Page 13 of Ten Beach Road

She actually laughed when Madeline Singer called, hoping to sell Nicole her third; she barely had enough to get to Florida to look at their “asset” and wasn’t sure how she’d manage to stay there long enough to take care of the paperwork and put it up for sale.

She was no longer laughing when the FBI showed up on her doorstep, yet again, demanding to know where her little brother—and the three hundred million–plus dollars he’d stolen—had gone.

“Do I look like I know where three hundred million dollars is?” Nicole glanced around the stripped-down interior of her apartment. She’d sold off every piece of artwork she’d collected that had any monetary value, the best of her antiques, and every stitch of vintage clothing she’d been able to authenticate.

Special Agent Giraldi stared back at her from behind piercing eyes that were more black than brown. He had a strong nose and even stronger chin. If he possessed a sense of humor, he had yet to display it.

“I’ve told you, I don’t know where he is. And I am not harboring someone who would steal from his own flesh and blood.”

“So you’re not worried about the other investors.” Agent Giraldi’s voice was carefully controlled, just like his movements.

“I didn’t say that. But I’m worried about me first. I still can’t believe my own brother stole every penny I had.” Especially one she’d mothered when their own mother no longer could.

He nodded, conceding the insult added to injury. “All the more reason why you should help us put him behind bars and return the money to its rightful owners.” He was much too large for the settee on which he sat. Nicole hoped he was as uncomfortable as she was.

“Look, I don’t even have a working telephone number for Malcolm. And he certainly hasn’t been in touch with me.” She wasn’t sure how much longer she could sit still. She folded her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking.

“And if I could provide you with a way of getting in touch with him, would you help us bring him in?” the agent asked.

Nicole stood, wanting to bring this conversation to an end. She was furious with Malcolm and hurt in a way she could never make this man understand. And yes, she damned well wanted her money back. But did she want to get involved with the FBI? Did she want to be the one who went out and dragged her brother back to justice? She didn’t even want anyone knowing hewasher brother. Every day she reminded herself of how much worse things would be if they’d had the same last name or traveled in the same circles.

Giraldi narrowed his dark eyes, and she had a horrible feeling that he knew exactly what she was thinking. He rose. “You don’t owe him your loyalty, you know. He didn’t feel any for you when he took all your money.”

Nicole looked the FBI agent in the eye even though she had to look up to do so. He was right, of course. But Malcolm had been more like her child than her brother, and he was a product of their environment just as she was. When they’d vowed to succeed at any cost, it hadn’t occurred to her that that cost would be levied on others. Or that for Malcolm, “others” would include her.

They locked gazes for a long moment. Nicole was the first to look away. “I’ll think about it,” she said, escorting him to the door. Which was exactly what she’d said to him the last two times he’d asked.

“Well, I wouldn’t think about it too long. The longer it takes us to find him, the less chance we have of recovering the missing money.”

He handed her his card, just as he had every time he’d called on her. This time he scribbled his cell phone number on the back. “Call me if you hear from him. Or if you think of anything that might help us track him down.”

“Right.” She opened the door and waited for him to leave, both of them aware that she hadn’t actually committed.

But this time after he’d gone she didn’t throw the card away.

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