Page 7 of High Reward

Grace gasps softly. “Against you? The club?”

“Against all of us,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “But it won’t come to that. We have resources, connections. Phineas won’t be a problem for much longer.”

Lili’s eyes never leave my face. “And that’s it? That’s everything?”

Before I can answer, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I check the screen. It’s Owen.

“I need to take this,” I say, standing. “We’ll finish this conversation later.”

I step into the hallway, pulling the door partially closed behind me. Grace’s worried murmur follows me, but I can’t makeout the words. I head for my office, locking the door before answering.

“Tell me you have something,” I say without preamble.

Owen’s voice is clipped, efficient. “Kara Lindon. Thirty-six years old, widow of Sampson Lindon. Heir to the Whitcomb Tech fortune through her mother’s side. Estimated net worth of sixty-two million.”

I sink into my office chair. “Fuck.”

“Gets better. She liquidated significant assets three months ago. Approximately two million disappeared from traceable accounts. She’s hired a private investigator, a former FBI agent with a reputation for finding people who don’t want to be found.”

“Has she located Grace?” My knuckles go white around the phone.

“No confirmation. But the PI was in Vegas last week. Made inquiries at UNLV and showed up at Sabrina’s work, so we have to assume she has. It’s not like Grace has been hiding.”

I close my eyes, trying to process. Grace has no idea her ex-boyfriend killed himself, let alone that his widow, and her ex-girlfriend blames her and is apparently hunting her down with professional help.

“What does she want?” I ask, though I already know.

“Can’t say for certain,” Owen replies. “But my source says she’s been erratic. Obsessed with the suicide note. ‘She stole my will to live.’ Not exactly subtle what that kind of grief might drive someone to do.”

I press my fingers against my closed eyelids until I see stars. “Grace doesn’t know any of this. She thinks they just had a bad breakup years ago.”

“Are you going to tell her?”

The question hangs between us. Another burden to place on Grace’s shoulders, another threat to make her worry.

“Not yet,” I confirm. “Like I said at the warehouse, she’s already got enough on her plate, and I won’t burden her with this until I have to.”

“It’s not your call to decide what she can handle,” Owen says, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

“It is exactly my call,” I snap. “I protect what’s mine. Both of them.”

Owen sighs. “I’ll keep digging. But, Victor, if Kara Lindon is as unstable as my sources suggest, and if she has the resources to find Grace, we need to be prepared.”

“I’ve already increased security at the house. I’ll add more if needed.”

“And the club? Grace works there too.”

“We’ll handle it,” I say firmly. “Keep me updated on any movement from Kara. And Owen... thank you.”

I end the call and sit in silence for a moment, the weight of everything pressing down on me. Two threats. Two timelines. Two women I can’t lose.

When I finally emerge from the office, I find them waiting for me in the kitchen. Grace stands by the coffee maker, pouring three mugs. Lili leans against the counter, arms crossed over her chest. They both look up as I enter, their expressions mirroring concern.

“Coffee?” Grace offers, holding out a mug like a peace offering. So typical of Grace. Always the peacemaker, always looking for ways to serve.

I take it, our fingers brushing. “Thanks, butterfly.”

“So,” Lili says, her voice deceptively casual. “Are you going to tell us what’s really going on, or should we just pretend we believe whatever sanitized version you’re offering?”