Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“He’s going to hurt someone—worse than he already hurt you—if he doesn’t get the help he needs,” Dare said.
“Do you really think I don’t know that?” Liza turned to glare at him, her big brown eyes full of pain and betrayal.
He swallowed hard, knowing that, yes, it was easier to give advice than to take it. “Then stop making it so easy for him to keep doing it. He’s got to hit rock bottom, and if he has you to prop him back up, he never will.”
“He’s my brother,” she said, her voice cracking. “You might not have had a relationship with yours for over a decade, but I have. And Brian was there for me. He saved me when—” She caught herself and clammed up, gripping her briefcase harder in her hand. “He’s my brother,” she repeated.
As if that was enough of a reason.
But Dare stayed focused on her other words. “How did he save you?” he asked, wondering where, beyond blood ties, her loyalty came from.
Because as sure as he was standing here, Dare knew she didn’t condone her brother’s drinking or his behavior, no matter how much she enabled it by helping him.
“It’s nothing,” she said in an icy-cold tone that stung.
The same words and tone he’d used when she’d asked about his tattoo. He didn’t miss the irony any more than he liked how it felt turned back on him.
His hand came to rest on the dark ink. It wasn’t just a tribal band. Inside was the date of the party, the date Dare had done nothing, and someone had died. It had been a way to honor the kid’s memory and to remind Dare of his promise to change how he lived his life. The inking of karma was a symbol of new beginnings without forgetting the sins of his past.
It wasn’t “nothing,” any more than whatever Liza was hiding from him now was. Still, he doubted they’d get anywhere this morning. Not with tensions and hurt so high between them.
So when she turned to get into her car, he let her go.
He needed a breather, and no doubt so did she. But he couldn’t shake the memory of how he’d hurt her this morning. Twice.
He’d promised himself he wouldn’t be another person who let her down, and damned if he hadn’t gone and done just that.
* * *
Liza drove up to her office. Every time she approached the old building that she used to visit when her grandparents worked there, she smiled. Her grandfather had renovated the Victorian, turning it into office space. Liza usually got a kick of pride that she was now in charge. No such kick hit her this morning. Instead, she was numb. This morning with Dare had been nothing like the night before, and, as much as she hated to admit it, the fault had been hers. Well, her brother’s, technically, but it equaled the same thing in her mind. She couldn’t change who her family was any more than he could change his. As furious as she was with Dare for judging her, at the same time, she understood why he hated her brother.
The question was, would he grow to hate her too?
She shook off the heavy thoughts and headed straight for Peter’s office, wondering what was so urgent that he’d had to see her in person. It couldn’t be good.
“Peter?” she said as she knocked on his open office door.
“Come in!” He rose as she stepped inside. Liza ran a business-casual office, but Peter always presented himself in a three-piece suit, and today was no different. “Thank you for coming so quickly,” he said, fixing his tie as he spoke.
“What’s so important?” she asked, not wanting to give him any indication that she assumed the problem had to do with her brother.
He glanced down at his desk, where everything was meticulously organized, rifled through a few file folders, and pulled out the one he was looking for. “There’s something unusual you need to see in Accounts Receivable,” he said.
“Brian’s department.” She kept her tone neutral.
“Yes. You see, we have two checks made out to Annabelle’s Antiques.” Peter handed her two photographed copies.
Liza recalled the purchase. “We bought antique window frames from them.” She’d chosen them herself. “Twenty-five hundred dollars a piece, as I recall.”
“So why were two five-thousand-dollar checks issued?” Peter asked.
Liza looked at the papers he’d handed her, confirming his words at a glance. “Did you check with the bank to see if they were both cashed?”
“Of course.” Two red spots highlighted the man’s cheeks. “I’m always thorough.” He clearly bristled at her question.
“I didn’t mean to offend you, Peter. I was just asking.”
He cleared his throat. “Yes. I inquired. Both checks were cashed. However, the signatures on the back of each are markedly different. Poor bank oversight if you ask me,” the man muttered.