Her father and Bill left, the door slamming behind them. Florence’s head spun. What had just happened here?

Clasping her hands, she faced the man who’d come to mean so much to her. “It’s true, isn’t it? You are the one destroying all the homes on my grandmother’s block so you can build a casino.”

“I never lied to you,” he ground out. “I never—”

“All you said was your revenge wasn’t physical or financial. How does that make this better? It’s my grandmother’s house, Clay.”

“It’s no less than what your father deserves.”

“Oh, I see. This is where you try to justify breaking my grandmother’s heart and sabotaging my future.”

Dark resentment roiled in the depths of his gaze. “I don’t need to justify myself. Not to you. Not to anyone.”

Her lips parted on a swift intake of breath. The callous words were like a blow, her body rocking with the impact.

Her reaction must have affected him because he dragged a hand through his hair and shifted on his feet. His tone softened. “I wasn’t using you as part of any revenge. This plan has been in motion for years.”

“How can I believe you?”

“I have never lied to you. Not once.”

“Lying by omission is still lying.”

“You knew more about this than anyone, save Jack. Regardless, everything that happened between us was honest.”

She wasn’t certain she could believe that. Before she could sort through her feelings, she had to learn what Clay and her father had been talking about. “I still don’t understand what my father did twenty years ago. Tell me what was so terrible that you needed to carry out—”

“Time’s up!” A fist pounded on the taproom door. “Come out now or I will break this door down.”

Her father. She kept her attention on Clay. “You owe me an explanation.”

“There isn’t one. If you are hoping to discover I’m the hero in this melodrama, you’ll be sorely disappointed.”

“Right now!” her father shouted. “I’m giving you ten seconds. Ten. Nine. Eight . . .”

The countdown continued. Years of experience told her that Duncan Greene never bluffed. Her father would bust the door down as soon as he finished counting. And perhaps she’d let him if she wasn’t the first woman inside the Hoffman taproom. If the place was destroyed tonight, the world would blame her. Then they’d never let another woman in, ever.

This is not done. I will have answers.

Florence started for the door. Before she turned the lock, she glanced over her shoulder at Clay. “I never asked for a hero. What I wanted was a partner.” Flicking the lock, she yanked on the knob and left.

Chapter Twenty-One

“Not so high and mighty now, are you?”