Page 74 of Salvaged Hearts

“Don’t be silly. She adores you. Besides, there’s plenty of room,” I said, arms wide to emphasize the front of the house. Opening the car door, Max turned over his shoulder, that creepy smile back on his face.

With a wink, he said, “You’re gonna need it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”Mischief. That was what the smirk across Max’s face was. Because smirking in answer to a question wasn’t unsettling as fuck. “Max?What’s that supposed to mean?”

His Uber driver closed the door behind him and, with a vague nod in my direction, circled the hood to get into the driver’s side. Without another answer, they descended the drive, and I was left staring up at my house, wondering what in the hell they’d gotten into today.

I was a trained Navy Seal, for god’s sake. I didn’t get to be scared to go inside my own damn house. Terrifying though she may be, Alice was five-foot-ten, and I was pretty sure I could take her.

With a fortifying breath, I shoved open the front door and found the entire space…quiet. Dark. I wandered to Alice’s room, where she liked to draw or paint as the sun set.Nothing. Easing the door closed behind me, I headed for the kitchen.Nothing. Balcony?Nada.

“Alice?” I called as I wandered into the dark dining room, only to find it empty, and deciding Jax must be hunkered down in the security room. When I finally reached our room, Ihesitantly opened my own damn door like an intruder, which is when I heard her…singing. Given the acoustics, she had to be in the ensuite bathroom.

Never in the two years she’d worked for me had I been given any indication the woman could sing. And shecouldsing. Beautifully. So well that I leaned into the door when it clicked shut behind me. Just to steal another moment. I didn’t know what she was singing—something about finding peace in a place with black sand. But her words lulled me onto the edge of the bed, sitting in silence to soak up the pain buried in her voice as I loosened my tie.

Pain I prayed I hadn’t put there.

Charcoal, paints, music…Alice hid the heart of an artist behind data and strategy.

I was just yanking my second shoe free when her pitch changed, my ears straining for her footsteps and instead hearing the clink of metal as something zoomed through my peripheral. Tracking the flash of gold, I found the cross necklace I’d given her beside me and snapped my head up, turning to watch Alice step into my room wearing nothing but a white bath towel wrapped around her still-damp body. Long tendrils of dark, wet hair hung over her shoulders. Her song, naturally, stopped.

“I told you I didn’t want your money, Greyson.”

She knew. She knewenough. Voice level, I countered, “But there are circumstances where you might need it. Dragging you into this…” I shook my head. “You’re my responsibility in this.”

Like two predators sizing each other up, she prowled into the room, eyes locked on me. Wrapping the necklace around my fist, I brought the cross to my lips, bracing for whatever her reaction would be. Ever since that day in the office last month, this woman had held the ability to break me. There wasn’t a world where I could look at her like collateral, which meant she undoubtedly had the upper hand here.

I might be the face of the company, but Alice would be the one calling the shots.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” she asked softly. To my surprise, when she reached the bed, she nudged my knees apart and stepped between them. Breath flying into my lungs, my hands fell to settle on her hips. Grateful for the feel of her. The soft give of her body beneath the fabric. The heat from her shower.

Of all the reactions to what was contained on that flash drive, I had to admit this was not the one I expected.

“Grey, answer me. Were you ever going to tell me aboutThunderstrike?”

“Why didn’t you ask?” I parried the question with one of her own.

Scowling, she ran her teeth over her bottom lip, and I beat back the desire to do the same. “I did.”

“Why didn’t you askagain?” I clarified. Smiling when she went pensive, I explained, “We haven’t had the time to confront all of this.”

She blinked before sucking down a breath. “Touché, Hart.”

Pride brimming through, demanding I smile up at her as my hands tightened on her hips, I asked, “So?”

“So?” she echoed back.

“What were you singing?”

Her eyes went wide with surprise, and then she laughed. “Borders, by Kalandra.”

“It was beautiful. Your voice is beautiful.”

“Thank you. But, stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“You know what you’re doing. AndThunderstrikeislike Blackwater. Now. What part do you play?” she volleyed back. When I just stared up at her, willing her to vocalize what shesuspected, she stated, “You’re hunting predators. On a global scale.”

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