Page 73

Or something that happened after I left?

Did my leaving cause it?

“Thank you,” I tell him.

“Anytime, Big Brother.” He looks past me. “Wheels up as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir,” the pilot replies.

“Come, have a seat.” Presley guides Dahlia forward. When he places a hand on her lower back, it’s all I can do not to rip her from his grasp.

“Thanks. It’s been a rough morning, but this was a nice surprise.”

“How was it rough?” Presley takes a seat beside her, so I drop down across from them both. He’s messing with me. It’s easy enough to see that, but it certainly doesn’t make me want to throw him off of this plane any less.

“I see we’ve moved on from you thinking she’s a drug addict,” I blurt.

Presley grins at me. “I had my people do some more digging. Turns out, Miss Swanson has never been anything but an upstanding citizen.”

“Thank you,” she replies.

“So, back to this rough morning,” Presley says. “I’m assuming this has to do with the nursing home jailbreak?”

“Retirement community,” Dahlia corrects. “And yes. Turns out Phillip Prescott was my grandfather.”

Based on her tone, I’m not entirely sure she’s even finished processing it, but even Presley looks surprised. Which absolutely delights me.

“Really?” He turns to me, the arrogance that was on his face only moments ago slipping away. “You’re thinking it’s the lawyer that ordered the hit?”

“That’s our guess. Sawyer is digging into it.”

“I’ll see what I can find out, too. He was on my suspect list already.”

“I didn’t realize you were taking Dahlia’s safety so seriously.”

“It wasn’t her safety that originally alerted me,” he replies.

I take a deep breath. I love my brother—I always have and always will. But mistaking him for the ten-year-old boy he was when he nearly died could be dangerous. Over the years, I kept tabs on him just as he did me.

He joined the Marines, then got out and transitioned into a military contractor. That’s where the bulk of his money was made. Rumor has it, he’s dabbled in everything from toppling entire regimes to guiding the government through terrorist black sites and eliminating high-end targets before anyone ever knew he was there.

My brother was a killer for hire.

Kind of like what we did. Only, he wasn’t forced into working for the government in that capacity—he chose it.

Turns out, being beaten and shot at ten wasn’t enough violence for him.

Get out of the past.

After shoving thoughts better left buried aside, I turn my attention to Dahlia. She’s staring out the window at the tarmac, her gaze a million miles away.

Phillip Prescott’s granddaughter.

Have to say, a missing heir is a first even for me.

I’ve worked jobs where I recovered the missing, dealt with stalkers or abusive exes, but never an heir being hunted by her family’s employee. With Sawyer on it, I have no doubt we’ll figure out a way to reach the lawyer, but how much damage will be done before then?

How much of her life will she miss while we try to put the broken pieces back together?