Page 29 of Convict’s Game (Skeleton Crew #1)

Convict’s jaw worked for a second before he forced a smile. “Guess we’ll find out who they were when we find out who I was.”

He kissed my shoulder, his gaze slinking down to my bare breasts. “But I’m certain that if you don’t run to the bathroom and lock me out, we are never leaving this bedroom today.”

“You don’t want to shower with me?”

“More than you can believe. But I also want to feed you and give your poor pussy a rest.”

I climbed up and danced away. “So magnanimous.”

“No clue what that word means.” His amusement chased me and stayed with me while I washed myself clean of everything we’d done to each other since striking our deal.

When I was finished, Convict took his turn.

I hovered at the bathroom door. “Hungry?”

“I could go for tea and something sweet if you’re making breakfast.”

Those were my words from our very first phone sex conversation. He remembered.

“I’ll order in. We’re too late for any breakfast places, but we can get a late lunch from a sandwich shop nearby. I can get a selection plus coffee and pastries?”

“Best wifey ever,” he called back.

I left him to it, carrying with me a warm little burst of happiness generated by his praise.

C ross-legged on my floor, we fuelled up on the stack of sandwiches and coffee that had been delivered to the door. Had to love city living for the amount of food choices available at the press of a button.

Convict pointed at me with his coffee cup. “Why aren’t you supposed to know about Kane? You said that last night. It’s been bothering me.”

I wrinkled my nose. “My grandparents only ever spoke about him once, and that was to explain why he had a vote. He was referred to as a distant relative and one I should steer clear of, but that only got me more interested.”

He gave me space to speak, his interest plain. It encouraged me.

“For one of my placements around the company, I was with the Human Resources team. They have a digital system for all the staff but also a physical filing system called the family vault. Apparently my grandfather liked to have certain paperwork as a hard copy. But it was locked and coded. One night, I worked late, and when the last person left, I tried every code I could think of to unlock that damn vault. His and my grandmother’s birth dates, when the company was formed, the numbers on the first cheque he ever received that was photographed and hanging on the wall.

I tried my date of birth. Their sons’. Nothing.

Then finally, I remembered my grandfather talking about his first date with my grandmother.

It was the last day in a very hot July, so it stuck in my head.

I had to guess the year, but at last, it worked.

In the cabinet was a folder for every part of the family who got a dividend payout.

Including Kane’s side. It gave me enough information on him that I could contact him. ”

“So you did?”

“I did. Secretly, though. It was pretty obvious that it wouldn’t please my grandparents.

We met up for a drink one evening. He’s the result of another short-term love affair our bio father had, but it’s his mother who’s on the company dividend list. She lives in Scotland, somewhere above Inverness. ”

“Not him? He doesn’t get a payout?”

“Nope.”

“So the reason he played backup with your scheme was for his ma’s sake?”

“I think so. Which makes him sound dangerously noble. I’m pretty sure he’d deny it if asked.”

Convict pondered that, throwing back two huge beef sandwiches before he spoke again. “Why isn’t he the heir? He looks older than you.”

“He is. Five years older. I assume our grandparents offered and he refused. He isn’t…

malleable, like I am. I would do anything to fit to their needs.

He’s like a brick. Solid and dependable but with no give.

When we met, I was enthralled at having a brother.

He was, not hostile exactly, but it took a long time for him to warm to me, and he refused point blank to discuss anything to do with the Marchant family.

I chipped away at him like an ice block until he began to return my texts.

I forced a relationship out of him. You know, after what happened yesterday, I should call him. Just to check in.”

“He seems like the type who can take care of himself.”

“True.”

I side-eyed my phone. I’d skimmed my copious messages and emails last night to check what had come in while I’d been gone.

My inboxes were overflowing. Relatives had been messaging me relentlessly after getting the same cold shoulder from my grandmother that I had.

They’d drawn a blank with the company’s board, and I was the next best bet.

I felt for them. With their income gone, they were in turmoil. I’d done all I could to help, but the only solution was to get the business up and running again, and I was breaking my back for that. I needed to send replies, but for one more day, they could wait.

I scanned the list of new messages. One caught my eye for the user name. I opened it.

Anonymous: Marchant was a despicable piece of shit. Enjoy Hell, Austin. You deserved to die.

It wasn’t the first hate mail my grandfather had received. In fact, I had a folder titled exactly that, and I filed the new message away so I didn’t have to look at it again.

It hurt, though. Austin Marchant was the greatest man who ever breathed. I missed him so much. How dare a stranger treat his memory like that?

Bothered, I wrote out a message to my grandmother, just like I’d done almost every day for the past month.

Mila: Are you available to meet today? I can come to you, wherever you are. I miss you. I need to know you’re okay. Please call me.

I hovered over the ‘Send’ icon, thumb tapping the edge of the screen. Maybe it was pointless. Maybe she’d deleted every message I’d written. I sent it anyway.

Convict touched my knee and claimed my attention back to him. “All okay?”

“Just work nonsense. I need to get out of this inbox.” I shut it down and tossed my phone.

“I meant to say I’ve heard nothing about Jacobs yet. Tyler has set up surveillance. Until he has news, I was thinking how I need to check out the places where I’m supposed to have lived. Want to come? I can be quick if you’d rather not. Maximum two hours apart.”

There was hope in his expression, his hair still damp and falling in his eyes. It took him back to the cute, boyish side I liked so much in him. My heart softened.

“I’ll come.”

Just like that, the devil returned. A flash of humour and need in his dark eyes. “You’ll come more if we stay here, but I’m down to see what we can manage in a quick outdoor fuck on our travels.”

The weird thing? I didn’t want him to be joking.