Page 67 of Hart's Redemption

I felt faint. “Josh owns all of this land?”

“Correction, you own all of this land. As Detective Hart is currently incarcerated, the deeds fall to you in his absence. And may I remind you that this is only the most recent acquisition? This brings the sum total of Hart Estate land totals within the state of Washington to twenty-five million acres.”

I was in shock from my conversation with Conrad and being away from my mate for so long. That was the only explanation. Twenty-five million acres… that was bigger than some countries. I slowly shook my head and couldn’t seem to stop. “This is all too much.”

Lombardi made the tiniest sound that might have been a snicker. “He did mention you’d likely be overwhelmed. Were that to happen, he advised that Inotdirect your attention to the following three pages that outline his international holdings.”

Sure enough, I skimmed the next three pages, and black spots swam across my vision. Josh wasn’t wealthy; he was obscenely wealthy. Man easily had enough to buy the whole damn country and institute a new government if he saw fit. I glanced back up at the lawyer—my lawyer—in time to see the ghost of a smile before it disappeared. “Is all of this from the Harker side?”

His smile turned feral, revealing terrifyingly sharp teeth, and his eyes burned as if they held actual fucking flames. “No. The other data tab shows the breakdown of the Harker Estate. The majority of this has been singularly amassed under the Hart Estate.”

“Full moon at midnight,” I said in a shocked whisper. “How? Josh is only in his thirties.”

A malevolent glee shone in Lombardi’s eyes. “I have a particular skill set when it comes to amassing wealth and keeping it away from prying eyes.”

“Prying eyes like his mother’s?”

“He said you were quick. Yes, Beatrice Harker lives on a comfortable stipend, completely oblivious to the fact that heraccess and rights to the Harker fortune haven’t existed for years.”

I pounced on that tidbit. “Josh has been giving her a stipend all this time?”

“Yes.”

“So, in order to send her said stipend, you would have to know where she is.”

“Just so.” Lombardi’s smile broadened as if he was enjoying my leaps of logic.

“You know where she is.”

Fire flickered in his eyes once more. “I always know where Beatrice Harker is.”

“I want her arrested. And when they drag her murderous ass to the same hellhole they’ve dropped Josh in, I want to be there.”

“As you wish, Dr. Bennett. I will see that it is done and have my contacts work to unearth the detective’s whereabouts. If you could sign that document, I will get started immediately.”

I grabbed the stylus and applied my unique signature, enhanced with a thumbprint, to verify authenticity.

Lombardi retrieved the folder and inspected the line. “Excellent. Should anything else arise, I have already taken the liberty of uploading my contact information to your bio-ware. Is there anything else I can assist you with before I leave?”

“Yes. I want a contract drawn up.”

Lombardi’s smile touched his eyes, lending them a sinister cast. “I thought you might.” He passed me the final data tab, then extended his hand. “It has truly been a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Bennett. I foresee a superb partnership in our future.”

Chapter 22

Josh

Journalingwasofficiallymyleast favorite pastime in the history of pastimes. It didn’t even matter that I was finally getting halfway decent at clearing my mind and purging my negative thoughts with the literal wiping of the page. The exercise was becoming the bane of my existence. The biggest problem, of course, was that no matter how at ease my body became, no matter how calm I made my mind, Elijah wasn’t there and he never would be.

Which brought my turbulent thoughts right back to the place I’d been trying to avoid for the last two hours. I had no idea how Elijah was faring or if his pack was okay. Had my mother returned to finish what I’d started? How much of the pack wasstill alive? Had Tommy gotten control of his moon sickness? Was Elijah still running? Had he finally confronted the Klamath Alpha?

Frustrated with my current attempt at sweeping away negative thoughts, I gave up the exercise. With a huff, I tossed the journal onto the desk, stripped down, and headed towards the small shower obscured by a thin wall. The barrier hid nothing, existing solely to prevent water from coating the room either by overflow or spray. I activated the embedded panel with a touch and keyed the water to the highest temperature the system would allow.

The spray crashed over me, sending tendrils of steam curling from the cooler basin of the shower floor. It wasn’t nearly hot enough to soothe my aching muscles, nor was the steam thick enough to fill the hollow inside my chest. I braced my tired arms against the wall. Between the constant exercise and soul-scraping therapy, I was experiencing a level of weariness I’d never encountered. Yanesh held there was more to it than the physical and mental exhaustion, but the truth he hinted at wasn’t one I dared entertain.

If I’m suffering, is Elijah?

Elijah.