Page 109 of Jack

“What do you mean?”

“She was educated. Beautiful. And I’m an ex-con who works in a bar.” He lifted a shoulder.

“I think that there are no rules in love.” She turned onto the exit.

“What are you talking about? There are all sorts of rules—especially the ones a guy makes in his head. And they don’t come down without a fight. Take a right on Kellogg.”

“Maybe nothing we believe about ourselves comes down without a fight, even if it’s a lie.” She turned right, and he pointed to a three-story building. A sign to the parking ramp led under the building.

No ticket at entry meant a public lot, so she descended and found a space in the darkness of the lower level. She unhooked her belt, turned to him. “But some wars are worth the fight.”

Her own words tunneled back through her as they took the elevator to the lobby. Again, Jack’s words.“I very much, clearly know that you’re not . . . a high-schooler.”

He was built to protect, so maybe she could take a breath, give him some grace.

Maybe.

They walked out into the sleek vintage lobby of what looked like a former bank or post office. Polished oak flooring, open ceilings with painted black industrial piping, and the logo for S & W Development on a wall leading back to some offices. A few potted plants, pictures of local developments along the walls of the waiting area, some blueprints, some aerial shots. She perused them as Tommy walked to a long mahogany counter topped with white marble. A receptionist sat behind it, and he asked if Holden Walsh was in.

But Harper’s gaze had caught on a development called Loon Lake Estates. A blueprint of lots with a gated entrance connected to a yacht club and a fenced-in boatyard seated on the south shore of Loon Lake.

Just a few miles up the road from Duck Lake.

A couple of model homes surrounded the blueprint, expensive, lavish.

Other property projects also hung on the wall—Turbo nightclub among them, along with a few multifamily properties and apartment complexes, another office building, as well as retail spaces.

“I got his card,” Tommy said, coming up to her. “He’s not in. Neither is his partner, Derek Swindle.” He handed her the card.

“Of course not.” She sighed, looked at her watch. “I have to get back to Duck Lake. I need to be at a dance and wedding rehearsal in less than an hour.”

“Sorry. I thought this would be something.” He pushed the elevator call button.

“He does tenant services as well as property development,” she said, looking at the card.

“Sarah was one of his real estate agents.”

The door opened, and they got in, rode down.

“Why the laptop, I wonder?” Their feet echoed in the dim parking garage. A couple of lights were out, something she hadn’t noticed before, and for the first time, maybe, she didn’t hate that Tommy looked like a guy you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley. Or parking garage.

“She reported it missing, but she said that she had everything backed up to the cloud, so . . . ”

Harper unlocked the car. She slid into the driver’s seat as Tommy belted himself in.

Movement behind her caused her to jerk, scream as a man sat up. He wore dark glasses and a stocking hat, and he shoved a gun against the side of Tommy’s head.

“Everybody stay calm.”

Tommy put his hands up. Glanced at Harper, his mouth pinched.

“Take the car,” she said and reached for the handle?—

“Who areyou?”

She jerked and glanced at the man. “Who did you expect?”

“Stay put. We’re going for a drive.”