Page 30

D ressed in black pants, a white button-down and a blazer to hide his shoulder holster and gun, Grayson stood outside the black Mercedes sedan the next morning, waiting for Pressley to appear. He’d had a text from Pressley’s secretary earlier that the Mercedes was Pressley’s choice today. The other two cars were a black BMW XM and a black Range Rover. None of Grayson’s dealerships sold Range Rovers, and he was hoping that would be the car of choice. He’d love to drive one.

When Pressley appeared, Grayson opened the back door. “Good morning, sir.” Pressley ignored him as he slid into the car. “Rude,” Grayson muttered after he closed the door.

As soon as they were on the way to the mayor’s office, Pressley got on the phone. “Hey, babe. Something came up. I’m not going to make it to lunch.” He listened, then, “I know. I was looking forward to eating…you.” He chuckled. “Let’s make it dinner instead. I’ll be real hungry by then if you get my drift.” Another chuckle.

Grayson inwardly rolled his eyes. Pressley sure thought he was clever with his innuendos. They arrived at town hall, where the mayor’s office was located, and Grayson parked in a space close to the entrance.

Pressley waited for him to exit the car and open the back door. “Be here when I get back.”

“Yes, sir.” Like he’d go for a joyride or something.

Pressley’s meeting lasted an hour, and their next stop turned out to be the police station. Again, Grayson was ordered to be here when Pressley returned. He was inside for twenty minutes, and from the station, they went to the tax office.

On arriving there, Pressley made a call. “Come outside.”

A few minutes later a man Grayson recognized from photos he’d obtained as Dale Jenkins—who he suspected had been involved in stealing Jankowski’s and Pickens’s homes—came out.

“Wait for me outside,” Pressley said.

“Yes, sir.” He got out as Jenkins slid into the back with Pressley. He wanted to kick himself for not bugging the car. He’d remedy that tomorrow. The two men talked for ten minutes, then Jenkins exited the car and walked past Grayson without looking at him. Jenkins’s expression was sour. Had he been ordered to steal someone else’s home?

Grayson returned to the car, and Pressley directed him to go back home. When they arrived, he said, “Go to the kitchen and tell Anders to make you a sandwich. I won’t need you again until five.”

Grayson had no idea who Anders was, but he was all for getting the chance to talk to members of Pressley’s household. Turned out Anders was the chef, a good one Grayson decided after he was seated at the biggest kitchen island he’d ever seen and eating a sub and homemade chips.

“Best meatball sub I’ve ever had,” he said. Once he’d introduced himself as Benny’s cousin and Pressley’s temporary driver, Anders had treated him like an old friend. Grayson estimated him to be in his late sixties, and best of all, he liked to talk.

“My Italian mama, God rest her soul, taught me how to make the world’s best meatballs. Mr. Pressley dines out a lot, and when he does eat in, he likes fancy food. I make the meatballs for the boy. He loves them.”

“The boy?” Gray said, letting Anders believe he didn’t know who Tyler was.

“Mr. Pressley’s son. It’s not good that his mama isn’t here. A boy needs his mama.”

“How old is he?”

“Five.”

“A five-year-old definitely needs his mother. Where is she?”

Anders took Grayson’s empty plate. “She—” He shook his head. “It’s not our business, and I talk too much.”

“How long have you worked for Mr. Pressley?” He looked around the kitchen. “Seems like a great place to work.”

“Three years, and it’s a fine kitchen.”

But do you like cooking for Pressley, and what secrets do you know? He wouldn’t push for more now. Hopefully, Anders would get talkative again over the next few days.

“Anders!” Tyler ran into the kitchen. “I’m hungry.”

“Good, because I have your lunch ready for you, young Mr. Pressley. Climb up on that stool.” Anders placed a plate with two meatballs, a slice of buttered bread and apple wedges in front of Tyler.

“Oh, boy,” Tyler said, clapping his hands. “Did you know this is my favorite lunch?”

Anders smiled. “I sure did.”

“Did you have meatballs, too?” Tyler asked, looking at Grayson with his mother’s sea blue eyes.

“Sure did. They were my favorite lunch, too.”

“I forgot your name.”

“Richie.”

“Oh, I remember you said that.” He turned his attention to his lunch and scarfed down one meatball. “Will you play with me after I finish my lunch, Richie?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Anders said. “You know better.”

Tyler let out a big sigh. “But Daddy’s not here now.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s a bad habit to have, and if you do it now, you’ll forget and do it in front of your father.”

There was kindness in Anders’s voice when speaking to Tyler. He was trying to help the boy stay out of trouble.

“Daddy gets mad if I talk with food in my mouth.” Tyler lifted those big blue eyes to Grayson. “He takes my dinner away and makes me go to bed hungry.”

Grayson exchanged a glance with Anders. The boy was five years old, for God’s sake. Teaching him good manners was one thing, but sending him to bed hungry? Wrong on so many levels. Grayson didn’t doubt there were even more serious ways Pressley was failing as a father. Like hiring the woman who walked into the kitchen as Tyler’s nanny.

Ava’s eyes widened and a smile appeared when she saw Grayson. “Well, hello, Benny’s cousin.”

Grayson dipped his chin in reply. He didn’t want to be anywhere near the woman, but maybe he could learn something if he stayed.

She moved next to him. “You going to tell me your name?”

“His name’s Richie,” Tyler said.

Without sparing a glance the boy’s way, she said, “I wasn’t talking to you.”

Anders removed a plate that appeared to hold a salad from the refrigerator, carrying it and a glass of water with a lemon to a small table. “Ava, your lunch.”

There was no warmth in his voice as there had been for Tyler. Another of Pressley’s employees that Grayson decided he liked.

“I think I’ll have my lunch at the counter today. Keep Richie company.” She put her hand on Tyler’s arm. “Go take your nap.”

“But I haven’t—”

“Don’t talk back to me, Tyler Pressley. Do as I say if you don’t want me to tell your father.”

Was tattling to his father a constant threat she used on the boy? Grayson wanted to throttle her.

“He hasn’t had his cookies yet,” Anders said.

Ava shrugged. “He can take them to his room.”

The air was tense between Anders and Ava, and Anders opened his mouth, then closed it. He turned his back on her, got a small baggie and put four cookies in it.

“I get four?” Tyler said when Anders gave him the cookies.

Anders smiled. “It’s a special day.”

“Now go,” Ava said irritably.

Grayson waited until Tyler turned the corner and was out of sight before saying, “Gonna hit the restroom. I’ll be right back.” He caught up with the boy. “Tyler.”

Tyler’s eyes lit up. “Are you coming to play with me?”

“I wish I could.” He squatted. “Maybe another day I can. I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re a smart and interesting boy. If you want, I’d like us to be friends.”

“Really?”

Grayson nodded.

“I don’t have any friends. You can be my first.”

Did he not go to preschool where he would meet children his age? “I’d be honored to be your first friend.”

“My mommy used to be my friend, but Daddy said she left because she doesn’t love us anymore. Why doesn’t she love me? I’d be a good boy if she came back.”

He hated Pressley more with each new revelation from both Harlow and her son. “You know what? I don’t believe that for a minute. I think your mommy loves you very much, and I promise you, it’s not your fault she’s not here.”

“Do you know my mommy?”

“No, but if I ever see her, I’ll tell her how much you miss her.” He hated lying to this lonely child with the sad eyes. “You better go on up to your room so you don’t get in trouble.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“You sure can.”

He leaned close to Grayson. “I don’t like Ava,” he whispered. “She’s mean to me.”

What the hell to say to that? He couldn’t risk agreeing and having Tyler repeat that, but he couldn’t not say something. “Can you keep a secret, too?”

Tyler nodded.

“You have to promise not to tell anyone, not even your father.”

“Okay.”

He was taking a big risk, but his gut said Tyler could keep secrets, and he had to give the boy something to believe in. “I think you’re going to see your mommy again real soon, but it’s really important that stays our secret.”

“When?”

“I can’t tell you exactly when, just know right here in your heart—” he tapped Tyler’s chest “—that she loves you and you’ll see her again.”

“I love her, too.”

“She knows that, my little man. Now, go on before you get in trouble.”

“Okay.”

Grayson returned to the kitchen with the hope that he’d given Tyler something to hold on to. This was a conversa tion he wouldn’t tell Harlow about because it would break her heart to know that her son thought she had left because she didn’t love him.

Ava was on the barstool that Tyler had been sitting on, and when he retook his seat, she gave him a sultry smile. “You don’t look like a Richie.”

“What do I look like?”

She shifted to face him, and her gaze traveled over him. “Like a Maverick…or maybe Cruz. No, Ryker. Yeah, Richie just doesn’t do it for me, so I’m going to call you Ryker. That’s close enough to Richie.”

The woman was ridiculous. Standing off to the side, out of her line of sight, Anders rolled his eyes. Grayson wanted to roll his, too. “That’s an interesting name, but it’s not mine.”

“Consider it your nickname. Everyone has one of those.”

“Is that so? What’s yours?”

“Why don’t you give me one?”

He made a show of checking her out. “I think I’ll call you Trouble.”

Anders snorted.

There was nothing to be learned here, at least not today, and he’d had enough of Miss Trouble. “Thanks for lunch, Anders. It was good.”

“You’re not leaving already?” she said…pouted.

“Things to do, places to go.” Fresh air to breathe. Why was it whenever he was in this house, he felt like he was breathing toxic fumes?