“What?”
“Bribing someone to look away on the expressway requires substantial cash.”
“Oh.” So even the Lawmen weren’t necessarily trustworthy.
He helped her up into a Brumby—a lighter, more agile version of the Stallion—took the driver’s seat.
It wasn’t until they were on the expressway that she started shaking. It started with her hands, travelling up her arms, until her entire body was afflicted. Peirce didn’t look away from the road. He just took her hand and began rubbing her knuckles with his thumb.
“Honey, it’s okay. It’s just the adrenaline wearing off. You’ll be fine.”
It took a while, but her body eventually calmed down, leaving her exhausted. Only then did she notice the familiar sights. “Where are we going?”
He was smirking, but wouldn’t turn to look at her. “A place I know your father won’t look.”
“Where’s that?”
“Your country estate.”
There were probably better ways he could have gone about it, Peirce thought to himself as he watched Emma sleeping beside him. It had taken a while to calm her down and convince her that her father wasn’t smart enough to look for her somewhere he’d already searched. In fact, with Emma’s stubborn streak, it took far longer than he’d wanted, especially since he still needed to give Douglass and Kai the new plan.
Getting out of the bed was hard and only partially because she’d cosied up to him in her sleep. It was strange after so many years alone, but feeling her warmth beside him, hearing her steady breathing...it seemed natural.
He shook his head. I’m turning into Douglass. Soon I’ll be painting pictures of kittens and butterflies and frigging daffodils.
He padded softly down the hall to one of several massive libraries. He had the tablet up and running in no time. Douglass picked up right away.
“Yessir?”
“We’re back at the Gregson estate,” Peirce began. Douglass wouldn’t care if he skipped the niceties.
“Do you need me or Kai to head out there tonight?”
“Not tonight but see if you can swing by tomorrow—either of you.”
“At least one of us will be there.”
“Good. Right now I need your tech skills.”
The dim lights behind Douglass’s head changed into a full-fledged glow from the multiple screens he booted up. “Go ahead,” he said, voice detached like it always got when he was on a new job.
“Look deeper into Arthur Gregson’s finances. Emma said the mine was a business venture gone wrong; he could be in debt to others we don’t know about.”
“What else?”
“I need to know more about a Charles Riecher. Son of a bitch nearly killed her down there.”
“Shit,” Douglass muttered.
“He’s dead.” Peirce didn’t bother to hide his satisfaction. “But I don’t know if he had a connection to Arthur. And Emma’s clear of the whole thing, so don’t send up red flags.”
“Got it.”
“I want any news ASAP.”
“Yessir.”
Peirce powered down the tablet and rubbed a hand over his face, intent on getting back to bed and catching a few more hours of shut eye before he had to determine his next move. This was the part he hated most—the interminable wait before the battle began. It didn’t matter how many strategies, contingencies, alternate contingencies he’d planned because at some point, it would all be out of his hands.