Page 11 of The Bastard (Filthy Trilogy 1)

“It doesn’t feel right.”

“But she does, correct? She’s not one of them.”

His question comes from understanding. He’s the only person I talk to, the only person in this world I really trust, outside of a few of my SEAL buddies, and we never speak. We’d die for each other, and be there for each other with one phone call, but they don’t know me beyond blood and sacrifice. Grayson does. He knows about the moment I saw her on that stage. He knows how it affected me. He knows how I reasoned that away, as some Bastard/Princess head game I’d put on myself. “Six years, Grayson,” I repeat. “That’s loyalty, not obligation.”

“But she doesn’t feel like one of them,” he presses. “You keep saying that for a reason, and you have the best instincts I’ve ever seen.”

“I have a head for numbers. I have a head for statistics. That’s not this. I can’t trust my instincts when it comes to a woman I want to fuck. Maybe I just want what I didn’t have or can’t have.”

He studies me for several long moments, not entertaining my musings. He gets right to the point. “You don’t want to turn your back on her. What are you going to do?”

“I told her to get out of there and I offered her a job.”

“Which you knew she’d decline,” he comments, lifting his glass in my direction. “Where does that leave you and her?”

“I made sure she knows the door is open. She can leave.”

“You mean she can come to you.” He leans forward. “Do you really think she knows she can come to you?”

“I repeated the offer more than once.”

“In a short meeting after a six-year wait for a reunion. How do you know anything about her and her motives at this point?” He taps the table. “Let’s be honest. Let’s get to the meat of this. We both know the state of that company for reasons you probably don’t want to share with Harper. We both know there are things going on that spell trouble.”

“Get to the meat, Grayson.”

“How much trouble is that for her? Is she in danger? Maybe she can’t get out without your help. Maybe she was afraid to tell you that, for reasons we can both surmise. You could turn on her.”

“Fuck. Stop already.”

“Do you care what happens to her?”

“I barely know her.”

“And yet you never forgot her. That’s how this works. It’s how it worked for me with Mia. I met her and it was her. It was never going to be anyone else.”

It’s not her, I think. It won’t ever be her. He just doesn’t get the dynamic between me and this woman. He can’t. He’s never been the bastard. He’s a better version of Isaac, the heir, and Grayson is the king now that his father is gone. I tap the contract. “Work. Money. Your money. Now.”

His lips quirk. “I hit about ten nerves, I see.”

“Clause eight,” I say, and once I start talking, I distract him with business, even if my mind is constantly going to Harper. Is she in danger? I need help. She said that several times.

I’m still thinking about those words when Mia appears by the table, looking gorgeous in a pink dress, her long dark hair loose around her shoulders. “Hello, you two handsome men.” She slides into the booth and kisses Grayson, her hand settling on his jaw. “I missed you.”

I have no idea what it is about this moment that gets to me. I see these two together all the damn time and I never think of me with someone else, but right now, I’m thinking about Harper. I’m thinking about me with Harper. “Fuck,” I murmur, pushing out of the booth and grabbing my phone from my pocket.

I step outside, welcoming the cold October night, and I dial Blake Walker of Walker Security, a man who’s not only a world class hacker and ex-ATF

agent, he and his team, just helped us through another nightmare. I trust them. “Eric,” he greets. “What’s up?”

“Kingston Motors.”

“I know the connection to you,” he offers without prodding. “I make it a point of knowing the people I’m working with.”

“Good. This will go faster then. Find out what’s dirty there. If you can’t get real answers, hack the financials with enough detail to allow me to dissect it all. Look at the officers, especially my half-brother and father.”

“What else?”

“I’ll email you a list of questions on my mind in a few minutes. I need this to be comprehensive. Take the time you need. What I need now: find out if my grandmother had a heart attack about a year ago. Text me the information.”

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