The Object of His Protection

“Just curious,” she said, refusing to let him know about Drey’s request. He’d seen Drey around but had probably assumed he was dropping by to see her for personal reasons.

“And you were curious because…” he prompted.

She met his gaze. “Because I saw the body, Nate, and I know Joe Dennis didn’t die of a heart attack. There was trauma to—”

“There was no trauma,” he all but snapped. “Are you questioning my findings?”

Yes, I am, Charlene thought. She was questioning his findings because he knew as well as she did that they were wrong. “All I know, Nate, is what I saw. Someone had hit Dennis over the head.”

“You are mistaken, Charlene, and that’s the end of it,” he said with a finality in his tone, while coming close to raising his voice. “And I would appreciate it if you never go checking behind me again.”

“I wasn’t doing that, Nate.”

“Weren’t you?”

Charlene really didn’t know what to say. All she knew, all she was definitely sure about was that the report Nate had issued to the police was wrong. Why would he do such a thing? Why was he trying to convince her it was right when she knew what she saw? And what about the key that had been taken out of the man’s stomach? There was no mention of it. She had a funny feeling about this and the intense way Nate was looking at her wasn’t helping. Still, she wasn’t dissuaded by his words. She knew what she saw and she intended to get to the bottom of it.

“Great,” she muttered as she headed out of the room. “I guess I was mistaken.” But she didn’t mean it. She needed to talk to Drey right away.

“Charlene.”

She stopped and turned to Nate before reaching the door. “Yes?”

“I think you should take some time off. In fact I strongly suggest that you do. You need time to clear your head since you’re imagining things.”

Charlene held back from telling him all the things that concerned her. She tilted her head and studied him and suddenly felt uneasy. There was a reason he wanted her gone for a while and they both knew it had nothing to do with her imagination.

“And it will be time off with pay,” he said, as if that meant something.

It was an effort not to tell him just what he could do with the time off with pay, but she bit her tongue to stop from doing so. Instead she walked out of the room.

A few minutes later after removing the items from her desk that she wanted to take with her she paused before entering Nate’s office when she saw he was on the phone. She couldn’t help but notice how quickly he ended the call when he saw her.

“Yes, Charlene?”

“I transferred my reports to Miller to work while I’m gone just in case someone needs a follow-up.”

“Okay.”

She inhaled deeply, then said, “What’s going on, Nate? Why are you—”

“I don’t want anything about Joe Dennis to go any further. You’re wrong in what you thought you saw,” he said, cutting in.

Forcing a smile, she said, “Fine. I’ll see you in two weeks.”

“Make it three and you might want to take the opportunity to go visit your parents while you have the time.”

Charlene frowned. Why was he suggesting that she leave town? “That sounds like a good idea, Nate. I’ll see you when I get back.”

As soon as possible, she needed to talk to Drey.

Drey studied the man who was standing at the window staring out as if he was in deep thought. Drey recalled just what he knew about Malcolm Braddock, other than his most recent discovery that the man was his half brother…something Malcolm didn’t know.

Malcolm assumed like his other two siblings—Tyson and Shondra—that Drey had been nothing more to their father than a mentee, someone Harmon Braddock had taken an interest in. They had no idea that their father had had an affair with his mother thirty-three years ago. It was the year before Malcolm had been born.

Although it had never bothered him before, now Drey felt a sense of loss that while he had gotten to know Harmon over the years, he hadn’t been given the chance to form any sort of relationship with his siblings. He inhaled deeply thinking there was still a lot of information his mother hadn’t told him. After she had dropped the bomb on him a few days ago regarding his true relationship with Harmon, he had left her office both confused and angry. He had deliberately avoided talking to her since that day, but he knew he could no longer avoid her. His questions needed answering. He had a case to solve and it was an investigation that had gone from business to personal. He was anxious to get that call from Charlene about that key.

Charlene.

His thoughts automatically shifted away from Malcolm to her, especially the kiss they had shared last night. He felt a tightening in his groin just thinking about it. Hell, he had barely gotten any sleep last night for thinking about it, replaying every aspect of it in his mind and finally drifting off to sleep with the taste of her still very much a part of his palate. It still was. The donut and coffee he’d consumed for breakfast hadn’t erased it.

And then there was the way she had felt in his arms, the way her body had automatically adjusted against his, raising his desire to a level it hadn’t been at in a while. Because of his workload, he hadn’t had time to spend with a woman, and last night Charlene had reminded him just how long it had been. A year, he had determined, was too long to go without female companionship, namely a good, hard roll in the hay.

He decided to get his mind off Charlene and back on Malcolm. He was still silently standing at his office window, evidently trying to make sense of this entire investigation and probably asking himself who would want his father dead.

Drey leaned back in his chair thinking that from the time he’d come to know Malcolm he’d always thought of him as a likeable guy. Drey was also aware of the rift that had existed between Malcolm and Harmon for years, namely because Malcolm thought that Harmon had “sold out” to play the political game. That was something Malcolm could not tolerate because of his ingrained sense of right and wrong. The man was extremely smart and in a lot of ways he reminded Drey of Harmon in that Malcolm was headstrong, he liked to debate and was passionate about his beliefs.

Something else that Malcolm seemed passionate about was the woman he was engaged to marry, Gloria Kingsley. Gloria had been Harmon’s executive assistant. Drey knew that Gloria had been instrumental in getting Malcolm to assume a leadership role in the Braddock family as well as to run for his father’s now-vacant seat in Congress.

The special election was to be held at the end of the month, and recent polls showed Malcolm was ahead of his opponent, Clint Hardy, who was running a negative campaign. With the election so close at hand, as well as the investigation into his father’s death, Malcolm pretty much had his hands full. No wonder he was standing at the window staring out, and had been that way since Drey had arrived almost ten minutes ago.

However, no matter the outcome of the election or the investigation, the one thing Drey knew for certain was that Malcolm would be marrying Gloria next month on Christmas Day.

As if on cue, Malcolm turned his head and looked at him, meeting his gaze. Drey wondered if there was anything—his facial bone structure, his strong chin or full cheekbones that would give his secret away and make it obvious to Malcolm that they shared the same blood. Drey knew there was not. Other than his skin coloring and full lips, most of his features were Asian.

“So, you think this key that was taken out of Dennis is connected to Dad’s death?” Malcolm asked, coming to sit back down at his desk.

“I would have to say yes since not too many people make a habit of going around swallowing keys.”

Malcolm nodded, then leaned back in his chair and made a steeple with his fingers. “I was standing over there trying to recall just when Dennis started working for Dad and if in the past I’ve ever had a reason to question his loyalty. But then it’s not like Dad and I were close over the last few years for me to get to know any of his associates or employees.” A smile touched his lips when he added, “Other than Gloria. She used to be quite a sticky thorn in my side.”

Drey raised a brow. “How so?”

“As his executive assistant, she thought my old man walked on water, refused to see his faults like I did. And she resented me for walking away from my father and my family.”

“Why did you?”

If Malcolm thought the question odd coming from a person who had no connection to the family, who was merely someone that he and his siblings had hired to investigate their father’s death, he gave no indication of it. Instead he said, “Despite my privileged upbringing, I’ve always been drawn to those in need and always wanted to help those less fortunate. A few years ago a bill came across my father’s desk that would have helped a lot of needy families—a bill that my dad himself had once championed. I couldn’t take any more of him not practicing what he preached.”

“So you walked away from the family.”

“Yes. Although I kept in touch with my mother and siblings, I couldn’t find it in my heart to forgive Dad for what he did by turning his back on so many who needed him to make a difference. I loved him, but I just couldn’t accept the political behavior my father was practicing. In my eyes he was becoming involved in the dirty side of politics and I couldn’t turn my head and pretend he wasn’t.”

“What about Tyson and Shondra? Did they break their relationship with your father as well?” Drey asked, thinking that the Harmon Braddock whom Malcolm had just described was not the one he had known.

“Not as clean as I did. And unable to deal with the tension between me and Dad, they threw themselves into their careers.”

Drey nodded. “So you and the congressman were not on good terms when he died?”

Malcolm held his gaze. “No, and if your next question is going to ask me if I had anything to do with the accident—”

“No, I wasn’t going to ask you that, Malcolm. That hadn’t crossed my mind. I was at the funeral, remember? I saw how badly you took the congressman’s death. The two of you may have had your differences, but you loved your father.”

Malcolm didn’t say anything for a moment, and then, “Yes, I did.”

Before Drey could say anything else, his cell phone rang and he stood to retrieve it from his pocket and flipped it open. “Excuse me,” he said to Malcolm before glancing down at his phone. He was surprised to see his caller was Charlene. He hadn’t expected to hear from her until later that day. “This is Drey. What do you have for me?”

“Trouble. Can we meet somewhere and talk?”

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