The Hot Brother (Romance Love Story) (Hargrave Brothers - Book #5)

by Alexa Davis

  After the medics had rolled the gurney outside, Adam repeated his question, “What happened to her?” This time through his clenched teeth.

  “The M.E. hasn’t made a determination yet, but at this point we do know that it looks like she was strangled. Whether or not that was the cause of her death remains to be seen. We’ll have more information after the autopsy is completed.”

  “And did you talk to her attorney…her boyfriend, whatever you want to call him, Hal Rogers?”

  “Yes, sir. We spoke to him as soon as we arrived. He was the one who discovered the body.”

  “I’m a little curious about how he got into my apartment,” Adam said.

  “He told us he had a key. He said the lady was expecting him.”

  Adam stood up and said, “Well, far be it from me to tell the police how to do your job, but he’d be someone I’d be looking into, if I were you.”

  “Thanks for the advice,” the detective said somewhat sarcastically. “I’ll be in touch.”

  As he started walking away Adam said, “Wait, can I get my things from the apartment?”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible tonight sir,” the man told him. “The crime scene techs will be a while.”

  “Come on,” Adam said, taking me by the hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

  As we walked out through the lobby doors, we saw that in the short time we had been here, the press had arrived. Standing next to a white van, photographer at her elbow, was Rose Dugan.

  We tried to hurry past as she yelled out, “Mr. Hanson, didn’t you lose most of your assets just this morning to your ex-wife?” and when Adam continued to walk on, pulling me along beside him she yelled,

  “Ms. Winston, would you like to make any comment about the scuffle you were in with Mrs. Hanson this afternoon?”

  I stopped and turned to look at her. I was caught off guard by her question. Who had told her about that? Just as I looked Rose’s way, the flash from the photographer’s camera went off in my face, blinding me to all else going on around us.

  “Baby, come on,” Adam prompted as he tugged gently on my hand. “We’ll figure this out when we get home, let’s just get out of here.”

  Adam guided me through the sea of reporters, and as the bulbs continued to flash and the voices all seemed to meld into one terribly loud roar in my pounding temples, I couldn’t help but think how surreal this all was. I had always thought, growing up, how exciting it would be to become an attorney someday. I had never thought that someday I would wish the excitement would just stop, and that my life could be just average and boring like everyone else’s.

  ********

  On the car ride home, I let my thoughts drift back to a simpler time when I was a little girl and would spend hours in my playhouse in the backyard. My playhouse was not like other little girl’s. My father who often over-indulged me had seen to that. Mine was an actual house, only on a much smaller scale than grown-up people lived in. It had a kitchen with a real working sink, a living room, bathroom, and a bedroom. I often pouted to my father that the bedroom may as well have been left out, since Mother would never allow me to spend the night in the backyard. It wasn’t an “appropriate” thing for young ladies to do, according to the Lady Winston.

  I always had an active imagination as a little girl. I could spend hours playing alone with my dolls and stuffed animals. I was the attorney and they were the bad guys or the victims or the judge. I knew even then what I wanted to do when I grew up. I wanted to defend all of the innocent people who were wrongly accused or had been forced to do things they wouldn’t have otherwise because they had been in a bad situation.

  I hadn’t lost all of that idealism. I still believed that people were inherently good. I had promised myself long ago that if I ever lost that ideology, I would change careers. I truly believed that people deserved a chance to either prove their innocence or explain what kind of terrible situation they were in that had caused them to do whatever they were being accused of. Tonight, I found myself wondering what kind of situation the person who had killed Marjorie tonight had found him or herself in that would cause them to take a life.

  Adam and I hadn’t spoken a word to each other on the way back to the apartment. I had been lost in my memories, and I presumed he had been, as well. I looked over at him as he parked the car. His face was drawn and sad, and all I wanted to do right then was hold him and make it all go away for a little while. When we had gotten up to the apartment, I brewed him some tea while Adam went in to build us a fire. I could hear him on his cell phone as he arranged the logs and paper. He was talking to Mac, trying to find out why Hal had called him and if Mac had any details other than what we had been given tonight. As I brought the tray with the teapot and cups into the room, I heard him saying,

  “So, he called you because he knew I would ask how he got into my house and he didn’t want to have to explain.” Adam’s tone was disgusted. He listened quietly for a moment and then with a chuckle he said,

  “Oh yes, I’m sure he just thought the news would be easier for me to hear coming from you. The fact is, Marjorie, as usual had given no thought to how her giving out a key to my apartment to her boyfriend would affect me, and at this point, it doesn’t matter anyways. I want you there if the police question either Alicia or me again; they were treating us like criminals tonight.” After another brief silence, he said,

  “Okay, Mac, I appreciate you, thanks. I’ll touch base with you in the morning.” After he hung up he took the cup of tea I had poured for him and said, “I have to make one more call, babe. I’m not sure if anyone has told Marjorie’s parents, but I should call them.”

  “Of course,” I said, shuddering to imagine how it would feel for a parent to get the news Adam was about to deliver. Adam punched in the number and then waited. After a few moments he said,

  “Sam, I’m sorry if I woke you, it’s Adam.”

  I could tell that Marjorie’s father was asking him how things were going. Adam looked almost green as he said, “Sam, I’m sorry, but I have some terrible news.” He took a deep breath and said, “Marjorie is gone, Sam. Someone killed her.”

  Adam spent the next twenty minutes or so trying to answer Marjorie’s dad’s questions. He ended the call by again telling the man how sorry he was and saying that if he or his wife needed anything, they could call him. As he laid down the phone, he placed his head in his hands and rubbed his fingers across his face. I went to him and put one arm across his back and my head down close to his. With my other hand, I took his hand from his face and laid a palm on his cheek.

  We sat there like that, not speaking for quite some time. The crackling of the fire was the only noise in the room until our quiet reprieve was broken by the sound of my phone. I looked at the number and although I didn’t recognize it I answered.

  “Ms. Winston?” It was a man’s voice I didn’t recognize.

  “Yes?”

  “This is Matt Peterson with the Times. I’d like to talk to you about the murder of Marjorie Hanson.”

  I hung up the phone, and as I released my finger from the end button, it rang again. This time, I didn’t even look at the number. I just pushed answer and yelled,

  “I have no comment!” into the phone.

  “I just wanted to make sure you’re alright." It was Jack. Once again he was "popping up." “The murder of Adam’s wife is all over the news. Are you safe, Alicia? He's not there is he?”

  “Of course, he’s here. I’m fine, Jack, thank you for your concern.” At the sound of Jack’s name, Adam looked at me and narrowed his eyes.

  “Alicia, the newscasters are saying he is a person of interest. If he would kill her…” I hung up. Adam was still looking at me.

  “What did he say?” Jack’s words rang out in my head once again. A person of interest. I thought my life was a mess before. Shit.

  PART THREE

  CHAPTER ONE

  ALICIA

  I awoke the next morning with a headac
he again. This one felt like a hangover, it hurt right behind my eyes. When they had adjusted to the morning light coming in the window, I looked over at Adam still asleep next to me. He looked more peaceful than he had in a long time. I didn’t want to wake him; he could enjoy his dreams a while longer. I slipped out underneath his arm. We’d fallen asleep on the couch and the fire had died out in the night. There was a biting chill in the room. I took the afghan off of the back of the couch and laid it gently across Adam.

  I had to get showered and dressed for my meeting with Miles V at nine a.m. He was lucky he’d been let out on bail, but I was still worried he would do or say something stupid and screw it up. I gave Adam a soft kiss on his forehead and went to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee brewing. Then, after laying out my clothes for the day, I got into a hot shower. I just stood there under the water for a while, allowing the warm water to release some of the tension that had embedded itself in my tired muscles. I eventually convinced myself to finish up and get out. I was wrapping up in a towel when I heard Alex in the next room on the phone. I peeked out to see him changing into one of the suits he leaves at my place with the phone tucked under his chin.

  “Alex, I was with Alicia last night, I told them that. No, I didn’t give them any more information. What was I supposed to do? I realize that. I am an attorney, and I tell my client’s not to speak to police without me present, but I was present. It is the same. Okay, fine, you’re right. I won’t speak to them again without Mac. Yes, we are still on for lunch. I will see you at noon. Alex, do you think this has anything to do with… Okay, we’ll talk about it later.”

  I stood silently as I listened to the last part of Adam’s conversation. What did he mean by asking Alex if he thought “It” had anything to do with… With what? I closed the door quietly and hurriedly dried myself off and slipped into the robe I kept hanging in the bathroom. When I opened the door to the bedroom, he was no longer there. I found him in the kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee.

  “Hi,” he said with a smile when he saw me. “You want coffee?”

  “Yes, please.” His smile took me somewhat aback at first, but I was glad to see it.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked as he handed me a mug.

  “Like I drank a bottle of whiskey last night,” he said with another smile. I couldn’t help myself, I smiled back.

  “Me, too,” I told him. He sat his cup down and opened his arms. I melded into him and wished that we could stay right there like that all day.

  Adam kissed the side of my face. “I better let you get ready for work.”

  I sighed. “Yes, I suppose I should. I heard you speaking to Alex earlier, is there anything I should know?”

  Adam looked at me like he wasn’t going to answer before he said, “No, honey. I’m just getting a little paranoid, I guess. I was asking Alex if he thought Marjorie’s death had anything to do with my involvement with the oil spill and the Presidential campaign. We’re getting so much bad press and pressure from all types of radical groups. What happened to Vick… Anyways, he assured me that what happened to Vick, and ultimately to Marjorie, are very likely not connected.”

  He put his hand on the back of my head, and pulling me gently towards him, he placed his lips firmly on my forehead. “Just be alert, and always careful. I couldn’t bear it if anything ever happened to you.”

  I just nodded slowly. I didn’t know what to say to that. I hadn’t even considered the possibility that I might be in any type of danger. I was well aware that politics, big business, and massive amounts of money could make people do crazy things, but Adam wasn’t so involved in any of it that someone would want to hurt people he was close to, was he? We were simply the attorneys…right?

  I gave him a soft kiss on the lips and said, “You be careful.”

  ********

  My meeting with Miles was actually short and painless. He’d asked me to meet him at the bakery near my office and we talked over croissants and coffee. He assured me that he was going to keep his mouth shut. I think the arrest had scared him a little once he was faced with the real possibility of jail time.

  We set up another meeting before his arraignment the following week, and I gathered my things and headed down toward the office. I was walking across the courtyard when I saw something that stopped me in my tracks.

  Two men were standing near the edge of the sidewalk. I was too far away to hear what we were saying, but the man facing me looked agitated and the man with his back to me was waving his arms as he talked. They were both well dressed, and I absolutely recognized the one facing me as Alex. The other, although I couldn’t see his face, closely resembled Jack. I stood watching for a minute hoping the man would turn towards me.

  They seemed to have reached a boiling point though and the man facing away from me pushed his body up against Alex in an aggressive nature. I was sure we were about to come to blows when suddenly, the other man stepped back and shoved past Alex, taking off down the sidewalk at a hurried pace.

  Alex stood there watching him go for a few seconds, and then glancing in both directions quickly, he hurried across the street away from the courtyard. His eyes skimmed across me, but the courtyard was already filling with people in business attire and I don’t think he realized it was me.

  I was confused. I didn’t think that Alex and Jack knew each other. What could they possibly have to argue about? I told myself that maybe I had been mistaken about it being Jack. After all, I hadn’t seen the other man’s face. Maybe it hadn’t been Jack at all, but whoever it was is not a fan of Alex, that was for sure.

  I continued my walk to the office, and when I saw the reporters out front, I cringed. Fortunately, our security was there, as well, and they forced the crowd to clear a path for me to the door. They couldn’t stop the reporters from yelling out their intrusive and insulting questions and comments, however.

  “Ms. Winston, did Mr. Hanson kill his wife? Are you sleeping with him? Were you sleeping with him while we were still together? Was he getting back together with her? Did you assault her in your office yesterday?”

  I had seen plenty of media circuses in my few years as an attorney, but had never been at the center of one myself. It was disturbing, but I tried to practice what I always told my clients, “Hold your head up, act like they’re not there, don’t respond, and don’t take any of it personally.” My own advice was harder to take than I had ever known. Just as the door was opened for me by the building doorman, Rose Dugan came up behind me and asked,

  “Ms. Winston, did you kill Marjorie Hanson?”

  I looked in her direction, but thankfully caught myself before I replied. Don’t let her get to you, I told myself and continued into the office. I breathed a long sigh of relief as the doors swung closed behind me.

  Carla was at her desk as usual with my messages sorted and ready for me. As she said good morning and handed them to me, she asked, “How are you doing?”

  I smiled at her. “I see you’ve heard what happened last night?” When she nodded, I said, “I’m doing as well as you would expect. I do appreciate you asking.”

  Once I was in my office with the door closed and hopefully the world shut out for the time being, I took out my file on Miles V. I flipped through the pages until I got to the statements that Miles IV and his daughter had given to police the day after Miles’ third wife was killed. I winced as I read the words the police had taken down as they spoke to Miles IV.

  “Mr. Brigham, why was your wife out climbing in the wilderness, along a steep cliff, alone?”

  “Because she was a spoiled, selfish little viper,” Miles had told them, as if a matter of fact.

  “And by that, you mean what?” the detective had asked him.

  “Just what the hell I said. We had an argument, about money, again. She spent my money like there was going to be no end to it. We had planned on a climbing trip that day to de-stress. What a joke that was. I got to listen to her bitch and whine and pout until I could hardl
y stand it any longer. She gave me an out by telling me to go on and leave her alone. I did just that. When I got back to the lodge later and found out she hadn’t returned, though, I went right back out to look for her.”

  “And discovered her, dead,” the detective had said. “Mr. Brigham, do you believe your wife’s death was an accident?”

  “If you’re asking me if I think someone killed her, the answer is no. No one cared enough about her to even expend the energy, I think. She just shouldn’t a been out there alone. She was stupid, plain and simple. I was stupid to for leaving her out there and I feel bad about that, but you have to believe me that girl was proof positive you can take the girl outta the trailer, but you can’t take the trailer outta the girl.”

  It went on like that for three pages. I sat it down for a few seconds and massaged the leftover headache behind my eyes.

  I just couldn’t believe that a man could be so smart in business and finance that he had amassed a veritable fortune, and yet he could also be completely ignorant to the fact that you couldn’t just go around saying whatever you felt like, giving no consideration to what it may make people think of you or what the consequences may be. I was about to pick the file back up to continue reading when my phone rang. It was the investigator, Brett.

  “Ms. Winston, I found out why the feds are interested in David Tyler.”

  “Why?” I asked, anxious to hear the answer.

  “Mr. Tyler apparently has some information with regards to a fortune in missing campaign contributions. Mr. Brigham’s money was apparently not the only funds Mr. Landon had misappropriated, and Tyler has agreed to testify before the Grand Jury regarding all of that, as well as naming others that were allegedly involved.”