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What I've Done (Morgan Dane Book 4)(33)

By:Melinda Leigh


Except for a twitch next to his left eye, Kieran’s face froze.

“Did you text her multiple times a day, demanding to know where she was and who she was with?” Morgan propped her hand on her hip, closer to her own weapon. “Like you did with Haley.”

“My ex-wife has mental health issues. The charges were dropped.” Despite his explanation, livid red crept up his neck, and his gaze hardened. “My attorney made sure that the arrest record was erased. How did you get a copy?”

Morgan met his gaze head-on. “You can erase official records, but an article in the newspaper lives forever.”

Glaring, Kieran shoved the magazine into the handgrip.

Where is Lance?





Chapter Twenty-Five

Lance hurried down the hallway. He didn’t have much time. The house was large, but Haley had said the study was near the master bedroom. He took the stairs two at a time, keeping an eye out for the butler. On the left, a set of double doors stood open to reveal a library. He turned right and went through another set of double doors to another hallway. A long carpet runner silenced his steps. He glanced in open doorways as he walked. He passed several bedrooms, impersonally decorated. How many guest rooms could a house have?

He stopped in front of another set of double doors. He listened at the door but heard no sounds. Cracking the door open a few inches, he peeked inside. It was the only room that looked even remotely lived in. He peered in the closet at perfectly neat rows of men’s clothes and shoes. This must be the master bedroom. It was the size of Lance’s whole house.

What did one person do with all this space?

Lance continued down the hall. Two doors from the master suite, he found the study. It was exactly as he’d imagined it: an entire wall of bookshelves, a leather executive chair, and a desk the size of a barge with a matching credenza.

He slipped inside and closed the door behind him. The butler was on the first floor of the house, but Lance didn’t want anyone to see him snooping. He pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket and put them on. Then he went behind the desk and started opening drawers. Haley had found her photo in the pencil drawer, but if Lance were going to hide illegal photographs, he’d lock them up.

Lance opened the desk drawers one by one. In the top right drawer, he found the Polaroid camera. It was a new model that produced an instant photo the size of a credit card. He spun the chair toward the credenza. The drawers were locked. Fortunately, he’d come prepared. He took his lock-picking tools from his pocket and went to work. The locks were simple, and he popped them in a couple of seconds. But the drawers held contracts and other paperwork that Lance didn’t have time to peruse. He closed and locked them again.

He turned back to the desk. Had Kieran moved his stash to a different room? The photo of Haley indicated more than the desire to look at a woman naked. Kieran had the real thing in his bed when he’d taken her picture. The lack of consent was part of the thrill. He’d gotten off on breaking her trust. If he had more pictures, he’d want to look at them often, to relive the excitement. He’d want to keep them close at hand.

Lance reached under the desk. His fingers hit something. He examined the underside of the desk. A yellow envelope was tucked under the rear-drawer support. He slid the envelope out and opened it.

Bingo.

Polaroids of naked, sleeping women, and Lance would bet all had been unaware they were being photographed.

Movement in the hall caught his attention. He slid the pictures back into the envelope and stuck it under his shirt at the small of his back, tucking it into the waistband of his pants. Something jingled in the hallway. Keys?

He stood and went to the door. Opening it two inches, he scanned the hall but saw no one. Lance listened for a few seconds, but the hallway remained quiet. He slipped out of the office, stuffing the gloves in his pocket.

The jingle sounded again, followed by heavy breathing. Lance turned and stopped dead. A Rottweiler stared at him from the other end of the hall. The jingle hadn’t been keys but dog tags.

Lance considered the distance between him and the double doors that led to the second-floor landing. Twenty feet never seemed so far.

He took a step backward. The dog moved forward an equal distance. It emitted a low growl, the hair on its back rising.

Shit.

“Good boy.” Lance eased backward another foot.

The growling intensified. But the dog did not bark.

Lance slid his foot backward on the carpet. His heart slammed in double time, and sweat dripped between his shoulder blades.

The dog bristled and took a stiff-legged step forward.

Lance glanced behind him. Could he make it?

Did he have another option?

No. He couldn’t call for help without revealing his unauthorized search. That would be awkward. He’d have to make a break for it. But he’d rather face ten angry men than one large dog.

Lance spun and sprinted for the door. He heard the dog’s feet dig into the carpet as it charged, but he didn’t dare look back. He focused all his attention on the door. Fifteen feet. Ten. The jingling rushed up behind him. Almost there. Was that the dog’s breath on his ankle?

Lance grabbed for the knob, opened the door, and slipped through the opening. His leg jerked, pulling him backward.

The dog’s mouth was clamped around his boot at the ankle. The dog gave his leg a death shake, yanking Lance’s whole leg back and forth. He kicked at the dog’s head with his other foot. He caught the dog’s jaw with his heel. The giant jaws opened, and Lance pulled his foot free.

Undaunted, the dog lunged for his leg again. But Lance dove through the opening, shutting the door just as the Rottie hit the wood on the other side.

Leaning on the door, Lance breathed, his pulse slamming, sweat gathering under his arms. On the other side of the door, the dog sniffed deeply at the half inch of space between the door and floor. It did not bark, and it did not scratch at the door. Lance pictured it staring.

And maybe plotting revenge.

Lance examined his boot. The dog’s teeth had punctured the leather. Better to replace his footwear than his foot.

The dog hadn’t been there before Lance went into the office. Had it simply been in a different room and heard him? Or had someone let the beast into the hallway because that person knew Lance was in there?

He walked quickly down the hall and peered over the balcony to make sure no one was in sight before he jogged down the stairs. He hurried down the corridor and stopped in the powder room to wash his hands. By the time he returned to the basement, his heart was no longer trying to race right out of his body.

“We were just wondering what had happened to you.” Angry red stained Kieran from the neck up.

The strain on Morgan’s face told Lance that something had happened while he’d been gone. He gave her a questioning look, but a small shake of her head convinced him not to ask.

“I don’t have any more questions for now.” Morgan’s posture was stiff. “Thank you for speaking with us. You’ve been very helpful.”

“You’re welcome.” As Kieran made eye contact with Morgan, something nasty flashed in his eyes. His protective instincts on alert, Lance automatically moved closer to her.

This creeper is going on the short list of suspects for so many reasons.

Kieran turned back to his new gun, his body language dismissing them.

Asshat.

Morgan led the way out of the basement. David showed them to the door, and they walked back to the Jeep.

Lance climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. “What happened?”

“His personality changed while you were out of the room.” She told him about Kieran’s Jekyll-and-Hyde attitude shift. “We definitely need more information about Kieran Hart.”

Lance steered the Jeep down the driveway and through the gate. He paused at the road to check for oncoming traffic and squinted up through the windshield. “I wonder if the house across the street has a security camera.”

“We should try,” she said. “Maybe we can see what time Kieran came home. Underneath his inherited sophistication, Kieran gives out a nasty personal vibe. And he was probably lying. I seriously doubt it was a coincidence that he was at the club the same night as Haley. He couldn’t cover his anger when he talked about her and Noah, though he tried. I think he followed her there. Or knew she would be there from her social media page and went there to try and talk her into getting back together. Men like Kieran don’t take being dumped well. They prefer to be the dumpers rather than the dumpees.”

“I agree. It was not a coincidence that he was trying out his new handgun during our interview either. Also, I found these.” Lance reached behind him and pulled out the envelope of photos from under the back of his jacket and shirt.

Morgan opened the envelope and used the light on her phone to look at the pictures. “Where did you find these?”

“Stuck under his desk drawer.”

“These are pictures of a dozen naked women. Not just Haley.”

“Yes,” Lance said. “I told you sex crimes are like roaches. When you find one, you know there are hundreds more you haven’t yet discovered.”

She stuffed the pictures back in the envelope quickly. “What should we do with them? Possessing photos of women you’ve slept with isn’t a crime. We’d have to prove he took them without their consent and that they had an expectation of privacy, which might be difficult. I’m sure Kieran’s attorneys will argue that the women were willingly naked in his bed, in his house, and that they were willingly nude with him. I doubt the prosecutor would bring charges, and in order to sue him in civil court, the women would have to prove damages. He hasn’t used the photos in any way to harm them.”