Page 25 of Clever Deceit

“Yep. Left half an hour ago. Longest half hour of my life.”

He pulled me away from Silver and held me to his body, his face concerned. “Does it bother you to be here alone?”

“It didn't used to. But now, with everything that's happening... Every time you're gone, I feel like something might happen,” I admitted. “Yes, it bothers me to be here alone.”

He kissed me gently, his lips barely a breath against mine, and then pulled me into a hug. “I won't let anything happen to you,” he said against my hair. “And that's a promise, Lily. You can take that to the bank.”

I let him hug me, reveling in the warm, solid feeling of him and the idea that he wouldn't let anything happen. Was it cliché and slightly embarrassing to be so soothed by a big, strong man saying that he was going to take care of me?

Maybe.

Did I regret it?

No. I'd seen too much and felt too much to sniff at the idea of someone saying they were going to keep me safe. And I'd never, ever feel embarrassed about leaning into Warren and depending on him for support. He was one of the first people I'd ever met that I truly trusted, and everything inside me wanted to snuggle into him and let him protect me for the rest of my life.

Though before I could do that, we had to meet with Richard and find out what he'd learned about Tony and Mark McCarthy.

“When is your friend getting here?” I asked.

Warren glanced down at his watch. “Any minute.”

At that moment, we heard the sound of an engine in the driveway and hustled out to see a large black truck coming in way too quickly. The truck jerked to a stop in a cloud of dust, and someone inside threw open the driver's side door. He jumped out a moment later and moved quickly toward us before we'd so much as stepped onto the driveway itself.

I watched him come, confused and interested. This was going to be the first time I'd ever met one of Warren's friends—or anyone else from the military—and I had to admit that I was curious. What sort of person was this Richard guy? Serious and thoughtful like Warren? Or...

“Warren!” the man roared before he'd emerged from the dust cloud. “How the hell are you?”

Okay, not serious and thoughtful.

Big and stomping around in cowboy boots and wearing a cowboy hat, he had a drooping mustache and fierce blue eyes and looked more like a rancher defending his cattle than an ex-special-ops Marine.

I glanced from this giant to Warren, wondering who exactly Warren had been when he was in the Middle East that he was friends with such a person. Then Richard started talking, and I could see exactly why they'd been friends.

“I tell you what, you sure can pick 'em,” he said when he got close enough. “Those names you sent me? Those guys? They've got their hands in so many pickle jars I didn't even try to count them. They're trouble, Warren, and I hope you've got your back covered because you're going to need it.”

“In that case, let's not talk about them out here where anyone might be listening,” Warren said tersely. “You know better.”

I saw the flash of a grin under that huge mustache, and the man's eyes turned to me. “Not until you've introduced me.”

“Richard, Lily. Lily, Richard,” Warren growled. “There. Done. Can we go inside now?”

I pressed my lips together and widened my eyes at Richard, indicating that we'd best keep our mouths shut if Warren was going to be so serious. Richard chuckled and winked at me, then followed Warren into the house.

I hurried after him, not wanting to miss a single thing he said. The guy might look like a rancher, but I was starting to think that it might just be a disguise. Because the way he'd spoken about Tony and Mark indicated that he had more experience than I could ever dream of.

I couldn't wait to hear what he thought we could do with the information he'd found.

“Shell companies. At least ten of them,” he was saying when I got into the living room.

Warren and I dropped onto the couch, and Richard took one of the armchairs, leaning forward to spread a number of papers on the table. “I've also got the receipts for checks made directly to the police department here in town. Enormous amounts. I'm guessing they'd pretend they were just charitable donations, but these are bigger than anything I've ever seen. They're also bigger than the entire PD budget.”

He looked up and met Warren's eyes, something passing between them in the moment. I didn't have to ask. Mark and Tony were writing checks to the police department that were larger than the department's budget.

Which meant those checks weren't being handed to the police department itself.

They were going into someone else's account.

Or multiple someone elses.