A Cry in the Dark (Carly Moore #1) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,109

any sign of defensiveness, “I was charged with a DUI and breaking and entering.”

“But there were other charges at first. Robbery. I heard you broke into the garage you now own. Is any of that true?”

He dared to sneak a quick glance at me. “Yeah. I broke into the garage, but I didn’t steal anything that wasn’t rightfully mine. And I was driving while drunk. I deserved the conviction. I could have killed someone.”

“Is that why you wouldn’t allow your parents to hire an attorney?”

He snorted. “No, I’d already told my father I didn’t want anythin’ to do with him or his money, and that included hirin’ me an attorney.”

“What were you trying to get back that was yours?”

He was silent for a moment, as if considering how much he wanted to share. I started to think he was done talking when he said, “A baseball. My grandfather had given it to me when I was a kid.” He shot me a sideways grin. “It was signed by Joe DiMaggio. I loved that stupid thing.”

A baseball? It obviously had sentimental meaning if he’d gotten it from his grandfather. “How did it end up in the garage?”

“My maternal grandfather and my dad didn’t get along, but that old man loved me, which pissed my father off to no end. So when I told my father I wanted nothin’ to do with him, he sold the baseball to Earl Cartwright out of spite. I tried to buy it back, but Earl refused to part with it. One night I was pissed and drunk—never a good combination—and I decided to get it out of the display case in Earl’s garage.”

“So you got it back?” I asked.

He shook his head with a wry look. “No. The sheriff took it as evidence. It went missing. My father paid Earl enough to get him to drop the robbery charges, then paid my girlfriend to leave town.” He tilted his head toward me. “He thought she wasn’t good enough for me.”

“Was she?” I asked with a hint of a smile.

“This was one of those rare instances when he was right. Turns out she was more interested in the Drummond money than the Drummond’s eldest son.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I faced the same thing. Turns out most men were more interested in the fact that I was the Blakely Oil heiress than they were in me.”

“Including the guy you left at the altar?” he asked.

“Nooo…” I said, drawing it out the word. “I didn’t technically leave him at the altar. I left him the night before the wedding. And while I’m sure Jake was interested in my father’s oil money, he was much more drawn to my father’s illegal business ventures.”

His brow shot up. “Like corporate espionage?”

I released a short laugh. “It’s a hell of a lot worse than that. Think drugs and arms smuggling.”

“Shit,” he said, his shock evident. “Is that why he wants you back? Because you know too much?”

“No, although I’m sure he’s probably concerned about that too.”

He gave me a worried look. “So why does he want you?”

Did I risk telling him? Hadn’t I already risked enough? What was this admission compared to everything else?

Mistaking my hesitation, he said, “I’m not going to turn you in, Carly. I hope you know that by now.”

I turned to him in surprise. “That hadn’t even crossed my mind.”

He smiled, his face lighting up. “Progress.”

“Progress,” I admitted, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Admitting I was so dispensable to my father was humiliating. “How much do you want to know?”

“As much as you’re willing to share. I’ll guard your secrets, Carly. I swear.”

Call me a fool, but I believed him. “Okay. I’ll tell you everything.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

“I think I need to start with my mother’s death,” I said, shifting my gaze to stare out the windshield. It hurt too much to look at him.

To my surprise, he reached across the seat and took my hand, twining our fingers together. “Take your time.”

His touch meant more than it should. Feeling like this was dangerous. Yet the warmth and strength of his hand gave me the courage to continue. “My mother was killed in a car accident when I was nine. Up until a year or so before she died, I thought my life was perfect. I knew we had money, but I didn’t truly understand it. I went to a private school where everyone had money.”

“I knew,” Wyatt said softly. “I knew right away. Max and I went to public school, and the

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