Jennifer Morey - Runaway Heiress

“Don’t forget about him, Steven,” she said.

With a resigned look, he put down his cup. “His case isn’t being treated any differently than someone who had a home. The killer did a good job of hiding evidence. It’s going to take some smart detective work to catch him.”

She knew that. Bernie’s killer hadn’t left any evidence, no trace evidence. While she debated whether his case was treated any differently than if he’d been a contributing figure in his community, she had to acknowledge the prowess of his killer. But damn it, why did he have to die on the brink of getting his life back on track? The injustice choked her up.

“Bernie was like family to me.” Many of her clients were, but Bernie was special. He was the reason she started the Revive Center. When she met him on the street, she had taken him to the hotel where she was staying, not knowing then what she’d do. Give him money, but he needed more than money. He needed help.

Born, the Revive Center.

She and Bernie had become very close since then. After a long rehabilitation, he’d gone to college and got a job. Success. She wouldn’t say he was as happy as he could be. He still felt his tragic losses, but he’d been well on his way to a good life.

“What you do is an inspiration to humanity, Sadie. You put your whole heart into your organization. You’ve come a long way in rebuilding your own life, too. Hell, no wonder why you gravitated to them. Even with all your money, you’re not much different than them.”

She laughed despite her sadness. Sometimes she forgot how well Steven knew her.

“Don’t jeopardize your new beginning by involving yourself in Bernie’s case,” Steven said. “That’s my job.”

“I have to do something.” She could not stand by and let him do all the work, especially now.

“Sadie...” His voice trailed off on a warning tone.

“Don’t try to talk me out of it. You always do that. You’re too cautious. No one will recognize me.”

He cocked his head that gave his eyes a sardonic look. “The car?”

“It’s a gray sedan.” But she knew he had her there. “Money is the one thing I have in common with my father,” she said ruefully. “I kept the car because if I need money, I can sell it.”

“Fine, leave it in the garage.”

She felt safe here. No one knew her. Aside from the fun of it—and the defiance of her situation, she drove the car to keep the oil from pooling in the engine, but she could have her staff do that. “I don’t drive it that much, Steven. I’m careful with that. But for you I won’t drive it until my ex is either dead or in jail.” Small chance of that happening. He’d evaded both Steven’s secret investigating and the police. He’d likely be killed by one of his own enemies before law enforcement caught him, given the type of activities he practiced.

Steven smiled softly, fondly at her easy obedience. She always listened to him.

“You enjoy money for much different reasons than your father. Don’t compare yourself to him.” He’d always been sympathetic to her plight. She was lucky to have him as a friend. “I do have to say, though, he’d implode if he saw you in flannel.”

She returned his fond smile. “I spent a lot of years repressing who I really was just to please him.” She’d been a peacekeeper, allowing her father to mold her into his corporate minion, his clone—at great expense to her soul. She looked down at her flannel shirt. “This is my rebellion.”

His regard warmed. “You wear it well.”

“I wear little black dresses better.”

He didn’t even falter with the image she must have given him. “He’d implode seeing you in that, too.”

“Then it’s good for my rebellion. It took a lot of therapy to break out of my old pattern. I’m enjoying the fruit of my labor.” Her father had expected her to dress business at all times. And for social engagements, nothing sexy had been permitted. Ultra conservative attire all the way down the line. No lingerie, no short skirts, no makeup and no jeans. It felt like breaking out of prison getting away from that.

“Are you running from your ex or your father?” he asked.

“Both.” Her ex had given her a reason to run, not one she welcomed but having to escape him had opened her eyes to a lot of things—namely her father’s control over her.

“Then continue to enjoy it. Just stay out of the investigation and keep the car in your garage. Please. I know it’s been a long time and you feel safe here, but don’t forget the kind of man your ex is.”

She stared at him, unable to deny anything he said. Maybe she had been a little careless driving her car, but how could she stand idly by? But he was right. She had to be careful not to risk all she’d worked so hard to build. She’d escaped her ex—and in the process her father. Ever since then she’d managed to stay hidden. Five years had passed. She’d like to stay hidden. And Steven had experience where she did not.

“All right. I won’t intervene.” Steven felt like a brother to her. And he’d helped her so much. Faithfully and consistently. She could count on him no matter what. But he had to understand that she had to do something.

She looked at him in a way to convey that without words.

As she anticipated, he read her. “Sadie...?”

“I won’t intervene,” she reiterated. “I’ll be cautious. But I’ve been thinking maybe I should hire a private investigations agency.”

To her delight he didn’t reject the suggestion. His brow rose a bit as though he liked the idea. “Good thinking. I’ll check into a few.”

“I already found one.” She put her hand on the overturned printout she’d put on the table when they’d first arrived and slid it toward him. “Dark Alley Investigations specializes in cases like Bernie’s.”

Steven turned the page over and with a glance at her first, read the printout of the About page of the agency’s website. After a few moments, his gaze returned to her. “This would draw too much attention to you. The guy who runs this is an international celebrity.”

“That’s exaggerating a bit much, Steven. International?”

“National, international, it doesn’t matter. He’s growing in popularity. Even I’ve heard of him. You could be caught on camera. It’s too dangerous.”

“They’re the best. They could solve Bernie’s case quickly.”

Seeing he wasn’t convinced, Sadie had to reassure him. “Safety is one of their number one protocols. They just hired a new head of security. Jamie Knox. There’s a paragraph about him on the printout.”

Steven didn’t move to read.

“I’d be safer with them than I am now,” she said.

“Are you questioning the qualifications of the team I sent you?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not at all. Don’t think that way. This is murder we’re talking about. It goes beyond security.” She needed an expert detective and security. She saw him digest that and begin to understand.

“It sounds like you’ve made up your mind,” he finally said.

She realized just then that she had. “Yes. I wasn’t sure before, but now that you’ve told me Bernie’s case has gone cold, I am.”

“If you’re looking for my approval, you don’t need it. I trust your instinct. Just keep me informed and don’t shut out my team. They communicate with me. I don’t want anything to happen to you, Sadie.”

He was so sweet. “Your girlfriend is a lucky lady.”

“I’m the lucky one. How’d you know I was seeing someone? I just met her.”

“I didn’t.” Sadie hadn’t thought a man like him would be single long.

Taking another drink of his coffee, Steven took out his wallet. “I should get going. I have a late flight.”