Page 129 of Crossfire

He didn’t answer me, though. Instead, he made a turn into what I thought was a side road, but evidently, it was the longest driveway in human history, leading to a freaking mansion.

I’m talking, sprawling estate so big, it looked like it occupied the entire planet.

“This is your brother’s house?” My jaw went slack as the vehicle continued its long-ass journey to the front.

“The food should be good. He has a chef; otherwise, it would be terrible.”

“Who lives in a house like this?” I said as Grayson shifted the car into park.

“This is the house I grew up in.”

My head snapped. “What?”

Grayson unbuckled his seat belt.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. You grew up in this house?”

“Yes.”

“So, you’re, like…rich?”

“My parents were wealthy.”

“That is such a rich thing to say.”

“When they passed, the estate went to us.”

Estate. A fancy word that rich people used, whose wealth passed through generations.

“Come on. Let’s go,” he said so casually. It was like the thought of being this wealthy wasn’t a huge deal.

It was.

“Wait a minute.” I put my hand on his arm, stopping him from opening his door. “So, you literally choose to murder people and it’s not because you are completely broke?”

“I told you what my motivation is; it has nothing to do with money. Come on. We’re going to be late.”

“Wait,” I demanded.

This time, Grayson gave an impatient sigh as he turned to me again.

“So, you don’t have to work?”

“Financially speaking, no. Now, come on.”

Grayson got out of his car, and the only reason I was still sitting in the passenger seat as he opened the door was out of pure shock.

He held his hand out to me, and in a totally distracted trance, I took it, rising to my feet. Grayson put one finger over his lips, a silent warning before pointing to something on the house.

There, positioned above the front door and other various locations around the building, were black surveillance cameras.

Conversation over.

But it couldn’t be over. I would ask more questions later, but for now, I at least needed to know the running rules.

“So, they think you’re…” What was the word for someone so wealthy that chose not to work? Couldn’t think of one, so the best I came up with was, “Retired?”

“No. They know I work.”

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