by Katie Knight
“Devon might have been murdered,” she said, watching him closely. “I don’t have direct proof, but based on the pieces of evidence I have, I think it’s possible.”
“What evidence could there be?” Drake scooted forward in his seat, his tone gruffer than he’d intended due to the shock. “The coroner ruled it an accident. They found traces of alcohol in my brother’s system and think it was a factor. They know he was speeding. He was also dictating a text on his phone at the time he went off the road, so he was distracted. Seems pretty cut and dried to me. And anyway, why would anyone try to kill him? I know he wasn’t everyone’s favorite guy, but murder seems extreme.”
“I think maybe he was involved in something dangerous. Something that got out of hand. There were things happening at the charity that weren’t right.” She used her hands a lot as she talked, moving them around and placing them on her stomach periodically. “Part of my job was to keep abreast of how the grant money the foundation received was disbursed, what organizations and causes we supported. Millions of dollars flow through the charity every year. And I noticed that this past year or so, some of the biggest recipients of the foundation’s money didn’t seem to have any presence at all beyond a bare-bones website. When I first asked Devon about it, he blew me off. Later, when I showed him specific examples, he assured me he’d signed off on all of the disbursements and that they were going to legitimate organizations. Then I got busy with a bunch of new projects Devon dumped on me, and then we started seeing each other outside of work, and I forgot about it. Until the Romanian orphanage.”
Drake inhaled deeply. So yeah. She’d been sleeping with his brother. For some reason, the confirmation of it bothered him more than he cared to admit. Still, donations from the charitable arm of the company to some far-off country did seem a bit odd. He hadn’t exactly kept up with the operations of the foundation, but his parents had enjoyed bragging about everything their money had accomplished. They usually went for things closer to home that would create positive press coverage for the company, like local art museums and hospitals. “Romanian orphanage?”
“Yes. It had all the same hallmarks as the early cases, though it was a much larger amount donated than the previous ones, so I’d brought the similarities to Devon—no real press available on the orphanage, only a website, no real mailing address or physical place of business that I was able to track down. It’s not uncommon for charities to be duped by nefarious organizations, so I thought Devon should know about it to protect the foundation’s funds and integrity. I called Devon the week before last and talked to him about it and he said he’d look into it. The next day, he was dead.”
“I see.” Drake scrubbed a hand over his face, more exhausted now than he’d been before. He wasn’t sure if it was the drink or the grief or the current conversation catching up with him, but whatever it was, he was tired. Tired of dealing with his family’s shit. Tired of cleaning up after his brother. Tired of being the only Shepperton who seemed to give a crap about integrity.
“I’m sure this is hard to hear, especially at a time like this, but I thought you should know, since you’re taking over the company.” She sighed and hugged her arms around herself tighter. “You should also know that I think whoever killed Devon is also after me.”
“What?” His gaze flew to hers again and she placed her hands atop her stomach again. That was odd. Either she was sick, or scared he’d strike her—or both. Lord knew he felt like vomiting himself right about now. The fear in her eyes said she was serious about what she’d said, though. This wasn’t a conspiracy theory, and she wasn’t jumping to conclusions or being overdramatic. She truly thought Devon had gotten mixed up in something that had gotten him killed—and that she was now being targeted by the killers. “Why would someone want to kill you?”
“Because of what I found. I think that’s why they killed Devon, and now they want to shut me up too. If my suspicions are correct, they have been using Shepperton Foundation to launder money. I don’t know if your brother knew about it or not, but I think that they took him out to keep him from talking. I think they want to do the same to me.”
“Then you should go to the police, not to me.” He pushed to his feet, needing to move in order to process all this. “They can help you.”
“No, they can’t,” she said. “Or they won’t. They told me that until these people, whoever they are, threaten me directly—preferably in writing—or commit actual physical acts of violence against me, there’s nothing they can do to help.”
“Dammit.” Drake wanted to punch something, namely his brother, for once again getting himself mixed up in another mess. But since that wasn’t an option, he slammed one fist into his palm instead. Lake recoiled into the corner of the sofa as if he’d struck her and his anger grew. Not at her, but at whoever had hit her before, because obviously someone had. Reactions like that were learned, through hard experience. It hadn’t been Devon, he didn’t think, but it was possible. His disgust at his family grew stronger. “Has anyone actually threatened you—verbally or indirectly?”
“No, not exactly.”
“Not exactly?”
“I mean, I’m pretty sure someone is following me. I can feel that I’m being watched. Not just outside of work but at the office too. Oh, and someone broke into the foundation’s headquarters the day after Devon died and went through our files. Nothing was taken, but it seemed suspicious to me.”
To Drake too, though he was loath to admit it. The last thing he needed right now was some mystery to solve on behalf of his shady brother. All he wanted was to settle things here and find a replacement CEO for the company so he could get back to his SEAL team. “Well, I don’t know what you expect me to do about it. I’ve got my hands full with settling my brother’s estate and putting his affairs in order so I can get back to my life.” He felt bad for the obviously frightened woman, but he honestly didn’t know what she wanted from him. He wasn’t a criminal investigator. He wasn’t even staying on to run the company. If there was something underhanded going on, it wouldn’t be up to him to figure it out—it would be the responsibility of whoever ended up taking over Shepperton, Inc.
A moment passed before Lake Bailey stood and stepped closer to him, her hands covering her abdomen again. Something about that made his own stomach drop to his toes this time. Or maybe that was the resigned, flat look in her eyes. Whatever it was, her next words rocked his universe on its axis.
“There’s something else you need to know about my situation right now,” she said, her words echoing in the quiet room. “I’m pregnant. With Devon’s baby.”
Two
Oh boy. She hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, but he had been looking at her like he was going to toss her out on her butt at any minute and she’d needed him to know, needed someone to know, in case something happened to her and… God, this was all such a mess.
Dizziness overtook her again. Lake gripped the back of the armchair and forced herself to breathe, nice and slow until the nausea subsided. She hated coming across as weak or fragile, but it was genuinely a struggle to hold herself together right now. She’d been thrown off balance from the moment Drake Shepperton had opened the door—she hadn’t been prepared for him to look exactly like Devon. It was like seeing the man’s ghost or something. Like she wasn’t freaked out enough about everything happening in her life right now.
“Jesus,” Drake finally said, his expression as poleaxed as she felt. “Is it money you want?”
Most people would have been insulted by that, but Lake could understand where he was coming from. He’d grown up with wealth. He was probably used to it being the first thing that people thought of. Instead of lashing out in response, she maintained her calm and lifted her chin. “I’m not a gold-digger, if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t want anything from you or your family, other than help in figuring out who killed your brother—and who might, in turn, be after me and his child. Once that’s done, I’ll be out of your
life forever.”
He gave a derisive snort. “Sure. Right. The fact you’re carrying the rightful heir to the Shepperton fortune never entered your mind, huh?”
“No, it didn’t.” She pressed both hands over her non-existent baby bump again. It was still early days—she wasn’t more than eight weeks along, according her doctor—but she already loved her baby more than life itself, even if the circumstances of her pregnancy weren’t the best. Her fling with Devon had ended way before she’d even missed a period, let alone had a positive pregnancy test. Then he’d died before she’d had a chance to figure out how to tell him, and now she was on her own to deal with the situation. Not that she would have expected him to help with the baby, but still—at least her baby would have had a father, even if he wasn’t very involved. Now, her baby only had her. She’d have to figure out how to do this on her own, just like she’d done everything else in her life since the age of sixteen. “Look, I know this is all a lot to take in, but I’m telling you the truth. About the money and about my baby. If you want me to sign something saying I won’t come after the estate, then I’m happy to do so. If you want me to take a paternity test, I will, but I swear I’ve not been with anyone but Devon for a while now.”
Drake gave her some side-eye on that, and she wanted to kick him. Or kick herself for thinking coming here tonight was a good idea. But mainly him. How dare he judge her and assume she was dishonest or greedy when his own family had enough skeletons to fill a square-mile closet.
Of course, if he knew the secrets about her past, he’d be more than justified in looking at her in distrust. But no one knew those anymore, after all the work she’d done to separate herself from who she used to be. She’d changed her name, moved across the country, rebuilt herself from the ground up and damn well earned everything she’d gotten for herself since then. All so that no one would ever have the slightest reason to suspect that her parents were some of the most reviled grifters of the last two decades.
Lake was a different person from the scared kid who’d gone along with her failed-magician dad to his fake seminars on financial freedom while her mom ushered those too-trusting senior citizens in to fill the chairs. They’d run Ponzi schemes that would make Bernie Madoff blush as they stripped people’s pensions away. And they’d gotten caught. Mom and Dad had been in prison for fourteen years now and had at least that long to go on their sentences.
Meanwhile, their daughter had made herself over fresh. She was Lake Bailey, self-made woman. She’d put herself through college, gotten a respectable job at a respectable company where she gave money to people in need rather than draining it away from them. Taking one damn penny that she hadn’t earned was the last thing Lake was willing to do now. And that was why the only thing she needed from Drake Shepperton was his protection, until she had the proof she needed to get law enforcement involved. In the meantime, he could keep his judgment and his millions to himself.
They stared at each other across the span of several feet until Drake finally swore under his breath and turned away, raking his hand through his hair again. He was so similar to Devon in a lot of ways, but also different. Where Devon had always been so polished, never a hair out of place, Drake was rougher, more feral. At least it seemed that way to Lake, with the way he was always growling and scowling. Or that could have to do with the fact he’d just lost his brother. She wasn’t sure, but at this point she’d give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Will you at least help me get to the bottom of these weird donations?” she asked. “Maybe I’m wrong about the rest—maybe Devon’s death really was an accident and no one’s following me after all.” She wasn’t wrong—but she wasn’t going to be able to convince him of that, which meant she was on her own. So be it. She was used to taking care of herself. She could keep doing it a little longer, with his assistance. Hopefully, by then they’d have enough evidence that she could go back to the cops and convince them she had a case. “But the donations are a problem that needs to be resolved. I really think there’s something not right there.”
He glanced over at her, then shook his head and returned to his seat. She did the same, feeling shaky and out of sorts. Whether it was because of the pregnancy or the situation, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was the past few weeks or so had thrown her for a hell of a loop and she just wanted her old, boring life back. The life she’d had pre-Devon.
Too bad it would be at least seven months now before that happened, if not longer.
Lake sighed and covered her face. Oh, who was she kidding? She’d kissed that life goodbye the second she’d slept with Devon Shepperton and it wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon. It was the bad decision that kept on giving.
With a grunt, Drake stood, grabbed her glass off the table and went to the kitchen. He refilled it, then returned and handed it to her. “Drink that. Looks like you’re going to pass out on me.”
“I’m fine.”
“Do it anyway. Please. I really don’t need a pregnant woman face down on my floor.”
She wanted to argue, but the fight had gone out of her. She sipped the water, watching him over the rim. He’d been shocked by her announcements, both the suggestion his brother’s accident might not have been an accident at all and her pregnancy news. In retrospect, she supposed it was a lot to throw at him all at once. She was a little relieved that he hadn’t thrown her out of the house, or just laughed at her and shut the door in her face. His response hadn’t exactly been warm, but he’d heard her out, brought her water, shown some concern over her well-being. If the situation had been reversed, she doubted Devon would have been this patient with one of his brother’s paramours.
Lake didn’t know much about Drake Shepperton. In the short time she’d been sleeping with Devon, he’d rarely mentioned anything personal, let alone things about his family. He’d mentioned his brother was in the military, a Navy SEAL, but that was about it. Certainly nothing about them being twins, thus her near faceplant on the front porch when he’d answered the door.
He cracked open a bottled water and downed half the contents before meeting her gaze once more. She felt kind of bad for him, actually. She knew firsthand the way it felt when your family let you down, trapping you in a mess that wasn’t of your making. And Drake seemed like a decent enough guy, not that she knew him well. But you had to have some kind of moral code to be a SEAL, right?
“So,” he said, after a long beat, looking at her over the rim of his bottle, his brown eyes unreadable. “You said someone’s been watching you? Have they tried to break into your home like they did the foundation offices?”
“No. Not that I’m aware of. I live in a co-op building with a doorman who screens all visitors. The guards would’ve mentioned something, I’d think, if some stranger showed up while I wasn’t home, asking about my place. And I haven’t noticed any signs that things have been moved or searched.”
“Do you have a security system at your place, outside the doorman?” His concern was something else at odds with his brother. Despite the few nights they’d spent together, Devon had never once asked about her life when they were apart, let alone her welfare. He’d liked having sex with her, that was about it. Drake’s seemingly genuine concern for a woman he’d only just met, coupled with his near-identical appearance to Devon, was unsettling. When she didn’t respond, he continued. “If you’re on the first floor, it would be easy enough for someone to jimmy a window to get in. Even on the second floor, it’s not impossible for someone to scale the wall and enter your place without the guards knowing. I’m a SEAL, I know there are ways to get in to just about anywhere without being detected.”
Great. Just what she needed. More to worry about. Luckily, that problem was already resolved. “I’ve actually been staying at a hotel since the night Devon died.” At his curious look, she explained, “Like I said, I was scared whoever killed him would come after me next, so I packed a bag and moved into the Hilton downtown.”
Drake whistled. “The Hilto
n? That’s not cheap.”
“No, but I’ve felt safe there.” She shrugged. “I could find a cheaper motel, but I’d feel just as exposed there as I did at home. I’d hoped that once the police started investigating, I’d feel safe enough to go back to my place. But that hasn’t happened, and my savings are running low. I’ll need to go back to my place soon. Or find somewhere else to stay until all of this is over.”
He blinked at her a moment then frowned. “Stay here.”
“What?” Now it was her turn to be shocked again. “I can’t stay here.”
“Why not?” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his ale bottle dangling from his long, tapered fingers. The recessed lighting overhead highlighted his muscles and sinews, not that she noticed. Nope. Definitely not looking at how buff he was. Superficially, his physique was the same as Devon—same broad shoulders, toned biceps, firm chest. But something about the impression of his strength was entirely different. Drake had come by his toned physique the honest way, she was sure, whereas Devon had honed his bod through hours at the gym, staring at himself in the mirror. She’d had to go with him once—they’d been in the middle of discussing plans for a fundraiser when he’d said he absolutely had to leave because he had plans with his trainer. Finishing the conversation had meant tagging along. It had not been what Lake would have called fun.
Drake continued, drawing her back to the present. “I’ve been clearing this place out to sell it. There’s plenty of room and it would be nice to have someone to talk to besides myself. The building is very secure, and the address isn’t publicly tied to Devon, much less to you. Besides, even if someone were to follow you and find out where you were staying, with me here, damned sure no one’s breaking in. With you being…” he waved a hand over her vaguely. “Well, in your condition, I’d feel better having you where I can keep an eye on you anyway, until this is all settled one way or another.”