The second man went to Olivia. She lifted her arms and let him run his hands along her sides. The way he took his time made Sharp want to shoot him. But at the same time, he didn’t want to die. Also, his gun was locked in the car. So he bit his tongue as the guard felt around Olivia’s bra line, clearly looking for a wire, but the hostile smirk on his face said he was enjoying the process.

Olivia didn’t cower or cringe. Instead, she bore an expression he’d never seen before, but then, he had never witnessed her being manhandled by a thug. She was pissed but also cool and collected.

When it was Sharp’s turn, he lifted the hem of his T-shirt. The guard ran his hands down the outside of Sharp’s legs and felt around his ankles. The whole pat down took five seconds. Sharp was glad he wasn’t wearing a clinch piece.

“All good?” Sharp asked without turning around.

“Get in.” The driver opened the rear door.

Sharp slid onto the leather seat. Olivia entered the vehicle on the other side. The two men got in.

The passenger handed two pieces of fabric over the seat. “Put these on.”

Olivia took them and gave one to Sharp. He held it up. A black hood. With an apprehensive blink, she tugged hers over her head.

“Is this really necessary?” Sharp asked.

The driver met his eyes in the rearview mirror.

Sharp put on the hood. The engine started. A minute later, the sedan lurched into motion.

Sweat rolled down Sharp’s back. What had they gotten themselves into?

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The vehicle came to a stop, but Sharp had lost track of how long the vehicle had been in motion. It felt as if they’d been driving in circles.

The hood was snatched from Sharp’s face. Overhead lights blinded him.

Next to him, Olivia squirmed. Her hood had also been removed, and her hair was tousled around her face.

The driver and passenger climbed out of the vehicle and opened the rear door. “Let’s go. Out of the car.”

Olivia stepped out. She wobbled, then caught her balance.

Sharp climbed out and stood next to her, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the bright light. The car had been driven into a small, empty warehouse. The overhead doors were down. There were no windows or signs to indicate where they were. A second black sedan was angled next to theirs. The sound of the car door shutting echoed in the two-story space.

The building was narrow, with a pallet of boxes in the center stacked six high. Sharp wondered what was inside them. Four men sat in chairs or leaned against the wall. Most were dressed in well-fitted jeans and T-shirts, like young professionals at work on casual Friday. Despite their lounging postures, they were focused much too intensely on Olivia and Sharp. He saw no guns but didn’t doubt that they had weapons handy.

The look in their eyes sent a chill through Sharp’s belly. They were dark and cold and filled with a vicious malice that Sharp had seen only a few times in his long police career. Every one of these men was extremely dangerous. Each would kill without blinking.

Hell, these men would kill if there wasn’t anything good to watch on Netflix.

Sharp automatically put his body between the men and Olivia, not that it would matter. If these men wanted to hurt her, there would be nothing Sharp could do to protect her. He was outnumbered six to one. One of the men sneered at Sharp’s chivalrous gesture.

They all knew it was an empty act.

Offices lined one wall. A man came out of one of the doors. In jeans and a polo shirt, he was whipcord-lean. Sharp pictured the photos on the whiteboard. This man looked exactly like Joe Martin had twenty-five years before.

“Aaron, bring them in,” a voice commanded from the room.

Clearly Aaron, Tina’s half brother, was still involved in his father’s business.

Aaron waved them forward. The door was guarded by a man the size of a refrigerator. The guard’s head was shaved, and the biceps that bulged out below his shirtsleeves were as big around as Sharp’s head.

Aaron stepped aside and gestured toward the open door. “After you.”

Sharp went in first. A rectangular table and eight chairs were set up like a conference room. Smoke filled the room. An older man sat at the head of the table. A cane was hooked on the table at his side. Sharp didn’t need an introduction to know this was Joe Martin, although he’d aged significantly since the photo on the whiteboard back at the office was taken. He looked much older than sixty. Prison had ruined him. He was twenty pounds underweight, and his skin was an unhealthy white. He wore gray slacks and a black long-sleeve button-down shirt with a dark-gray sport coat. Yet, despite his physical weakness, he radiated power.

When Joe walked into a room, everyone knew it. He had that same vicious look in his eyes as the men in the warehouse but amplified to the one hundredth power. Joe’s eyes also gleamed with acute intelligence.

The end of his cigarette flared as he dragged on it. “Have they been searched?” he asked Aaron.

Aaron nodded. “Yes.”

“Were they carrying weapons?” Joe flicked the end of his cigarette into an ashtray.

“No,” Aaron said.

Joe turned to Sharp and Olivia and gestured toward two chairs to the left of him. “Please, sit.”

Olivia eased into the seat next to Joe. Sharp sat next to her. Aaron backed to the wall and leaned on it. Sharp did not like having Aaron outside his direct view. He shifted his position until he could see them both.

“I apologize for the drama,” Joe said. “My son takes no chances with my safety. I’ve been betrayed many times. In the end, only family can be trusted.”

Sharp’s gaze darted between Joe and his son. Aaron stiffened, his posture angry. Was he mad because others had betrayed his father? Or for some other reason? Maybe pissed-off was just Aaron’s normal state of being.

Joe continued. “I survived my sentence. Plenty of people want to kill me. I couldn’t have you see where we are. Nor could I have anyone see you come in here. The parole board turned down every one of my petitions. I served my whole sentence. I am not required to report to anyone. No one knows where I am, and I intend to keep it that way.”

Sharp nodded. “We understand.”

“Then you’ll also understand if I ask you not to make any sudden movements.” Joe set his cigarette in the ashtray and produced a long, thin knife from somewhere.

Sharp had not seen him pull the weapon, which disturbed him.

Joe twirled the knife in his hand—not in a showy manner but alternating between a forward and reverse grip. “I am no longer a young healthy man.”

Yet Sharp did not want to fuck with him. Joe kept his eyes on Sharp while the knife smoothly snapped forward and back, his grip secure, strong, and experienced enough that he could handle the knife deftly without looking at it. Sharp had no interest in learning how fast Joe could put that knife to use.

“You wanted information about me,” Joe said, his voice low and chilling.

“How does it feel to be released from prison after all these years?” Olivia began.

Joe’s chin lifted, and he met her gaze with a long, hard stare, the knife still in a reverse grip. “Why don’t you ask me what you really want to know? Why you really came here?”

The hairs on the back of Sharp’s neck lifted. He did not like the direction the conversation had taken. It felt as if Joe were interviewing them instead of the other way around.

Showing the first crack in her confidence, Olivia swallowed. Her lovely throat shifted, looking as delicate and breakable as a swan’s. Smoke rose in a skinny plume from the lit cigarette to the ceiling.

“Why do you think I’m here?” She tossed the question back at him.

Joe’s murky eyes narrowed to cruel slits. “To find out if I am responsible for the murder of my daughter’s husband.”

Olivia didn’t miss a beat. “Are you?”

The woman had a brass set.

The old man clearly thought so too. He snorted with amusement. “No.”

“How do you know that’s why we came here?” she asked.

“I know everything,” Joe said slowly, pausing to let that fact sink in. “I know where you live, and I know where Tina lives. I follow the news in Randolph County. Her husband’s murder was a big story.”

Sharp figured the pretense was over, so he jumped in. “How long have you known where she was?”

“I tried to find her for the first year after she disappeared. I was angry with her, as you might imagine.” Joe stabbed the table with the knife. Leaving it quivering, he picked up his cigarette and took a drag. The embers burned close to the filter. “She was very good at hiding and kept a low profile for a very long time. After I’d been released, I found that technology was very much my friend. Changing her name was clever. Those records are not as readily available as marriage and birth certificates. But it was only a matter of time and persistence until I found her. Once my agent discovered her new identity, her recent marriage and home purchase made tracing her very simple. Marriages and real estate transactions are public record. Most are accessible on the internet. It is much harder to stay hidden these days, isn’t it?”

A sudden chill flashed through Sharp’s bones. Had Joe been watching Tina since he was released?

As if he could read minds, Joe stubbed out the cigarette and said, “If I had wanted to hurt her, I could have done so many times.”

The fact that he’d been incarcerated had not affected his ability to communicate with his men and give orders. Criminals thrived in prison. There was a profitable drug trade behind bars. In fact, some experts considered prison to be a form of higher education for aspiring young criminals.

“Why didn’t you?” Sharp asked.

Joe considered the question for a few seconds before exhaling loudly through his nose. “If I had found her immediately, I would have made a different decision. I was angry, and I had plenty of time to imagine the ways I could take revenge. She was not the only one to turn on me. But the others were not smart enough to get away, and they paid for their betrayal.” Cruelty twisted his mouth.