Page 62 of Business or Pleasure

When I finished, I waited for him to say something, but he kept silent for another few minutes before leaning back in his chair and sighing. “A note from someone claiming to be her father and four or five sheets of paper with information from MIRI, and a magazine article about her ex-con father who forced her to run cons with him?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring it with me. I wasn’t at my best.”

He offered a sympathetic smile. “I wasn’t criticizing you for not having it. Just wanting to be sure I understood what you saw.”

“Aye, that’s right.” I felt some relief at having told him, but my stomach was still a knot of tension.

Another minute or so of him saying nothing, and then he shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Even people who seem decent can do unscrupulous things when a large enough sum of money comes into play.” I tried not to think about what Harlee might have done to me if her father had learned about our relationship.

“You misunderstand me.” Alec leaned forward again, an intense expression on his face. “How things happened. The information you say she had. That is what doesn’t make sense.”

I frowned, not understanding.

“Baylen.” Alec sounded annoyed with me. “I understand that Angie screwed you up, but believing this without actually thinking it through is all on you.”

“I dinna ken what you’re havering on about.”

He shook his head. “No, you don’t, do you?” He sighed. “If Harlee stole all of those things from my company and put them in an envelope to take home and give to her father, why would she have included a copy of a magazine article where her father was confessing to crimes that she and he committed together?”

Shit. He was right.

“The only reason I can think of for that article being there at all would be for someone else to read.”

Fuck.

Before I could respond, a knock came at the door.

“Alec, someone’s at the gate.” Lumen’s voice was muffled, but I could still hear an odd note in her voice. “He’s asking for you by name.”

“Excuse me, please.”

Alec left the office, and I followed, more to avoid being left with the new questions I had than any real curiosity about who was here. That disappeared when I saw the car on the security monitor.

“That’s Harlee’s car,” I said.

“Aye,” Alec switched to another screen, “but that’s not Ms. Sumpter.”

This angle showed through the driver’s side window where a man with a battered face sat, his anxious expression evident even through the mess.

“Who the hell is that, and why does he have Harlee’s car?” Something like panic sliced through me. I’d only left her a couple hours ago.

“That’s Franklin Cook.” Alec glanced at me. “Harlee’s father.”

His words hit me with an almost physical blow, and I took a step back. Her father. The man who had asked her to steal from MIRI. She said she didn’t do it and now he was here in her car. What the hell was happening?

“You recognize him?”

“I run thorough background checks on all of my employees,” he said as he pressed the button to open the gate. “And I read all of them. Including the one done on Harlee Sumpter. My people are thorough and found that same article. I already knew about her past.”

We reached the bottom of the front steps just as the car came to a stop. Franklin got out of the car, and we met halfway. He looked like shit and moved like someone in pain, but I couldn’t quite find it in myself to feel any sympathy.

“Mr. McCrae.” He held out an envelope. “I’m Harlee’s dad.”

“I know who you are,” Alec said mildly. Are you ok? You look like you've been through a lot. He took the envelope, glanced at it, and then held it out to me.

“I'm fine, but the envelope is for you," Franklin said, irritated.

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