“I’m pretty sure that was police brutality.”

“Noelle, police brutality would be me flipping me over my knee and slapping your ass for keeping important information from me for almost twenty-four hours,” he says firmly, his eyes flaring with heat. “Now, talk.”

Sensing I’m going to get no sympathy for my predicament with my matchmaking grandmother, I sigh and tell him everything Mallory and Penny told me yesterday. His face gets angrier with seemingly every word I say, but for once, I sense that it isn’t anger at me. It’s anger at them for having withheld vital information.

Judging by Mallory’s face, I’d guess she was too busy trying to convince Drake to get her pregnant instead of telling him about Penny.

“How’d you get that out of them?”

“I’m a woman.” I perch on the edge of his desk and cross my arms over my chest.

“I noticed.” He drops his eyes to my chest, and I let my arms fall back down so my boobs aren’t quite so…boobish. With the excessive cleavage gone, Drake meets my gaze again. “Explain.”

“It’s easier to talk to other women about that stuff.” I shrug. “I’m also a pretty good interrogator, which is why I started my business instead of flipping burgers or something.”

Drake raises his eyebrows. “So, what else did they tell you?”

“Exactly what they told you, I guess. Your mistake was that you didn’t interview them together. They gave each other away.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Women share everything down to their bra sizes with their best friends, and get them together and we can’t keep shit to ourselves. Do you know nothing?”

“Evidently so.”

“Sit down, Nash,” I sigh, swinging my legs from the chair and throwing my butt into it instead. I cross my legs and wait for him to sit next to me.

“You should be aware, Ms. Bond, that swinging your legs so vigorously while wearing a dress may allow others to see your other items of clothing.”

“That was a very formal way of informing me you just saw my panties.”

“I try to be polite.”

“No, you don’t. You purposely go out of your way to be an asshole.”

“Only with you.” He winks, smirking. “Now, explain to me about woman friendships.”

Words you’ll never hear another man say. Ever.

“Actually, I have to get back to my office.” I stand. Because, hell yeah, I’m kind of totally fucking embarrassed right now. My panties vary from touching-the-belly-button to what’s-the-point-in-those? and I so cannot remember what I slipped on this morning.

Basically, the good detective either saw my Nonna-style panties or got himself a good glimpse of my vagina. Neither of which is appealing.

“Noelle,” Drake growls.

I roll my eyes and twist the key Drake left in the door. He comes up behind me and closes his hand over mine on the handle. His chest is solid against my back, and I swallow as the close proximity of our bodies causes my heart to skip a beat or two then speed up so my blood thunders through my body.

“If you know something I should know, I advise you to spit it out,” he rasps quietly, his breath cascading across my neck.

“I’ve told you everything I know,” I reply quietly, turning my face back toward him slightly.

“You’ve realized somethin’, though, and you’re hiding that.”

“Women tell each other everything, except for what they don’t want someone to know. Mallory knew things about Penny that Lena clearly didn’t. That’s what I just realized.”

“Are you saying…”

“I’m not saying anything. Now, kindly unhand me. I need a cupcake.”

He steps back slowly before coming close to me again. This time, though, we’re face-to-face and his icy-blue eyes are boring into mine. If I thought my blood was rushing through my body a moment ago, I was sorely mistaken. I can feel it all over, a sweet heat that has every hair on my body standing on end.

Drake drops his eyes to my mouth for a split second. “Nice panties,” he whispers huskily.

I snatch my hand from his and step back, disguising my sharp, lusty breath as indignation. “If I wouldn’t be arrested, I’d punch you.”

His laugh follows me down the hall, getting louder when I snap at Brody to move his butt.

If Mallory knows things about Penny that Lena didn’t, then it stands to reason that Lena may have known things about Mallory.

“Marsh!”

“Boss.” He pokes his head out of his door.

“Do we know if Lena Perkins had a life insurance policy?”

“We could in a few minutes.”

“That’s my boy.” I walk out of my office and into his.

Marshall’s office is very much like him—small and plain. The only thing in here other than work stuff is a potted plant Bekah insisted he use to brighten it up. Grecia tried talking him into having a sombrero on the wall, but he paled so quickly that we thought he was dying on us. Since then, we’ve given up on the decorating thing.

“One life insurance policy for Mrs. Lena Perkins, taken out four months ago, covers every circumstance of death,” Marshall reads.

“How much?”

“Almost a million dollars.”

I whistle low. “Lotta money for a girl who runs a clothes shop.”

“Wanna know the best part?” He looks up, a slight smirk tugging at the side of his mouth.

“I have a feeling you’re about to mess with me, Marshall.”

“The person down to collect the money isn’t her husband.”

“What?” I shriek, walking around his desk and putting a hand on the back of his chair as I read. “Hmm. Print this.”

Seconds later, I have the policy in my hands and I’m knocking on Bekah’s door.

“Come in,” she calls.

“Read this.” I put it in front of her.

Her gaze flicks side to side as she does. “That’s a big policy for a chick who owns a clothing store.”

“That’s what I said. Now, keep reading. To here.” I tap my nail against the line.

“Huh.”

“Why would Mallory Chandler be down as the recipient of eight hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars in the event of Lena’s death?”

“I’m thinking what you’re thinking.”

“I think we need to talk to Mallory.” I grab the policy. “Let’s go.”

After giving Grecia the usual spiel about messages and requesting that she try to contact Lena’s family again, I lead Bekah to her car.

“Where’s your crock of shit?”

“On my drive. And I’m still too lazy to go to Austin.” I shrug and start the car. “Let’s go by the store first. You run in and, if it’s Penny working, pretend that Lena ordered something for you before she died but she didn’t say when it’d be in. Obviously, it won’t be there, so walk out. I’ll wait in the car, and if Mallory is working, scratch the top of your head and I’ll come in. Okay?”

“Got it.”

Luckily, the store is only a couple of blocks away from my office, and we’ve barely concocted our plan by the time I pull up outside. I pull my phone out and pretend to call someone, watching discreetly for Bekah’s signal. It doesn’t come.

She walks out and gets in the car. “She’s not here.”

“Let’s try her house.” I put my phone in my lap and pull out onto the main road.

Mallory Chandler lives in one of the newer parts of town. Her apartment block is barely a year old, and if I weren’t so fond of my little house in the original part of Holly Woods, I’d be jealous. Or I would be if I weren’t aware of how much it costs to rent one of these apartments.

I park in the lot, and the shiny, new vehicles hit home how old my crock of shit is. The more places I drive, in my car or Bekah’s much newer one, the more I realize I need to go to the dealership.

Maybe I’ll get a nice Audi. I already own my house, so maybe I should spend my savings on a car.

“Okay.” Bekah scans the list of tenants. “She lives in apartment 8B.” She presses the button.

“Hello?” Mallory says through the intercom.

“Hi, Mallory. This is Noelle and Rebekah from Bond P.I. We have a couple more questions for you about Lena.”