“She left.”
“What do you mean, she left?”
“She moved out.”
Frustration made Griffin’s nostrils flare. “Are you lying to me?”
The man crossed his arms and glared back at Griffin. “You calling me a liar?”
He was, actually. But he wasn’t going to get anywhere accusing this man. So he pulled out his wallet and opened it . . . and frowned because it was empty. Goddamn it. “Wait right here,” he told the man.
Ten minutes later, he’d borrowed cash from his driver and returned to the landlord’s door. He peeled several twenties off the stack and held them out to the man. “I want to see her apartment.”
The man regarded him as if he were a dirty pervert, and for a moment, he felt like one. But he thought of the newspaper she’d left behind, and the clues it had offered him. Perhaps she’d left other things as well. Perhaps this man was lying to him because Maylee had asked him to.
He had to know.
So he followed the sleazy landlord to the back of the building and watched as the man opened a rickety door with a set of keys. He pushed it open and gestured at Griffin. “Don’t make a mess in there, buddy.”
Griffin grimaced. Did he think he was going to jerk off on Maylee’s things? He made a mental note to see about buying this building. Hunter would know how real estate worked. Right now, Griffin’s main thought was getting that landlord out of here. If he would take a couple of bills and show a woman’s apartment to a stranger, Maylee wasn’t safe here.
He walked in to her apartment. It didn’t take much, considering it was one small, dirty windowless room. He was appalled at the sight of it, the cracks in the walls, the water damage in the corner of the ceiling. There was no bathroom, no closet, no nothing. A mattress lay on the floor, the only thing remaining in the room. Despite the small dankness of the place, it was clean.
He couldn’t imagine his sunny Maylee here in this pit.
“Do you want to stay here alone for a while?” the man behind him asked. “I can look the other way for the right price.”
Griffin gave the man a scathing look, ignoring his question. “She left nothing here?”
“Nothing,” he said. “She left in a hurry. Probably got fired from her job.” He snorted in derision.
Griffin’s jaw tensed with anger. “Thank you. You’ve been most helpful.” He turned and stalked out of the hole of her apartment, angrier than ever.
You can be as mean to me as you want, Mr. Griffin, but I’m going to do my job to the best of my ability, no matter how nasty you are.
She’d put up with everything to succeed here, and he’d somehow destroyed that—and her heart—in one fell swoop.
Angry at the world, but mostly at himself, Griffin went back to his sedan. As he got in and waved the driver to return to his townhouse, he began to text Hunter.
Tell Gretchen I’m a dick. And ask her if I can please have Maylee’s home address. Her home in . . . wherever in God’s name she would have gone back to. Arkansas? Louisiana? One of those places where they all talk like she does.
Soft, sweet, and adorable.
Griffin ran a hand down his face. He really was a f**king prat, wasn’t he?
***
“The Brotherhood’s going to be light one member tonight,” Reese said as he lit his cigar. “Jonathan ran off on one of his half-cocked trips again.”
Griffin frowned at his cards. He’d been waiting for Jonathan to show up so he could talk to him about their joint dig. But he found that he didn’t give much of a shit at the moment. Maylee’s missing presence was gnawing at him like an ache. He could talk about archeology any time, but now he just wanted his girlfriend back.
Was that what Maylee was to him? Griffin scowled at his hand of cards, not even seeing them. Girlfriend seemed like the wrong word. It was too frivolous, too silly for how he felt at the moment.
All he knew was that he needed Maylee, and she was gone because he’d hurt her. And he needed to fix it.
Logan eyed him from across the table, frowning. “You going to bid, Griff?”
Griffin stared at his cards, still not seeing them, and gave up. He folded and waved a hand at the table, and Cade and Reese tossed their chips in after Logan.
The basement door opened, and Griffin looked up, his heart slamming. He wanted to see Hunter tonight . . . but more than that, he wanted to see Gretchen. Maybe they would know something.
The person he’d been waiting to see walked down the stairs—Hunter. The scarred, broody billionaire shrugged off his sport coat and tossed it onto a nearby chair, and then sat down at the table.
A moment later, lighter feet thumped down the stairs. “Save me a spot, baby!”
Logan groaned. Cade grinned, and Reese kept his expression carefully neutral as his new sister-in-law, Gretchen Petty, bounded into the room and sat at the table, her voice breathless. “Sorry I’m late. I had to take a wicked piss.”
“Thank you for sharing,” Logan said in a dry voice. He shot a look at Hunter. “I wasn’t aware you were coming to every meeting from now on, Gretchen.”
“I invited her,” Hunter said, glaring back at Logan.
“You know Griff and Jonathan don’t like her here. We’re brothers first and foremost.”
“I’m fine with it,” Griffin said, speaking up. He watched Gretchen, trying not to seem too hopeful. He didn’t want her to leave, not tonight. He wanted her to stay so he could weasel information about Maylee out of her.
Gretchen noticed Griffin and beamed a too-sweet smile in his direction. “Hello, dickface.”
“Is that really necessary—” Cade began.
“It’s fine,” Griffin said in a weary voice. “I seem to be on the shit list of several females lately.”
“Oh, shit,” Reese said. He leaned over and elbowed Griffin. “What did you do? Too much pu**y back in the home country?”
Griffin glared at Reese. That was a little too close to the mark.
Gretchen scooted her chair in between Reese and Hunter, deliberately ignoring the conversation. “So what are we playing? Slapjack?”
“Slapjack?” Reese gave her an incredulous look. “Are you f**king high? It’s poker!”
“We should play slapjack,” Gretchen said. “Hunter would be awesome at it. He’s got a really strong right hand. All those years of jerking off—”
“Gretchen,” Hunter said mildly, cutting her off. But his mouth twitched, and Griffin suspected he was laughing inwardly.
“What? Isn’t this how guys talk with one another? All sex and broads talk?” She winked at Hunter and reached over to stroke his thigh under the table.
At least, Griffin hoped to hell that it was his thigh.
“We’re playing poker,” Reese repeated. “Or at least, some of us are. Some of us are just folding at the start of every round.” And he scowled in Griffin’s direction.
“He’s mad at himself because he’s a dickface,” Gretchen said again.
“Isn’t it interesting that every time Gretchen shows up, she makes the entire meeting about her?” Cade’s words were teasing. He and Gretchen were old friends.
“I’m my own favorite subject,” she agreed, and Hunter put a hand around her shoulders protectively. As if that horrific female needed protecting, Griffin thought to himself. She was like a rabid animal even on her good days.
“So why is Griffin a dickface?” Logan asked.
“Other than the usual,” Reese said with a grin.
“He borrowed Hunter’s secretary for his trip, f**ked her, and then fired her,” Gretchen declared.
“Goddamn it,” Griffin said, his temper finally flaring. “I didn’t f**k her, and I certainly did not fire her.”
“If you didn’t f**k her, then why are you so moody?” Logan asked.
“Blue balls,” Reese chimed in.
Griffin glared at Reese again. “Shouldn’t you be at home with your pregnant wife?”
“Brotherhood meeting tonight. Very important stuff.” He chewed on his cigar with a wink. “Plus, I’m not getting any right now. Audrey’s got morning sickness night and day. So I might as well be here.”
“Spoken like a true gentleman,” Cade murmured.
“Oh, f**k off,” Reese said in a cheery voice. “After we get out of here, I’m going to that pickle place she loves on the Upper West Side for her. And then I’m stopping to get her ice cream. I should be f**king sainted after all that.”
“I’m still not clear on why we’re all mad at Griffin for not f**king his assistant,” Logan said.
“Maybe she really wanted sex and Griffin denied her because he’s got a massive stick up his ass,” Gretchen mused. “Whatever it was, he made her quit and she ran back home, and now my poor sweetie doesn’t have an assistant at his office.” She gave Hunter a soft look. “I’m helping out, but we’re not getting much work done.”
“Oversharing, sweetheart,” Hunter murmured.
“You love it,” Gretchen said with a wink. And she stroked his thigh again.
“At any rate, I came here tonight to pass on a nugget of advice,” Gretchen said brightly, and her gaze narrowed back in on Griffin. “I know Maylee. I like Maylee. I hate that you hurt her. But I can see you’re not all sunshine and roses at the moment either, so I hope you’re as messed up over her leaving as she is. And I just want to say that if you like her? Go after her and show it. You’re kind of shitty at that whole ‘likability’ thing.”
“Gretchen,” Hunter murmured again.
“It’s true,” she protested. “He’s about as warm and friendly as a popsicle.”
Griffin considered this. Gretchen, in her uncouth way, had hit the nail on the head. He was terrible at showing affection. It wasn’t in his nature, and his war with his lineage and what was expected and proper for that compared to what was expected in a normal relationship didn’t mesh. She was right. He wasn’t good at this.
And maybe, for Maylee’s sake, he needed to try harder. Would it have killed him to hold her hand when she’d wanted it held? It would have meant so much to her, and he wouldn’t be in the situation he was now.
Why in the hell had he cared so much? Why did it matter what people in Bellissime thought of him? He didn’t live there anymore, didn’t want to live there anymore, so why had he panicked when she’d tried to show a little public affection?
“Well?” Gretchen challenged.
“Stunningly good advice, actually,” Griffin said. “Thank you, Gretchen.”
She blinked. “Okay, I admit, I wasn’t expecting that. But since you were a good boy and all, you get a treat.” And she pulled a folded piece of paper out of her pocket and slid it toward him.
Griffin stared at it for a long moment, and then reached out to take it in hand. He opened it slowly and stared at it. There was an address—an Arkansas one. He looked up at Gretchen’s sly face. “I could kiss you right now.”
“But you won’t,” Hunter said, and pulled his woman closer.
Gretchen just looked smug. “Go get ’er, tiger.”
***
Maylee woke up to wet, sloppy licks on her face from her coonhound. She rolled over on the futon, trying to get comfortable and away from Bubba’s enthusiastic tongue. “Go away, puppy.”
The dog whined and licked her arm instead.
Groaning, Maylee dragged herself out of bed. “Fine, fine. Bathroom time.” She padded across the floor of the single-wide trailer to let Bubba outside for a quick pee. The dog disappeared into the underbrush with an excited woof as soon as the door was opened, and Maylee stood on the porch, arms crossed, yawning, as she tried to wake up.