Page 172 of The Highlander's Holiday Wife

The man rolled his lips inward, refusing to meet Braden’s gaze.

Logan snapped his fingers. “He’s got something on you, doesn’t he? Baines is blackmailing you.”

Haxton’s whisper was barely audible. “Yes.”

“What is it?” Braden asked.

The banker’s gaze darted nervously around the room and landed on his butler.

“Nevins, what are you still doing here?” he snapped, apparently just becoming aware of his presence. “Get out.”

The butler started to scurry from the room, but Logan stopped him. “Wait in the kitchen with the maid, in case we have need of you.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, and he escaped out the door.

“So, what does Baines have on you?” Braden asked again.

“He . . . he represented me in a delicate legal matter, some years back,” he replied.

Kade, who’d been standing quietly by the window, scoffed. “Delicate legal matter. That sounds like a euphemism to me.”

Haxton glared at him. “It’s none of your damned business.”

“So Arthur used it against you,” Samantha said. “To get your cooperation.”

An intense hatred suddenly flashed across the banker’s face. “He left me no choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” she said sharply. “You could have come to me.”

Haxton’s laugh was bitter. “Really? Perhaps you’ve failed to notice the dead man on the carpet? If they’d caught a whiff of betrayal, they would have killed the both of us.”

Samantha came to her feet. “Like they killed Roger?”

Haxton’s momentary show of defiance bled away. “Yes.”

Her hand curled around the handle of her blade, her eyes glittering with rage. Braden had to resist the urge to sweep her away and shelter her from all the ugliness in the room and in her life. But this was Samantha’s quest, and he knew she needed to see it to the end, and in her own way.

“Who actually killed Roger?” she gritted out.

“MacGowan,” Haxton replied. “Penwith was beginning to suspect that Arthur was stealing money from the foundation, and . . . and was involved in other things, too.”

“Like kidnapping children and working with crime lords?” Braden sardonically asked.

Samantha took a step forward, pinning Haxton with her gaze. “Did Arthur order MacGowan to kill Roger?”

Haxton shrank back against the sofa cushions. “I don’t know.”

Samantha leaned over him. “Tell me the truth, Haxton.”

“Arthur never told me, I swear! It’s possible that MacGowan made the decision. The bastard is utterly ruthless.”

“As the dead body on the floor would indicate,” Braden said. “So, they decide to kill you and . . . what, try to pin the blame on you for most of this?”

Samantha shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense, though. Girvin already knows that I know. That’s why she kidnapped Felicity.”

“They did want to pin the blame on me,” Haxton spat out. “I could tell by the way Arthur and Girvin were acting. They didn’t trust me anymore. That’s why I was leaving town, to get away from them.”

“But why would a gang leader need to run his ill-gotten gains through an entity like the Penwith Foundation?” Logan asked. “Why not just employ the usual methods, like using pawnbrokers or moving goods out of the city to sell somewhere else.”

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