Abigail treated me to a slight smile as I opened the door... and saw Brock standing right there.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Busted.

Of course Brock would pick this one time in his life to step away from a golf course earlier than expected. He played in the rain. He played when it was freezing outside. He played on public and private courses. He played in tournaments. He played then insisted the playing was really a business meeting. He played so often I wondered if his useless ball-hitting obsession explained his broken engagement two months ago.

I’d already forgotten her name because Brock never talked about her. She was an... architect or accountant. Something with anabut not assassin because I would have remembered that. Congrats to whatever her name was for being smart enough to run.

Brock’s arrival on Gram’s porch was a power play. I’d hoped Jackson’s lawyer puffery would have prevented this. Jackson told him not to drop in. I told Brock the same thing. Despite all the warnings to the contrary, Brock plunged ahead with hisyou can’t tell me what to doplans.

I ushered Abigail around Brock and watched her scurry down the walkway to her car. That solved one problem, though it would boomerang eventually.

On to the next issue. Dead husbands should trump general boss asshatery but not today. Good job, Brock.

“Are you stalking me?” Because stumbling over him every few days was not my idea of a good time.

Brock crossed his arms in front of him, sending a clear I’m-not-open-to-discussion message. “Do you think this situation is funny?”

“I don’t think anything about my job is amusing.” The most truthful comment I’d ever uttered.

“You are on a work trip. I’m your boss.”

As if he ever let me forget that. “I’m aware.”

“Then you also know we expect results, not roadblocks.”

I deserved his anger but ignored it anyway. “I’m trying to make the deal work.”

“By hiding in North Carolina?”

Time to bring out the big guns. “The business lawyer told you to back off or risk blowing the deal.”

Brock scoffed. “That guy?”

The punch of anger surprised me. Jackson didn’t need me rushing to his defense, but he didn’t have a choice. “He’s a respected lawyer.”

“He’s been handled.”

What kind of mob talk was that? “Meaning?”

“Your sole focus should be on me. On getting this deal done.” Brock leaned in as if he needed to emphasize his words with a bit of intimidation. “I’ve been very clear about this. Your continued employment depends on your being able to deliver this deal. You are out of chances.”

More stuff I already knew or at least guessed.

“Micah sees something in you. I don’t get it. I think he’ll soon regret giving you an opportunity and realize that his storied ability to read people was off this one time.” Brock shook his head. “Lucky for you, and since Micah believed this deal could be lucrative, rather than waiting on you I started the financial health assessment on the business with what little information has been made available so far.”

Gram would love that. “Why?”

“This project has legs.”

Brock said nonsense stuff like that all the time.

“Because of that, I need to step in before you blow this.” He finished his speech and made a move toward the house.

Not so fast. I performed the perfect block. I also caught him off guard and dragged him off the porch to the space under the maple tree out front. The trunk should block anyone from watching from the road.

“Kasey?” He sounded more stunned than angry but give him time. “What the hell are you doing?”