Page 16 of Our Radiant Embers

“He is. He also claimed to have no idea about J. Brown.” I shrugged at my dad. “He said he’d look into it.”

Dad’s forehead creased in thought. “Did he?”

Another sip. “Yeah.”

“Well.” For a moment, Dad considered me before he nodded. “I guess we’ll see.”

“I guess we will,” I agreed and took another sip.

Maybe Adam would follow through, yeah. But I sincerely doubted it.

4

ADAM

“Can you take off your shoes?” Liam’s flat tone implied that he expected me to protest. While true that I didn’t enter a lot of homes with a shoe cupboard in the entryway, conforming to his preconceived notions was not on my agenda today.

“With pleasure.” I tossed him a cheerful smile, set my bag down, and kneeled to unlace my trainers. It also gave me a chance to get my bearings.

I’d parked just inside the gate that encircled the house, located on a road not far off the North Circular that was lined with aggressively average single-family homes. It was a popular neighbourhood with the magical middle class—those who were equipped with enough power that it mattered but not enough to join the big leagues. Five years ago, the Morgans wouldn’t have been able to afford even this: a medium-sized plot of land occupied by a house from the seventies with low ceilings, the entrance area cluttered with jackets and shoes. A corridor lay straight ahead while a closed door to my left seemed to lead to the attached workshop I’d spotted from outside. Some of the floor tiles showed cracks.

I returned my attention to Liam—and realised that our positions put my face level with his crotch. Which…God, I still remembered the warm, earthy scent of his arousal, how careful he’d been until he noticed that I could take it. That I wanted to.

Not the time to pitch a tent.

I rose fluidly and met Liam’s eyes. No thirsty thoughts here, move along. “I owe you an apology.”

Surprise flashed across his face. “An apology?”

“You were right.”

“I…was.” He shifted his stance, planting his feet at hip width. “Generally, yes. I am. But what are we talking about specifically?”

“J. Brown. They have been screwing workers over.”

Liam dropped his arms by his side, full focus on me now. “You actually looked into it?”

I enjoyed knocking him a tad off-balance. No, it wasn’t why I’d done it—but at least discovering a regular contractor’s distasteful conduct came with a side of challenging Liam’s perception of me. I intended to do a fair bit of that today. Whatever it took to get this moving.

“I sent someone, like you suggested.” In fact, I’d asked Cassandra to send someone, right after Liam had left. The Hartleys had their fingers in many different honeypots in the city, and favours for the political elite were part of their MO. Sometimes, that meant organising a skilled undercover detective.

Apparently, this particular case had required no skill—the labour rights violations had been blatant. I’d received her confirmation just before arriving here.

Liam took a moment to digest it, the silence between us offset by pop music that filtered in from the workshop, its heavy bass line thrumming through the wall. “So,” he said then. “What are you going to do about it?”

“My father and aunt are in charge of our network of contractors. I’ll take it up with them.”

He scrutinised me for a heavy moment before he nodded, short and brisk. “Let me know how it goes.”

“Sure.” Nice and collaborative, that was me. Since yesterday’s brute stubbornness approach hadn’t worked, I’d try a different angle today. Oh, I would not charm him into liking me—if sucking him off a year ago hadn’t done the trick, it would take more than a few sweet words and me dressing down in jeans to change his mind. But if I could circumvent his knee-jerk urge to protest anything I said? We might actually make some progress.

He waved for me to follow him. Wordlessly, we moved along the corridor and into a reasonably sized kitchen that came with a table and chairs. Daylight fell through a window, a glass door next to it leading out into a backyard, the grass dotted with bright spring flowers. To my uneducated eye, the white cupboards and appliances looked dated, but I was hardly an expert on these matters. A rich, smoky aroma hung in the air, mingled with something sweeter.

“Do I smell ham?” I asked, and Liam shot me a curious glance.

“Yeah. I made pea and ham soup for lunch.”

“You cook?”

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