Page 69 of My Craving

“Max knowing where you went after you deliberately lost your security is not the same as having someone there who could help you.”

“Walking into the hotel with two security guards would’ve made the whole breaking-and-entering part a little difficult.”

Duncan’s expression doesn’t change, but his hand stays warm against the back of my neck. “You had other options. My problem isn’t that you went after information we needed. It’s that you made sure the people trying to protect you couldn’t help if something went wrong.”

I look down at the drives in his hand. He isn’t trying to push me out of this or act like I can’t take care of myself, and that makes it a hell of a lot harder to argue with him. “I’m used to working alone. I’ve been doing it that way for years.”

“You aren’t alone anymore.”

I lift my eyes back to his. Having someone else to consider before I do whatever the fuck seems necessary will take some getting used to, especially when that someone is Duncan. “I’m trying to figure out how that works.”

His fingers tighten slightly at the back of my neck. “So am I, A Sholas. I don’t expect you to stop doing what you do, but disappearing when someone is actively targeting you can’t be part of it.”

He has a point, even if I don’t particularly enjoy admitting it. “Next time I’ll tell you before I do something that might piss you off.”

“Before you do something dangerous.”

“Those seem to be the same thing lately.”

His mouth finally twitches, and I lean in to kiss him before he can decide we need another rule. Then I remember the other thing I still haven’t told him and pull back.

“There’s more.” I leave the drives on the couch beside us. “Someone got into my apartment again this morning. Alina left more photographs, but this time they were mostly of you, Maria, and Declan. There was a note with them.”

Duncan’s attention sharpens. “What did it say?”

“That Maria is dead, and you killed her.” I put my hand against his jaw before he can misunderstand why I’m telling him. “I never believed it. I’m telling you because whoever left it wanted me to question you, and I want to hear what actually happened from you.”

His expression changes in a way I can’t immediately read. “I didn’t kill Maria, but she is dead.”

The hospital records Zee found come back to me. “Did her death have something to do with you and Declan being hospitalized?”

Duncan looks at me carefully. “How did you find out about that?”

“Zee found the records while he was digging into Maria. We can argue about my questionable investigative choices after you tell me what happened.”

I keep my hand against his face while Duncan tells me about Maria poisoning him and five-year-old Declan, Kieran getting them to the hospital, and Alessia going after Maria once she knew they would survive. He doesn’t dress any of it up, but I can hear the difference between Duncan talking about something that happened twenty-two years ago and something that stopped mattering twenty-two years ago. Those aren’t the same thing. By the time he finishes, my anger with him is gone. I lean in and kiss him slowly, staying close when our mouths part.

“Okay.” I brush my thumb along Duncan’s jaw. “Then we find out what Alina wants from you and make damn sure she doesn’t get it.”

Chapter 32 Duncan

I’ve spent enough time talking about Maria today. Nash is still sitting across my lap, one hand resting against my chest, and for a few minutes neither of us moves. Then his eyes drop to the hard drive on the table.

He plugs in the drive and leans against my side while it loads. There’s far more on it than we can go through tonight, and after opening several folders, it becomes obvious that neither of us knows what half of it means. Some contain nothing but financial records. Others are filled with photographs, travel information, old documents, and lists of names with no explanation for why Alina saved them.

Nash works his way through another folder before his hand stops on the mouse. “Here you are.”

I lean closer, and he shifts the laptop between us. Years of information about me fill the screen. News articles, Murphy Enterprises records, photographs from charity events, and information about people I’ve worked with or donated money to. Nash scrolls farther back through the dates, and the longer he does, the less I like what I’m seeing. Some of the files were created years before Whitmore ever introduced us.

“She was looking for you before she met you,” Nash says quietly.

That much is obvious. What isn’t obvious is why.

We keep going, opening whatever looks relevant, and eventually Maria’s name starts appearing. There are old records from Europe, searches under both Rusu and Santoro, and enough financial information mixed through it that I recognize pieces of the trail we followed twenty-two years ago. When the eight-million-dollar transfer appears on the screen, I tell Nash what it is and explain that the last place we traced the money was an offshore account.

He reads through several more files before leaning back against me. “So Alina has spent years looking for Maria, the money, and you, but none of this tells us how those three things connect.”

“Not yet.”