Page 51 of Brushed By Moonlight

“Who’s unethical — us or the man who hires us?” Henrik asked.

“Both!” I blurted without thinking.

“Bingo,” Bene pointed at me.

And, yikes. He meant my godfather.

“But… But…”

Bene patted my arm. “I’m sure he’s a very nice guy…”

Henrik snarled, and Roux shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“…to you, at least,” Bene continued with a major qualifier.

“Why would Gordon need mercenaries?” I demanded. “He runs an import-export business—” I stopped short, then broke into a long, drawn-out, “Ohhh.”

Bene handed me a macaron.

I’d never asked Gordon much about the business. All I knew was that he focused on rare cars and other luxury goods.

I winced, becauseluxury goodscould encompass all sorts of things. And, huh. I’d always wondered why, for all Gordon’s unwavering support, he hadn’t offered me any of the internships he mentioned from time to time. He hadn’t asked my sister or cousin either, though he’d supported us in every other way.

I gulped and clutched for straws. “Gordon has always been kind and generous. He wouldn’t get me involved in anything bad.”

Marius pointed toward the garden. “He has now.”

“Strange that he chose to call at precisely this moment,” Roux added quietly.

“Gordon often calls to check in!” I insisted.

“At this hour?” Roux pointed to the clock.

“No, but…” I ran out of steam there, and not even the macaron Bene pushed toward me helped.

The men looked around, daring one another to speak up.

What? I wanted to demand. What weren’t they telling me?

“Here’s the thing,” Bene finally spoke — gently, like he was breaking bad news to a child. Something along the lines of,the tooth fairy doesn’t exist.“Gordon sounded like he was expecting trouble. Like he was surprised you had nothing to report.”

True, but why? And why had the guys been so adamant that I not divulge the truth?

“If he knew about an intruder, he would have warned me. Right?” I declared.

Bene scratched his temple. Marius looked out the window.

“He would have told me,” I insisted, growing louder.

“Would he?” Roux asked gently.

I gaped. “Whywouldn’the?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Roux admitted, reaching for another macaron.

I snatched the tin away. My macarons, my house, my godfather. I would not let these men malign any of them.

“I can’t believe you suspect him of…of…” I stalled out there. “Of what?” I asked, genuinely perplexed.