Page 34 of Bound Lies

It’s easy for Ronan to say to just let this go, but he’s not the one who’s going to be living with Declan Walsh’s daughter for the foreseeable future.

I know I’m right about Riley. I just need to prove it, and there’s only one person who can help me.

“Whose legs do I need to break?”

Aiden Clark is an ex-cop turned private investigator. When he realized the badge didn’t pay half as well as the dirty jobs, he decided to come over to our side, taking on the kind of cases that never make it to court.

“No one’s right now. But I do need a favor.” I start making my way through the onslaught of pedestrians.

It’s only a ten-minute walk from Sullivan Investments to my penthouse, but it’s also peak tourist time in New York, which means I’ll be lucky if I make it home in an hour.

“How serious are we talking?”

“I need this one off the books.”

“You got a name?”

“Yeah, Riley Walsh.”

“As in Declan Walsh’s kid?”

“That’s the one.”

“Well, shit. This just got interesting.”

“I need to know if she’s clean.”

“I’m guessing not just from STDs?” Aiden chuckles. “You planning on sticking your cock in places you shouldn’t, Sullivan?"

“Not if I can help it. But I want a full background check. Pull her high school transcripts if you have to. If there’s dirt, I want to know about it. Oh, and Aiden? Keep this to yourself.”

“I assume your brother doesn’t know you’re calling me.”

“Ronan’s made his choice, and I’m making mine.”

“You got it. I’ll dig around and see what I can find. It might take a couple of days.”

“That’s fine. Just don’t leave anything out.”

I hang up and tuck my phone into my pocket, feeling marginally better.

If Riley’s hiding something, Aiden will find it. And if she’s not? Well, then maybe I’ll start believing that she’s really on our side.

I decide to take a few detours on my way home and stop in on a few of the clubs that my brothers and I own. Some of them are above board, but the majority of them serve as fronts for various business ventures that we prefer to keep off the books.

By the time I get home, it’s almost lunchtime. I made an appointment with our family’s lawyer for this afternoon, so I can get him working on this ridiculous contract for Riley.

Right now, she feels like a live grenade who’s been strategically placed inside my apartment, and I want to stick a pin in whatever secret plans she has as soon as possible.

When I step off the elevator into the penthouse, I find Riley sitting at the kitchen island, eating a turkey sandwich.

I try not to bristle at the sight of her tucking into all of my groceries that I have specifically brought in from my favorite delis throughout New York.

It’s bad enough that she’s staying with me, but now she’s eating my food?

This girl is walking a very thin line.

“Finish up. We have to go.”