Page 85 of Vengeful Union

Despite my relief, I’m also annoyed. “All right, old man. Where do you keep the goods?”

I look at his ancient desktop computer and bite my lip, wondering what’s on there. I’ve got to look, as worried as I am about what I’ll find.

When I shake the mouse around on the mousepad, a password prompt comes up.

“Shit.”

I try to think.

First, I try Bree’s birthday. Nothing.

Then, I try my birthday. Nope.

I only have one try left before it locks me out. I think hard, trying to figure out what my father cares about above all else.

Slowly, I type in his birthday, and the computer screen changes, opening up.

It is always all about him. It was not my first try because I thought he’d be smarter than this. I mean, who uses their birthday as password for everything?

I look through all the folders and for a while, I think I’m not going to find anything. There doesn’t seem to be anything incriminating anywhere.

There’s a folder at the bottom of the screen titled “Tax Documents” and I finally click it, my eyes widening when the files start to pull up.

There’s a police report from a car accident–around the same time that the Burke matriarch was killed. There’re also spreadsheets with shipment dates, and even though it doesn’t specify what exactly the shipment is, it could be incriminating.

Why would he have the police report about Lara’s mother’s death unless he had something to do with it? Not to mention all the dates on the shipments. Why would he keep this on his desktop?

I suppose he thinks it’s protected by his password. Thank God my father is from a generation who doesn’t quite understand technology.

I take pictures of the documents with my phone, not wanting to risk printing them out. My father is out of the house, but there’s still plenty of men here that could catch me.

As I snap the next picture, the doorknob jiggles. I quickly exit out of the folders, clicking on the main desktop to make the password screen come back up.

Thank God I locked the door behind me.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins, making my heart race.

I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until I let it out, and I slowly approach the door as I hear the key in the lock.

There’s nowhere to hide. My father’s study is a wide-open space, so I have to think on my feet.

When the door swings open, I’m surprised to see Duncan standing there.

“Rory?”

I let out a long breath through my nostrils, relieved. If it had been Paul or any of my father’s other men, I may not have been able to convince them I wasn’t up to something.

But Duncan is my friend. I still have to tread carefully, but I know how to deal with him.

“What are you doing in here with the door locked?” It’s not suspicion that edges his voice but curiosity.

“The old man left his phone,” I lie easily, standing up and forcing a smile on my face. “You know how he is, he forgets it every time. Just locked the door out of habit, I guess.” I rub a hand across the back of my neck sheepishly.

Duncan just looks at me with a blank expression. “Did you find it?”

I look down at my empty hands, cursing inwardly. “Nah. Must be in his suit pocket. He’s really unorganized for a boss.”

He snickers, nodding. “Yeah, the last run he supervised, he forgot his gun. Can you believe that?”

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