Rock and his brother sat at the table. If the Wolfe men weren’t the most gorgeous beings in the universe, I didn’t know who were. Roy’s long hair was pulled back into a ponytail. It was straighter and calmer than Rock’s, which was now cut short. They both wore jeans and were bare-chested.

Damn.

If I weren’t totally in love with Rock, I’d actually be contemplating a threesome right about now. Not that either of them would ever do it. The Wolfe brothers didn’t share. I knew that instinctively.

I swallowed. How could I be thinking of a threesome when I was being investigated for murder?

“Hey, babe,” Rock said. “Coffee?”

I motioned for him to stay seated. “I’ll get it. Good morning, Roy.”

“Morning.” Roy sipped his coffee.

“Roy and I have been talking,” Rock said. “We think it’s best that we go back to New York right away.”

“Don’t expect me to disagree,” I said. “I just got a pretty distressing phone call.”

Rock lifted his brow. “Oh? What’s going on?”

“Apparently a detective questioned my assistant last night. At her home. At nine p.m.”

“Nine p.m.?” Rock lifted his brow further.

“Yeah.”

“Doesn’t sound right,” Roy said.

“I agree,” Rock said. “I’m definitely not liking this one bit. You two get packed up. I’ll call and get the jet ready to move.”

Rock and I made it back to my apartment by late afternoon with the time change. I plunked down in my recliner.

Now what?

Rock’s gun—the same model, though not the same gun, that had killed his father—was missing.

Rock’s fingerprints were on the gun that did kill his father, despite the fact that Rock had been two thousand miles away when the murder occurred.

An unidentified woman had told her gynecologist that Rock had gone to New York.

Rock’s brother Roy was hiding something—something he flew across the country for.

I’d nearly been arrested in Montana, and now a new detective was sniffing around my assistant after hours.

What did it all mean? And why?

The limo driver dropped our bags on the floor.

“Thanks, man.” Rock handed him a few bills and then closed the door.

We were alone.

Now that I was back in my own home, reality abruptly sank in. I was being investigated for murder. This was no joke. It was truly happening.

Rock pulled out his cellphone. “Time for some damage control.”

“What can you possibly do?”

“Me? Not much. My money? That’s another story.”

I stood. “No, Rock. Don’t go bribing people. Please.”

“You were okay with me paying Hoss.”

“I wasn’t exactly okay with it. Besides, this is totally different. We’re talking police detectives here, not a Harley-riding attorney.”