“I take it we do not like this boyfriend?” Xander queried.
Grayson’s expression became, in a word, murderous. “He touches her when she doesn’t want to be touched. I saw the father do the same thing to Acacia—a hand on her shoulder, inching toward her neck.” There were slabs of granite softer than Grayson’s jaw at that moment. “The son is whiny,” he told them. “The father is dangerous.”
“So we take him out.” Nash took off his second-favorite cowboy hat.
Jameson smiled. Kent Trowbridge didn’t know what he’d gotten himself into. No one stood a chance against any two of the Hawthorne brothers, let alone all four. “What do we have to work with, Gray?”
Grayson’s reply was immediate. “Illegal activity to hold over his head if we can find proof that he’s the one who emptied Acacia’s trust.” Grayson’s smile was measured and slow. “There’s a safe in his home office. I didn’t have time to crack it the last time I was there, but this may call for a return trip.”
Jameson leaned forward, ready to play. “What else?”
Grayson leaned back. “I have all of his passwords. Guy kept them taped to the inside of his desk.”
Unfortunate for him, Jameson thought. And very fortunate for us.
Across the aisle of the plane, Nash looked from Xander to Avery. “You two thinking what I’m thinking?”
Xander grinned. “This should be fun.”
CHAPTER 94
GRAYSON
Every problem had solutions, plural. Complex problems were fluid, dynamic. But as it turned out, Kent Trowbridge wasn’t all that complex, and Grayson was certain that he wouldn’t be a problem for long.
Two days. That was how long it took for Grayson and his brothers to get what they needed, which gave Grayson plenty of time to consider the where and when of this confrontation.
Racquetball wasn’t one of Grayson’s sports of choice, but the racquetball court that Trowbridge had reserved for his weekly game against a family friend suited Grayson’s purposes nicely—particularly given that the friend in question was a federal judge.
The same judge who’d signed the FBI warrant.
The clear glass wall separating the hall from court number seven allowed Grayson the perfect view of his quarry. Even better, it allowed his quarry to eventually realize that he was being watched.
Grayson had dressed for the occasion: expensive suit, expensive shoes, a black-and-gold Rolex on his wrist. He didn’t look like he belonged in an athletic facility. There was an advantage to making sure your opponent felt underdressed.
The judge noticed him first. Grayson didn’t bat an eye. He just kept watching the two of them, the way a man on the floor of the stock exchange might watch the boards.
It took all of a minute for the game to come to a pause. The judge pushed open the glass door, annoyed. “Can we help you?”
“I can wait.” Grayson put very little inflection in those words. “I’d hate to interrupt your match.”
Trowbridge made his way out into the hall, his racket dangling from one hand. He scowled. “Mr. Hawthorne.”
Grayson had the general sense that Trowbridge was using mister the way a high school principal might. It wasn’t a sign of respect, that was for sure—but either way, the form of address he’d chosen backfired.
“Hawthorne?” the judge asked.
Grayson offered the man the most perfunctory of smiles. “Guilty as charged.” He turned the full force of his gaze and attention to the judge. “You recently signed a federal warrant for my younger sisters’ home.” Grayson’s tone was conversational, because he’d learned from the master that the most powerful people in the world never needed to do more than converse. “What a coincidence that the two of you know each other.”
Trowbridge, Grayson saw with no small amount of satisfaction, was getting irritated. “Whatever you think you’re doing here, young man, Acacia won’t thank you for it.”
That was doubtlessly true. “She probably won’t thank the forensic accountants I hired, either.”
A vein pulsed near Trowbridge’s temple, but he made a valiant attempt at holding on to his calm. He turned to his racquetball partner. “Same time next week?”
The judge looked long and hard at Grayson, then glanced back at Trowbridge. “I’ll let you know.”
Soon enough, Grayson and his prey were alone. Right on cue, Trowbridge’s phone buzzed.
Grayson smiled. “I’m sure that’s not anything too critical.”