ready to believe just how attracted he was to her. In more ways than just her looks. Her beauty took his breath away, but it was her, all of her, that made his pulse pound so hard it echoed in his ears. Something about her had the ability to turn everything that had been hard and cold inside him for years warm and soft. He didn’t like it, had no idea what to do about it, either. This wasn’t an ordinary assignment. None of the cases he worked on were ordinary, but this one needed his full attention; there were so many bits and pieces that didn’t fit together.

Just like there were pieces of her that didn’t seem to fit together.

She seemed so young and innocent, but mention her sisters and she was like a mother bear protecting her cubs. Or was she using that to protect herself? Protect the mole?

What she’d said about Murray and Minnesota Thirteen was true, and Vincent Burrows had tried to convince Murray to peddle his bootlegged whiskey, right before he’d danced with Betty’s sister.

Coincidence again?

Couldn’t be.

“I can give you a list of other joints that only serve Minnesota Thirteen,” she said. “As well as those that don’t.”

Her smile, the way she blinked those eyes, heated up parts of him as if he was standing on a beach, soaking up every single ray the sun shone down upon the earth. He shifted in his seat, to ease the tightening of his body. The desire that kicked in every time he recalled kissing her had his heart beating faster and his adrenaline pumping harder than when he was about to make a bust.

He’d never experienced anything like this. Like her. And was having a hell of a time sorting out what to do about it. He’d considered not coming here to meet her tonight, but the idea of not seeing her played havoc on him. As much as he hated to admit it, he wanted to see her.

The piano player sat down, struck the keys, and instantly filled the room with a fast-beat ragtime tune, making sitting at the table too loud to talk. “Would you care to dance?”

She glanced over her shoulder, then looked at him, and shook her head. “We are here to talk, not dance.”

The other sister was standing next to the piano, tapping her foot. He wondered if she was the reason Betty didn’t want to dance. That, too, was curious. Was the other sister trying to hear what was said so she could report to someone?

He scanned the room, but just because he didn’t recognize anyone, didn’t mean that someone didn’t recognize him.

Although he’d convinced himself that he was not going to take her into the tunnel again because restraining certain desires was becoming as hard as holding back a hound dog on the scent of an escapee; he had to do what he had to. “It’s too loud to talk here,” he said.

She nodded. “Yes, it is.” She then waited for him to pull out her chair.

He took ahold of her hand, lightly, at first, then more firmly because a feather of a touch wasn’t enough. His attraction to her grew in her absence as much as it did in her presence.

Without a spoken word, they slipped behind the curtain, through the storage room, and into the tunnel. He locked the door behind them and pulled out his flashlight. “Let’s take a walk.” Sitting beside her with the music filtering through would bring back memories of last night, of dancing and kissing, and he didn’t need that. He needed to build his restraint back up.

“A walk? Where?”

“Down the tunnel.”

“To the abandoned house?”

“No, we won’t walk that far.” He took her hand and led her down the steps. The walk would give him time to collect a bit more information.

He had spent a few hours investigating her father this morning. LeRoy confirmed William Dryer had indicated that his daughters were young, but Henry had soon discovered they weren’t. They were indeed grown women. He’d discovered other information, too.

In fact, he probably now knew more about her father than she did.

The cabin in the hills that he was staying in, was where William Dryer was born. His mother had died shortly after his birth, and his grandmother long before then. William was raised by his father, Sylas, and his grandfather Edwin. Both Sylas and Edwin had been convinced there was gold in the Santa Monica Mountains, and laid claim to as many acres as possible each time land grants were available. They acquired thousands of acres, but never reported finding any gold. William had no formal education. He grew up searching for gold alongside his father and grandfather. After Edwin died, Sylas and William attempted farming the land, but it was too hilly and they couldn’t afford the equipment that would be needed to make the land workable.

There was a falling-out between father and son and William had gone to work on a cargo ship, which was how he met Marlys, Betty’s mother, up in Seattle. A short time later, Sylas had attempted to sell some land but couldn’t because Edwin had put it all in William’s name. William returned to California and sold off some small plots, but it was after Sylas had died that William received his major break, when movie studios started cropping up like weeds. They needed the one thing William had. Land. William ended up finding what his father and grandfather had been looking for, riches, but it hadn’t come from gold. It had come out of the pockets of men looking to make it rich in the film industry, and William had made them pay far more than a pretty penny for every acre.

He still was. The list of requirements to purchase a single acre of Dryer’s land was long—so long, only the rich could afford to meet his demands, and the rich men who thrived on being elite liked the exclusiveness that owning property in

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