For a minute, I’d allowed myself to think this could be a fantasy love-at-first-sight story like Rock and Lacey’s.

I was wrong.

Rock was who he was. He didn’t hide himself from anyone. He came in like a bull in a china closet, made all the waves he could, and didn’t apologize for any of it. From what I’d heard in the old office that first day, he was that way in the bedroom as well.

Roy?

Roy was a puzzle.

The soul of an artist and the beauty of a Renaissance sculpture…but something wasn’t adding up.

Did I want to know what it was?

Did I?

I exhaled slowly. Last night I’d been fancying myself in love with him. Oh, I hadn’t allowed myself to think the words, but that was where I was headed. I’d known it at the time, just hadn’t wanted to form the words in my head.

I had to slow down.

Way down.

Of course, getting on a private jet with him and flying to Montana wasn’t exactly the way to do that.

But I didn’t have a choice.

It was my job.

“Silver…”

“What?”

“You just haven’t said anything in a few minutes.”

I nodded. Time to get serious. “You might not take this seriously, but I do. This is my job, and I want to do the best I can. I plan to be at the private terminal on time, preferably a little early. What you do is up to you.”

“They won’t take off without me.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be on time no matter what. I want a good report to go back to Lacey and Rock.”

He smiled. “You’re something.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Your work ethic. It’s wonderful. I actually share it—when it comes to my real work. My art.”

“This is just as important as your art right now,” I said adamantly. “If we don’t solve this case, one of you is going to go down for your father’s murder.”

“None of us offed the bastard.”

“I know that. I believe you. But the cops want someone to pay for this, and if we don’t find out who did it—or at least prove you and your siblings didn’t—it could happen.”

Chills rushed through me at the thought. Roy was big and strong, but he wouldn’t fare well in prison. Rock and Reid would do okay, but Roy? There was a vulnerability about him, something I didn’t want to see tainted.

Was there, though? Or was I making that up? He seemed to be hiding something. Perhaps I was stereotyping an artist’s soul as vulnerable.

Maybe Roy Wolfe was just as strong as his brothers.

Maybe he was stronger.

16

Roy