Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 132834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
After a moment, he sat up taller, lifting his chin, meeting Griffen’s eyes and then my own. “In retrospect,” he said, “it was a regrettable decision. I was relieved when I learned you had escaped and made your way back to the States. And when you didn’t come home, Dad and I felt it was better to keep things simple.”
“So you told everyone that bullshit story about him joining the army?” Griffen asked. “You couldn’t even be creative. You just copied what I did.”
I was reminded that Griffen had his own reasons to hate Ford, his own anger probably as calcified as my own, and no less real.
Ford didn’t react to his taunt. “It worked. People figured Finn was following in your footsteps. And you know, there are so many Sawyers around town, nobody missed one or two.”
Griffen was practically vibrating with rage. I watched him, waiting for the explosion. Instead, he relaxed by increments, maybe realizing the futility of trying to get a better response out of Ford.
“We went over the contracts in the briefcase. Found your notes. We know you hid the briefcase in the attic,” Griffen said. “What do you know about Yawhood Properties? We’ve seen it a few times since I took over, but we can’t trace it.”
Ford shook his head. “I don’t know. If you saw the contracts, you saw my notes. Yawhood was a dead end everywhere I looked. It doesn’t have anything to do with why Dad was killed.”
“How do you know?” Griffen asked.
“I’m sorry for the way things worked out,” Ford said, his tone suggesting that he was being very generous in acknowledging mistakes had been made. I didn’t even know if he was referring to my kidnapping or his getting Griffen exiled. I wasn’t sure it mattered. Either way, it was bullshit.
Ford’s eyes slid back to Griffen. “This is all ancient history. It doesn’t have anything to do with current events.”
Griffen shook his head slowly. “I’m not buying that. If it’s not relevant, then why hide the briefcase?”
Ford let out a breath, bracing his wrists on the edge of the table, his handcuffs rattling against the hard surface. “I was grasping at straws, gathering anything I could find. I didn’t know it was useless until I looked into things. Just leave it alone.”
“What were you up to?” Griffen asked, his head tilted to the side, as if he were thinking, rearranging puzzle pieces in his mind until he got them to fit. Ford didn’t answer. “Were you going to try to force Dad out like he forced out Grandpa?”
Ford jerked, a tiny movement I couldn’t decipher. Guilt? Surprise? Our father had forced his own father out of the business before I was born. Our grandfather had died less than a decade later, but all accounts indicated that at his death, he was a shadow of the man he’d been.
Ford didn’t answer except to say, “Leave it alone.”
Griffen sat back, a musing expression washing over his face. “If it doesn’t have anything to do with anything, then you won’t mind if we do a little digging.”
Ford shrugged, the movement loose but his jaw tight. “If you want to waste your time, fine, but I wouldn’t think it’s worth the risk. Isn’t Hope about to deliver your heir? I’d think you’d want to do anything you could to keep your family safe.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Griffen shot back, his eyes blazing again. Even I knew Ford had pressed the wrong button. I figured he meant to rile Griffen, to get under his skin a little. But Ford couldn’t have known how Griffen would react to a threat to Hope.
Leaning forward, menace radiating off him, Griffen repeated slowly, “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Is it the baby?” Ford asked, his head cocked to the side, curiosity lighting his eyes. “Is it the thought of a mini you running around? Or is it Hope? Are you in love with Hope Daniels? That’s fucking hysterical. Her little crush got you exiled, and now you’re in love with her.”
“Shut the fuck up about my wife,” Griffen growled. “She’s Hope Sawyer now, and you’re the one who got me exiled. Now tell me what you mean. What risk?”
Chapter Thirty-Two
FINN
“Don’t be an idiot,” Ford said, the curiosity and amusement draining away until he just looked tired. “Have you all decided that I’m the one who shot Dad?”
“No,” Griffen said. “You’re an asshole, but no one thinks you killed Dad.”
“Then do you know who did it?” The ghost of a smile crossed Ford’s face. “If you do, I’d love it if you could pass the info along to the DA. The accommodations here leave a lot to be desired.”
“You know full well we have no leads,” Griffen said.
“Cole thinks Vanessa knew,” Ford said. Vanessa Sawyer, originally Griffen’s fiancée, then Ford’s wife, had been found dead in the gardens of the Inn, shot in the forehead just like Dad. Hawk’s security team made the Manor feel so safe, I forgot—mostly—there was an unknown murderer out there.