‘What it is to me,’ Alyssa enunciated clearly, ‘is that your girlfriend hasn’t been seen since leaving the restaurant where she and her friends had dinner. And I’m wondering if those scratches could have anything to do with her disappearance. So, I’ll ask again. What happened to your face?’

That cocky, arrogant smile spread across his face once more, and he leaned back against the wall, one heel resting on it as he crossed his arms in a way that showcased his gym-made muscles. He and his father shared a smirk before he focused his gaze on Alyssa. ‘A cat scratched me. And Jersey’s not my girlfriend anymore. You heard my dad. She was only good for two things. And she wasn’t much good at one of those. I’ll let you guess which one.’

The way Cord’s body tensed, as if he was a snake coiled to strike, had Alyssa on edge. She tried to catch his eye, to convey to him that he needed to calm down, but his narrow-eyed gaze remained steadfast on Beau’s.

She refocused her attention back on Jersey’s boyfriend – or ex – if what he claimed was true. ‘But you were with Jersey yesterday, is that correct?’

Beau flicked an imaginary piece of lint from his jeans, turning as his mother returned with a glass filled with ice and Coke for him, and a smaller one filled with what appeared to be whiskey for her husband. Great. Handing hard liquor to a man who was already an ass was a tremendous idea.

Only after chugging half the drink did Beau answer. ‘Yeah. I was with her at her house, but I broke up with her before I left.’

‘But she was still your girlfriend when you suggested the threesome she declined?’

Beau’s eyes shot up before he relaxed, shrugged, and presented a bored face. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘I’m talking about your suggestion that your girlfriend have sex with two men at the same time while you watched.’ Alyssa didn’t miss the small grin on Mr. Cambridge’s face, nor the smirk on Beau’s.

‘I don’t know who told you that, but it’s a lie.’

Whatever Alyssa would’ve said next was interrupted when Cord stepped forward. ‘Why don’t you show me your hands?’ He may have posed it as a question, but his tone made clear that this was an order.

Beau stiffened. ‘What for?’

‘Let’s just call it curiosity. Worried I’ll see something you don’t want me to see?’

After shooting a nervous glance his father’s way, Beau held his hands out, first palms down, then flipping them up, before shoving them back into his armpits.

Alyssa noted another scratch on the outside of his left hand. ‘From the cat?’ she asked, allowing the sarcasm to drip through.

‘Yeah.’

‘Whose cat?’

‘What?’

She shrugged. ‘Whose cat? Yours?’

‘No, a buddy’s.’

‘You don’t mind if we have a look at your room and in your vehicle, do you?’ Cord asked.

Beau shoved himself off the wall, his arms dropping to his sides, his gaze flitting to his father. ‘What the hell for?’ Was it panic or something else that caused his face to flush pink?