“Why should they have all the fun?” When the sledgehammer arced again, D.A. crawled under the sawhorses for a nap.

“He’s got a point.” Beckett glanced at Owen, got a shrug and grin. “We ought to start on the second floor.”

“This one’s not load-bearing.” Another couple swings and Ryder had the flimsy interior wall in rubble. “But yeah.” He leaned on the hammer, grinned back at his brothers. “Let’s gut this bitch.”

AFTER A FEW days of listening to bangs and crashes, Hope’s curiosity won. With Carolee on duty—the honeymooners were now into their fourth day of their wedding-night stay—she crossed the lot toward the newest Montgomery family project. She had a legitimate reason for seeking them out, but could admit her primary motive was curiosity.

She’d heard plenty of banging throughout the day, and every glance out the window showed her some grubby guy hauling debris out, and into a huge green Dumpster.

A text from Avery netted her the intel that demolition had begun on the projected fitness center.

She wanted to see for herself.

The banging booms increased as she approached, and she heard a burst of manic male laughter through the open windows. Grinding, guitar-heavy rock rolled out with it.

She walked up to the side entrance—what was left of it—peeked in.

Her eyes widened.

She’d never been in the building, but she’d looked in the windows, and she was pretty sure there’d been walls, and ceilings.

Now barely a skeleton remained, along with the tangled wire intestines and massive amounts of gray dust.

Cautious now as the thuds, thumps, and bangs seemed to shake the entire structure, she went around to the front.

The door stood open. To air it out? she wondered. Who knew?

Another door, one that led up to what had been second-level apartments, stood open as well. Music, men, bangs echoed down.

She considered the narrow stairs, the grimy stairwell, the noise. Not that curious, she decided, and backed away.

As she circled back around, two men—coated with gray dust, all but anonymous in their safety goggles, work gloves, and grimy faces, hauled out another load of what must have once been a wall. It landed in the Dumpster with a muffled thump.

“Excuse me,” she began.

She recognized Ryder by the way he turned his head, angled his body.

He shoved up his goggles, aimed one of his mildly annoyed stares with those impatient green eyes. “You’re going to want to stay back.”

“I can see that. It looks like you’re taking the building down to the shell.”

“That’s about it. You need to stay clear.”

“Yes, so you said.”

“Need something?”

“Actually, yes. I’m having a problem with some of the lights—the wall sconces. I thought if your electrician was here, he could—”