Page 4 of Dangerous Secret

The next afternoon, Grayson was in The Phoenix Three office by himself. Cooper was taking a few days to get settled in the apartment he’d rented, and Liam was tracking down a fifteen-year-old runaway.

He glanced out the window, and as it always did when taking in the view, his gaze settled on the ocean, visible over the rooftops. Back when he’d told his father their plans, as expected, his dad had been disappointed that his son wasn’t coming to work at the dealerships, but that hadn’t stopped Daniel Montana from giving his support. Cooper had thought Atlanta would be the best place to base The Phoenix Three, especially since it was close to a major airport. Liam hadn’t cared where they settled on as longas it wasn’t in Kansas and anywhere near the father who’d disowned him.

Grayson’s father, however, meant to keep his son close and had made them an offer they couldn’t refuse. He’d buy a building in Myrtle Beach and charge them a hundred a month. And there was a perfectly good airport in Myrtle Beach.

The ocean was Grayson’s happy place, and he’d been relieved when both his partners agreed to base their company in Myrtle Beach. His father had bought a building three blocks from the beach. The Phoenix Three offices were on the top floor, giving Grayson a view of his beloved ocean. The bottom three floors were rented out to other businesses.

They owned the building now thanks to his father. Grayson had inherited his father’s dealerships, and in his will, Daniel Montana had gifted the building equally to the three of them. Grayson was happy that his father had gotten to know Cooper and Liam, had come to love his two best friends. Damn, he missed his dad.

He walked to the window and stared out. Since he was a year old, it had just been him and his dad. The loss of his father was still fresh, and his throat closed and his eyes burned as he lifted his gaze to the sky. “Hey, old man. You better be happy up there. I’m counting on you getting reprimanded by God for flirting with the pretty angels.”

A soft bell sounded, indicating that someone had pushed the elevator button for the fourth floor. The early warning that someone was coming up to their floor was one of the first security measures they’d installed.

His appointment was on her way up. Over the phone, Harlow Pressley had sounded meek as a mouse with her soft voice that he’d had to strain to hear as she reluctantly answered his preliminary questions. He’d tried to form apicture of her, but all he could see in his mind was…well, a little brown mouse trying to hide in the shadows. She’d sounded desperate, though. Something to do with her son, and he’d agreed to see her.

They hadn’t hired a receptionist yet, so he walked out to the lobby to meet her. A minute later, the elevator door opened, and she froze at seeing him. He hadn’t meant to scare her. Realizing the door was closing, he put his hand out to stop it.

“Miss Pressley?” She’d said she needed help with her son but had refused to say over the phone what that help was, and she’d only said her name was Harlow Pressley. He didn’t know if she was married or single, so he went with the Miss.

She nodded.

“I’m Grayson Montana.” Along with softening his voice, he smiled, hoping it would put her at ease. “You’re right on time.” He stepped back to give her plenty of room to walk past without touching him.

As for his image of a shy mouse, he’d nailed it. She scurried by him, then seemingly at a loss as to where to go, she stilled. Her back was to him, and his gaze took in her hair in a tight bun, the brown print dress that looked at least a size too large that covered her from her neck to an inch below her knees, the beige knit sweater and the brown soft-soled shoes. From the brief glimpse he’d had of her face, he guessed her to be in her mid to late twenties. Why would she dress like that?

He moved around her. “My office is down the hall.” She didn’t respond, just followed him in those quiet old-lady shoes. He walked behind his desk, then waved his hand at one of the chairs facing him. “Have a seat. Would you like something to drink? Water, coffee, a soda?”

“No thank you.” She sat, fussed with the hem of her dress, making sure that it covered her knees, and then pulled her sweater tight around her chest.

He took the opportunity to study her while she was getting settled. She didn’t wear any makeup, not even lipstick, and her skin was pale, as if she never let the sun touch her face. Her hair was honey blond, and he imagined it was pretty when not coiled in a tight ball. It was her eyes that had him blinking in surprise. They were the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. They put him in mind of the sea around the Virgin Islands. Almost turquoise. They were beautiful and unique.

With her dress and sweater fixed to her liking, she stared down at her hands where they were clasped tightly on her lap. Instinctively, he knew he was going to have to treat her with kid gloves. She was pretty, would maybe be beautiful if she wasn’t trying so hard to fade into the woodwork. He couldn’t imagine that she’d always been like this, and he wanted to have a word with whoever had turned her into a scared little mouse.

“Before we start, I need some basic information. Full legal name, address, home and cell phone numbers, and your email address.”

“Why do you need all that?”

“Because you’re asking for our help, so I need to know all the ways I can contact you. I’m not going to show up on your doorstep unannounced, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m sorry,” she said to her knees. Then, still not looking at him, she rattled off all her information.

“Thank you.” From the way she meekly apologized, he guessed she was used to being sorry for something. That didn’t set right with him. He picked up one of his businesscards and, after writing on the back, slid it across the desk to her. “I know you have the office number, but my cell phone number’s on the back. You can reach me anytime of the day or night. Now, you mentioned that you needed help with your son,” he said, still keeping his voice soft. “Let’s start with his name.”

“Tyler.” She tucked the card into her purse.

As he had on the phone when she’d called to make an appointment, he had to strain to hear her. He rested his elbows on his desk and leaned toward her. “How old is Tyler?”

“Five.”

They were going to be here all afternoon if she was only going to give him one-word answers. “What is it you need from The Phoenix Three?”

For the first time, her eyes met his, and there was a fierceness in them that surprised him. “I need you to help me get custody of him, Mr. Montana.”

“Grayson.” Getting her to use his first name was one way to get her to start trusting him. “Where is your son now?”

“His father has full custody.”

Oh, boy. The last thing he wanted was to get in the middle of a custody battle. The Phoenix Three specialized in finding children who’d been kidnapped or abducted or were runaways. They did not get involved in family disputes. “Miss Pressley, I think you need a good lawyer.”

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