I’m not surprised. Even when all signs indicated he was dead, some instinct of self-preservation warned me he wasn’t. My greatest suspicion has also been my greatest fear—that he was behind Owen’s assassination.
For a moment, guilt tourniquets my throat and I can’t breathe. If Gregory did this, I may as well have planted that bomb—may as well have murdered Owen myself. He’d be alive if not for this vendetta against me.
“How do you know?” I ask.
“He left a message for you.”
My eyes cut across the small space separating us, the width of the coffee table. “A message? What the hell do you mean?”
Grim shakes his head and barks out a brief, humorless laugh. “He left a message at your office to call him.”
“To call . . . the fuck?”
“He called CadeCo’s US headquarters in New York and left an urgent message that your friend Abe was trying to reach you. They passed his number on to Jin Lei, probably thinking it was some prankster, but wanted her to have it just in case. She recognized the name . . . well, the fake name, and called me.”
I hate him. I detest his flippancy and his complete disregard for human life.
“Jin Lei was at the funeral,” I say, realizing she and I barely got to speak. “She didn’t mention it.”
“She wouldn’t have said anything there, but she passed it onto me because she knew we’d have to address it. This is the last thing you should be dealing with on the day you had to bury your brother, but I’m afraid we can’t afford to wait.”
“He did this, Grim,” I say through caged teeth and tight lips. “He killed Owen. I know it.”
“If he did, that means he’s a lot more active and a lot closer than we’d expected.”
“And definitely not dead. I knew he wasn’t.”
“All signs pointed to—”
“I don’t care about signs, Grim.” I stand and pace, dragging my fingers through my hair. “I knew it in my gut.”
“Well, there was nothing we could do about it. Our antennae have been up and we’ve been hunting, but there was no sign of him until now.”
“Now, after he’s killed my brother and left a fucking message at my office to brag about it.” I slam my fist into the nearest wall, denting it and sending pain shooting through my hand. “Son of a bitch.”
The bedroom door opens and footsteps hurry up the short hall. Lennix appears, a silk robe barely covering her. The curve of her breast tantalizes me, and her robe gapes a little, revealing the sexy sliver of her collarbone. Her lips are kiss-swollen. Tiny red marks dot her slim throat, rising from the neckline. Her hair is silky and tumbled. She looks thoroughly fucked. I never want anyone else, not even Grim, whom I trust with my life, with hers, to see Lennix like this.
“What’s wrong?” Her eyes widen and she rushes over, grabs my hand and frowns up at me. “You’ve hurt yourself. Let me get some ice to—”
“Go get dressed,” I say in a low voice, my hand at her back turning her back toward the bedroom.
“What? I . . .” She glances at Grim and gathers the collar of her robe in one hand. “Grim, hi.”
“Lennix.” Grim nods, but wisely keeps his eyes trained on her face.
“I’ll . . . be back.” She nods to my hand. “We need to get ice on that, though. It’s already swelling.”
“Okay.” I walk her toward the hall. “When you come out.”
I stride back to the sitting room, standing closer to Grim and pitching my voice lower, glancing over my shoulder. “Let’s get this over with.”
“You won’t be able to keep this from her. You know that, right?”
“If he did this to Owen, he’ll . . .” Horror and rage and fear stunt my words. “She was supposed to be in that car, Grim. If anything happens to Nix—”
“We’ll protect her.”
“Like I protected my brother?” I choke on self-condemnation, barely getting the words out.
“Owen had round-the-clock security, and if Keene got to him, there wasn’t more we—you—could have done given the information we had.”
“Of course it was him. Who else?”
“We gotta talk to him. If he’s being this bold and foolish, he’ll slip up and leave clues for us to follow.”