Page 68 of Misdirection

Forty minutes? For some reason, she’d envisioned Jason having a place close to the office like she did.

That didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she’d found out where he lived, and now she could confront him.

This time she wouldn’t hold back. She wouldn’t play nice and do pinky promises.

No, she would demand answers. Demand the truth.

Her father had spent his whole life tricking her. She didn’t take kindly to when people did that to her now.

Finally, Olive pulled off the highway and into a neighborhood.

A very nice neighborhood with large, sprawling houses on big lots.

A few minutes later, she pulled into the driveway of a Tudor-style home that was probably five thousand square feet with an immaculate lawn and elaborate landscaping.

This place had to cost well over a million.

Where in the world had Jason gotten this kind of money? Conglomerate paid its high-level execs well. But not this well—and Jason wasn’t an exec.

Even though Jason’s dad was a doctor, his family had never appeared to have this kind of money.

More questions raced through Olive’s mind.

Had Jason bought this place with the money he’d made by selling company secrets?

Nausea roiled inside her at the thought.

To think she’d been beginning to trust him. What had she been thinking?

Her suspicions continued to rise.

She slammed her car door and then charged up the sidewalk.

Her knock was rapid-fire and urgent. She could hardly contain the anger coursing through her veins.

What if he didn’t answer? Or what if he wasn’t actually home? She’d headed here under an assumption.

If she’d been thinking more clearly, she would have considered the possibility he’d gone somewhere else.

But then the front door opened.

Jason stood in the entry staring at her, his expression hard and unwelcoming.

But that was okay. She imagined her expression wasn’t so friendly either.

Olive braced herself for the coming confrontation, knowing it would be ugly. But she couldn’t put it off any longer.

“What are you doing here?” Jason’s gaze burned a hole in her as he stared at her from just inside the front door.

“We need to talk.” Olive kept her voice firm and unyielding. “Right now.”

“Then by all means, come in.” He opened the door wider, but not necessarily in a friendly manner.

Olive had her gun tucked in her purse just in case she needed it. She hoped she didn’t, but she couldn’t assume anything. If Jason was the guy behind this . . . then he was dangerous.

Her gaze swept over the interior of his home.

Marble floors. A grand staircase. Spotless furniture.

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