The detective stared at me, his gold eyes dark. “Surely there’s another way besides killing Dawson.”

“And what way would that be, detective? Turn Tobias Dawson into the cops? For what, making threats? It wouldn’t take, and you know it. Besides, the police usually require a pesky little thing called proof. And I’m betting there is none. Dawson’s too smart for that. Am I right?” I looked at Warren.

Warren shook his head. “It’s just my word against his. Dawson’s men are the ones who’ve been harassing my customers, never him directly. But his men would never speak out against him. He pays them too well for that.”

“But you own the land, Warren, the mineral rights,” Donovan said. “Dawson just can’t do whatever he wants with your property. You could take him to court to get him to stop. We have the files from his office. We can prove what he’s doing.”

Finn snorted. “Yeah, files which you and Gin got by breaking into Dawson’s office. No judge would ever allow them in court. And I don’t think Dawson would be eager to cough up any more information. Besides, look at it from the money angle. A court case would drag on for years, and Dawson’s pockets are a lot deeper than Warren’s are.”

“Even then,” I said, “Dawson could probably buy the verdict he wanted. And while everything was getting settled the wrong way in court, Dawson could continue his reign of terror in the meantime. Make another play for Violet in the meantime. Face it, detective, the dwarf isn’t going to walk away from a mountain full of diamonds. Nobody would. There’s only one way to get him to stop. My way.”

Our eyes met and held, gold on gray. After a moment, Donovan Caine looked away, but not before I caught the weary resignation in his gaze, the sag in his shoulders, the deep lines of defeat in his face. He knew what I said was true. He didn’t like it, but the detective was going to let me do it. He knew I was going after Tobias Dawson, and he wasn’t going to try to stop me. Not anymore. I hadn’t expected the detective to come around so easily.

I wondered what had caused the quick turnaround. His friendship with Warren Fox? Me? Something else?

But I didn’t feel like celebrating my victory in making the detective agree to my plan. Something was bothering Donovan. Me, most likely, and what had happened between us in the backseat of his sedan. But the detective’s anger over my assassinating Cliff Ingles, his corrupt partner, seemed to have faded away, for whatever reason.

Donovan hadn’t mentioned it once all day. So what had I done now that was so terrible besides give him a couple of orgasms? I couldn’t help but wonder.