who did it. Because when I find out, you’d better pray you’re not in my way.”

The line went dead.

Fairchild set the phone down, his thoughts racing. Whoever planted the bomb either knew what was in Hilton’s files or had a reason to kill Ruth. Either way, Fairchild needed answers and fast.

The storm outside might have slowed the world to a crawl, but inside Fairchild’s mind, the pieces of this deadly puzzle were moving faster than ever.

Thirty-One