Page 87 of Girl Anonymous

“Why not ask Nate?” To Maarja, that seemed like the obvious answer.

“Until he acknowledges the relationship, I can’t,” Dante replied.

She placed the ice bag on her forehead.

“It’s a guy thing,” Dante explained. “I only know because Fedelma told me my father deliberately bred a male to be the bodyguard to care for the legitimate heir—me—he would have with the wife he had already picked out—Mère.”

“That is so awful.” Maarja’s heart softened toward the impassive Nate.

“Where’shis mother? She’s a woman who escaped Benoit?” Connor obviously didn’t believe that.

Dante confirmed what Connor’s tone suggested. “No concubine ever escaped him. She cooperated, she’s in hiding, or she’s dead. Somehow. Probably not an accident.”

“None of that removes Nate from the suspect list,” Owen pointed out.

Maarja lifted her head. “Dante, is that why your mother didn’t like Nate? Because he, um, was the unofficial older heir?”

“Mère didn’t like him because he never warmed to her. Warmth is not in his job description. In general, Nate’s not a cashmere sweater.”

Maarja grinned at the description of the big, grim man.

“Was Aunt Raine a good judge of character?” Owen asked.

“She married my father.” Dante obviously considered that a reason for doubt.

“Blackmail, though, right?” Maarja asked. “That’s what Fedelma told me.”

Dante looked at Maarja as if he’d never heard such a thing. “She said that? No. Mère was dedicated to keeping him happy.”

“Yes, because he hurt her if he was unhappy. You said it, Dante! You said—”

“I know what I said.” Dante drank his coffee with a concentration that said he needed it. “But even after he was dead, she refused to speak ill of him.”

“To you. To his son,” Maarja said sensibly. “She didn’t want to besmirch his memory.”

“Hard to do. He smirched it enough all on his own.” Yet Dante seemed willing to consider that explanation.

“Anybody else?” Maarja looked around the table.

“Only everyone else in the family. Everyone who profits from our activities.” Connor told the truth, but clearly he didn’t like it.

“Someone in the inner circle planned the elevator explosion. That narrows it down considerably. Is there anyone in the family who’s a ballistics expert?”

Heads shook.

“We hire that done,” Dante said.

“The first explosion killed Mrs. Arundel. The second explosion was supposed to kill us.” Maarja took that with ill grace.

“Someone doesn’t have the imagination to come up with a variety of murder weapons.” Connor had the guts to sound amused.

“Or we’re dealing with a copycat,” Dante said seriously.

Maarja used her fingers, cold from the ice bag, to massage her forehead. “Do we have a front-runner in the way of suspects?” She wanted answers.

“Andere,” Dante said.

“Nate,” Owen said.

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