No, William said with boredom. I know who both my parents were" a rather important detail in ones life. It can be so dispositive, dont you agree?

As William ripped out of the hold and walked toward the car, the chauffeur opened the suicide door to the backseat and the man slid in.

The Drophead was off a moment later, that handsome profile of its pas- sanger remaining forward and composed as if nothing had happened.

But Lane knew better.

His father clearly hadnt been aware that Chantal was pregnant"

and the man was very, very definitely in the running to be responsible.

Likely in first place.

Dear Lord.

Lane returned to Macks truck, and resumed his casual, Im- not- waiting- for- anything waiting.

Under more normal circumstances, he would probably have been ranting about the fact that his wife and his father had consummated some kind of a relationship.

But he didnt even care.

Focusing on that still- closed door of the business center, he just prayed his brother was okay. And wondered how long he needed to wait before he broke in.

For some reason, he heard Beatrix Mollies voice in his head, back { 314 }.

from the day before when the woman had been loitering outside Rosa- lindas office.

It comes in threes. Death always comes in threes.

If that were true, he prayed his brother wasnt the number two . . .

but he sure as hell had some recommendations for the universe on who should be.

E dwards body was screaming by the time he heard, off in the distance, the rear exit open and close.

In spite of the pain, he waited another ten minutes just to make sure the business center was empty.

When there were no further sounds, he gingerly shifted his feet out from under the desk and bit his lower lip as he tried to straighten his legs, move his arms, get himself unkinked. And he made it far enough to have to shove the office chair out of his way" thank God the thing was on rollers.

But that was it.

He tried to stand up. Over and over again: With all manner of grunt- ing and swearing, he attempted every conceivable strategy of transi- tioning back to the vertical, whether it was gripping the top of the desk and pulling, sitting back on his hands and pushing, or even crawling like a child.

He made little to no progress.

It was like being stuck at the bottom of a thirty-foot well.

And to top it off, he had no cell phone in his pocket.

Further curse words ricocheted through his head, the f- bombs land- ing and making craters in his thought patterns. But following that period of air strikes, he was able to think more clearly. Stretching over as best he could, he grabbed hold of the phone wire that ran from the wall up through a hole in the bottom of the desk.

Good plan, except the trajectory was wrong. When he pulled it, he was only going to move the handset farther out of reach.

{ 315 }.

And he had to call Lane"not just because he wasnt going to be able to make it to the exit. If he didnt reach his brother soon, the man was liable to get impatient, break down the damn door and blow their cover.

Bracing himself, Edward rocked forward once . . . twice . . .

On three, he heaved his torso up, drawing on some reserve of strength he didnt know he had.

It was ugly. His bones literally rattled together under his skin, hit- ting one another hard without any buffering of muscle, but he did man- age to snag the receiver from its cradle" and drag the rest of the phone forward on the desk until it fell off the edge and landed in his lap.

His hands were shaking so badly that he had to dial a couple of times because he kept messing up the sequence, and he was near to blacking out when he finally put the handset up to his ear.

Lane answered on the first ring, bless his heart. Hello? the guy said.

You need to come and get"

Edward! Are you okay? Where are "

Shut up, and listen to me. He gave his brother the code and made Lane repeat it. Im behind the desk in Fathers assistants office.

He hung up by slapping the receiver around its base until it found home, and then he closed eyes and sagged against the drawers. Funny, hed been laboring under the misconception that sweeping out the barn aisles regularly meant his stamina and mobility had improved. Not the case. Then again, his pretzel- under- the- desk routine might have been a challenge for anyone.

As he heard the rear door open and shut for a second time, he had a sudden urge to re-try the whole get-to-his-feet thing, just so that he and Lane could be spared the embarrassment that was about to come. But the flesh was unwilling even as his ego got up on its high horse.

A moment later, he cut Lane off before the man spoke even a sylla- ble. I got it, he said roughly. I got what we need.

He had to salvage his pride somehow.

Lanes knees cracked as he crouched down. Edward, what happened"

{ 316 }.

Spare me. Just get me up into that chair. I need to log out or well be compromised. Where has Father gone? I know he left out the back.

He got in his car with the driver and I watched him leave. Hes off to the track.

Thank God. Now get me up.

More ugliness, with Lane grabbing him under the armpits as if he were a corpse and dragging him off the imperial purple carpet. When he was finally seated, a sudden drop in blood pressure made him light- headed, but he shook that off and turned on the monitor again.

Go to his desk, he ordered Lane. Top drawer in the middle.

Theres a sheaf of papers in there. Dont bother reading them, run to the Xerox machine and get us a copy. He just signed them. When Lane only stood there, as if he were wondering whether he had a medical emergency to deal with first, Edward slashed his hand through the air.

Go! And put them back exactly where they were. Go!

When Lane finally got his ass in gear, Edward refocused on the computer screen. After transferring one final document, he began sign- ing out of the network carefully, closing everything that he had opened.

Lane hightailed it back no more than a second after he was finally finished.

Get me out of here, Edward said roughly. But set the phone back up here first.

It was the height of impotence that he required his strong, able- bodied younger brother to put things back in order and then heft him to his feet and shuffle him out of the office like he was a geriatric.

And what do you know, Lane gave up trying to help him walk just as they came across that family crest in the carpet. Im going to have to pick you up.

Whatever you must.

Edward turned his face away from his brothers shoulder as his weight was popped off the floor. The ride was a rough one, his pain level ramping up and shifting to all kinds of new places. They made better progress, however.

{ 317 }.

What was the paperwork for? Edward demanded as they moved fast down that hall of conference rooms and offices.

Youre going to have to walk once we get outside.

I know. What was the paperwork about?

Lane just shook his head as they came to the back door. I need to put you down.

I know"

The grunt of pain was nothing he could hold in, much as he would have preferred to. And he had to wait to be sure that his legs accepted his weight, his hand biting into Lanes forearm as he used his brothers steady body to help stabilize himself.

You okay? Lane asked. Are you good to get over to the truck?

As if he had a choice.

Edward nodded and pulled the baseball hat down lower over his face. Check outside first.

Lane popped the door and leaned out. Okay, Im taking your arm.

How chivalrous.

God damn him, but Edward got his legs moving toward that truck like the business center was on fire and that old F-150 was the only shelter he had: No matter how much it hurt, he just gritted his teeth and made it happen.

When he was finally stuffed into the passenger seat with the door closed, his stomach rolled so badly, he had to close his eyes and breathe through his mouth.

Lane jumped in beside him and cranked the engine. There was a grind of protest from under the hood as things were put in gear, and then they . . .

When there was no forward motion, Edward glanced across. What?

In slow motion, his brothers head turned toward him, a strange reserve hitting Lanes too handsome face.

Whats wrong? Edward demanded. Why arent you driving us out of here?

Releasing his seat belt, Lane said, Here, read this. Ill be right back.

{ 318 }.

As the set of documents fluttered over Edwards legs, he barked, Where the hell are you going?

Lane pointed at the papers and got out. Read.

When the drivers- side door was slammed in his face, Edward wanted to throw something. What in Gods green earth was Lane thinking? They had just broken into their fathers"

For some reason, he glanced down at what was on his lap.

And saw the words Mortgage and Instrument.

What . . . ? he muttered, gathering the pages up and putting them in order.

When he was finished reading them, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back. In exchange for the good and fair consideration of $10,000,000 USD or ten million US dollars to Mrs. Virginia Eliza- beth Bradford Baldwine . . . Sutton Smythe had an income stream of sixty thousand dollars a month until the full sum was repaid to her.

The kicker, of course, was the default clause: If the monthly interest wasnt paid on time, Sutton could foreclose on the entire Easterly estate.

Everything from the mansion, to the outbuildings, to the farmland would be hers.

Not a bad risk profile, considering at last valuation about four years ago, the place had been thought to be worth about forty million dollars.

Edward cracked his lids again and riffled to the signature page. It had been previously notarized" regular practice at BBC on the QT.

And William Baldwine had signed on the line that was marked Virginia Elizabeth Bradford Baldwine with his own John Hancock and three let- ters: POA.

Power of attorney.

So even though his mothers name was the only one on the deed, and she no doubt had no knowledge of the agreement, and wasnt going to see a penny of the money, everything was nice and legal.

Damn it.

When the door on his side of the truck opened, he cursed and shot a glare at Lane"

{ 319 }.

Except his brother wasnt the one whod done the duty with the handle.

No, Lane was standing off to the side, under a magnolia tree.

Miss Aurora had lost weight, Edward thought numbly. Her face was the same, but far leaner than he remembered. Then again, that was true for the both of them.

He couldnt meet those eyes of hers.

Just couldnt.

He did look at her hands, though, her beautiful dark hands, which trembled as they reached for his face.