Dani swallowed hard, her control faltering. He’d learned to sign to talk to Greg? He didn’t interact with Greg except at holiday parties.

He’d only interact one-on-one with Greg if . . . If we become “us.”

She took a giant step back, bumping into the counter. Unable to say a word, she turned and fled to her office to make her calls. She needed a few minutes to shore up her defenses. And then she’d tell Diesel Kennedy—once and for all—to back off.

And then?

I’ll be lonely. But he’ll be safe.

Indian Hill, Ohio
Saturday, March 16, 1:45 p.m.

Cade pulled the stethoscope away from Richard’s chest. Finally. It had taken hours longer than he’d expected. But his boss was finally and definitely dead.

An insulin overdose would do that to a man. Unfortunately, Richard hadn’t died as painfully as he’d deserved. He’d died in his own bed, in his own house. He’d probably been unconscious for most of the fun. He should have been awake, meeting the same fate as the others.

Richard had known. He’d done it twice—trafficked human beings twice. Actually, he’d done it more than twice, but Cade hadn’t been aware of that until he’d broken into Richard’s very private database. Twice, however, would have been enough.

Cade would have preferred to kill him with the Sawzall, dumping him in the river, too, but Richard would be missed and possibly connected to his missing guests. That would connect to Cade, and that would be bad.

Plus, he needed Richard’s death to appear natural, if premature, so that he could get another job. It was easier to say you’d left your old job because your boss had had a heart attack. Far more difficult if the guy had mysteriously gone missing.

So he’d used Richard’s body against him. The man had suffered from type 1 diabetes and had been insulin dependent for years. Cade had seen him injecting himself a number of times.

He’d given him an extra dose. Or ten. The timing was convenient. Richard wouldn’t be expected back at the riverboat casino until Wednesday night, and by then all the insulin would be out of his system.

There were no super-secret poker games during that time, and Richard often left the normal casino operation to his manager. There would be no suspicion of any foul play.

Cade would show up on time for his shifts, behaving as if nothing was wrong. And then when Richard’s body was finally found, he’d be so damn sad.

He turned to Richard’s mirror and practiced his sad face. Then laughed because his sad face needed some work. That was okay. He had a few days to perfect it.