When Lanny called me into his office to ask how things were going with Augie, I felt the slinky coil of guilt in my gut. I’d been nervous all day about this since Lanny had needed to put off our meeting till mid-afternoon.

“Fine. Good, I mean. Good,” I said.

Lanny raised his eyebrows at me in question. “What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?” I asked, despite knowing what he meant.

“You did a thing. With your face and your mouth. I can’t decide if you were lying to me or lying to yourself. Wanna try again?” His eyebrows were still raised, but he seemed to be more surprised than upset.

“I just… I wonder if maybe you should assign someone else to work with him,” I said even though the mere thought of another person working with Augie, touching Augie, made me want to beat the shit out of something.

“Explain,” Lanny demanded. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” I lied. “Nothing. I just… he’s…” I felt my jaw tighten, and I looked away. “He’s really cute.”

There. If I was looking to lose the respect of my mentor, that oughta do it nicely.

God, I was a total jackass.

“Oh hell,” Lanny muttered.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

And then he laughed. Like I’d said the funniest thing in the fucking world. I couldn’t help staring at him like maybe he’d had a psychotic break.

“Lan…?” I asked.

“Dude, seriously? That’s all? You can’t work with him because he’s a hot piece of ass?”

“Don’t call him that. And no, it’s not just that…” But really, it was mostly that.

“Then what else is it?”

I stared at him, desperately trying to think of what other problems there were besides the hot piece of ass thing. I came up with nothing. Not one single thing. But I couldn’t risk Lanny not taking my complaint seriously and reassigning me, so I had to get creative.

“He’s… little. I might break him or something,” I tried.

“Saint, I’ve seen you defend yourself in hand-to-hand combat while holding a toddler. Are you really trying to tell me you can’t teach a grown man self-defense without hurting him?”

“That was different,” I said, remembering the case he referred to. “That kid was robust.”

“He was a hoss. But he was still a three-year-old. Way more vulnerable than your geek.”

“He’s not my geek,” I said. God, did I really sound as childish as I thought I did? Yes. Yes, I did.

Lanny laughed again. “I don’t have anyone else stupid enough to get benched, so you’re on deck for this, Saint. Figure it out. I have faith in you. Surely you can teach this guy some moves without fucking him. Plus, he has a girlfriend, so I don’t think he’d be interested in what you have to offer anyway.”

My stomach knotted at the mention of a girlfriend. “You sure?” I asked. “I mean, not that it matters…” Lanny laughed some more and gave me a look that smacked of amused pity.

Was this where I was supposed to admit to having sexual relations with the client?

“Yeah,” Lanny said, looking down at some of the work on his desk. “Katrina Duvall. I’ve met her out with him before at a black-tie thing. Gorgeous woman. She’s an anchor for one of the local TV stations.”

He had to mention the woman was gorgeous. Either way, it didn’t matter. They weren’t an item, and Augie was a client. Why couldn’t I get that through my head for god’s sake?

Lanny looked back up at me from the paperwork in front of him. “What are you still doing here? Conference room, Rex is waiting for you. Go.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Fine.”

“Try not to seduce the client, Saint,” he called after me with a chuckle. “Although, to be honest, I’m more worried about your feelings getting hurt from his rejection than him firing us for inappropriate touching. He’s a bit out of your league, don’t you think?”

I shot him the bird over my shoulder as I walked out.

When I got to the conference room, I was surprised to see a young woman at the table I didn’t recognize. She was so young, she looked like she might even still be in high school.

I greeted Rex and lifted a brow in the newcomer’s direction.

“Oh!” Rex said. “This is Skipper. She’s our new hacker.”

Skipper’s nostrils flared. “Jesus, Rex. Way to just put it out there. Why don’t you call the cops next or the FBI?”

“Hi, Skipper, I’m Saint,” I said, holding out my hand to shake.

“Oh, I don’t touch people. Sorry.”

She went back to tapping on a laptop that seemed more stickers and decals than megabytes of data. I glanced back at Rex. Where did you find her? I mouthed.

I wasn’t sure, but I thought maybe he replied, Darth Wem.

Whatever that meant.

“Have a seat,” Rex said out loud. “How much do you know about the Stiel Foundation in terms of where it puts its money?”

“Conservative efforts. Things like Second Amendment defense, anti-abortion campaigns, homes for unwed mothers, veteran rehab efforts, and research for policy change.” I listed off the ones I remembered from my short research.

“Right. As well as some great community projects like food banks, job assistance, and low-income housing. And in most cases, it’s all very aboveboard. We haven’t seen evidence of any of these beneficiary groups involved in any kind of violence or threat of violence. Obviously, you never know. There could be things we don’t see, but for the most part, all of the organizations check out. Except this one oddball beneficiary that seems to be a shell for something hinky.”

“What do you mean? What is it?”

This time it was Skipper who spoke up. “CSP, which stands for Community Surge Properties, is a registered nonprofit that seems to provide residential housing for low-income families. But when we dug deeper into its actual real estate holdings, we discovered the properties it owns only appear as low-income housing on paper. In reality, they are a combination of high-value development projects and historically important properties. Somehow, the people who run this organization are managing to get around the historic property renovation regulations by having these properties redesignated from historically protected to community beneficial. I don’t understand the intricacies of the zoning and shit yet, but it’s certainly raising a crap ton of red flags.”

Rex looked excited. “Yeah, and then you add the fact that these assholes could be collecting the low-income housing tax credit on top of having nonprofit status already. And they’re selling these units for top dollar.”

My brain had already made the connection between the fact that both the hinky non-profit CSP and the primary Stiel family business involved real estate investment. Did the Stiels know this was what their money was going toward, or did they think CSP was actually building low-income housing?

“How have they not been caught?” I wondered out loud.

Skipper typed some more without taking her eyes off me. “Most of these properties are located in two distinct areas, which means the housing authority and any other group involved in oversight is limited to these same two districts. One is Dallas County and the other is Cross County.”

“Hobie is in Cross County,” I said. “Why would this organization care about a county that has two dinky rural towns in it? And what do Dallas and Cross counties have in common besides both being in Texas?”

I knew the town of Valley Cross had some low-income housing in it, but I wasn’t as sure about Hobie. It was always understood that the poorer families tended to live in Valley Cross while the wealthier families lived in Hobie.

“Well, both have significant amounts of property owned by CSP,” Skipper said. “So like, according to deed records, the Stiel Corporation also owns property in Cross County, including the building next to your brother’s pub.”

“The antique shop? That would make sense considering Augie Stiel runs it,” I said.

“No. That one is managed by a realty holding company, but the building itself is privately owned by a Stiel family trust of some kind. The Stiel Corporation owns the one between the antiques and the pub, and CSP owns the one on the other side of the antique shop.”

I thought about the children’s toy and gift shop on the other side of Augie’s store from the pub. It was definitely not low-income housing. It was an upscale grandma shop with designer baby clothes and handcrafted toys. The vacant space between Augie and the pub, apparently owned by the Stiel Corporation, had been an old-fashioned pizza parlor when I was growing up.

“So the Stiel Corp one is vacant,” I began. “But the CSP one is occupied by a specialty gift shop that’s been there at least three years, if not longer. As far as I know, they have no plans of moving. Plus, there’s no way Hobie would approve low-income housing right on the damned town square.”

Rex leaned back in his chair. “Sounds super weird. Like these two groups are connected somehow. Do you think Augie’s involved?”

“No! Definitely not,” I said. “I can’t imagine him involved in something if he knew it was shady or breaking rules. The guy is a rule follower. He won’t even jaywalk in our tiny town in the middle of the night.”

It didn’t escape my notice that I’d claimed Hobie as mine. Even though it had been a long time since I’d made my home there, Hobie had always been a part of me. I’d missed it more and more since my brothers had seemed to be drawn back to it in recent years, and meeting Augie there had made that feeling even stronger.

“Maybe you should ask him about it, Saint,” Rex said after the three of us spent quite a bit of time talking it through. “Skipper and I will keep digging tomorrow, but in the meantime you need to have a conversation with the one Stiel who might be willing to shed some light on this.”

I let out a sigh. “Okay. I’ll talk to him tomorrow at our next session.”

I looked at the time and realized it was well into the evening hours. We’d been working longer than I’d expected.

I stretched and stood up. “It’s late. You guys should get home. I’m going to go work out my frustration in the gym before I get on the road. Let me know what else you find out, especially who runs CSP and who ultimately benefits from these deals. And thanks, guys.”

I was anxious to get back to Hobie to see Augie, but I needed time to think about the best way to approach it. I didn’t really know him well enough to point-blank ask if his family was involved in some kind of tax scam or corporate fraud. And I wasn’t sure Augie would even know if they were. Maybe I’d begin by asking him about the properties in Hobie and whether or not he knew who owned them.

First, I had to get on the treadmill or lift the hell out of some weights before I thought I’d be calm enough to sit in the truck for a couple of hours. Luckily, the security company had a huge training gym on the premises.

Just as I rounded the corner toward the locker rooms, I looked up and saw Augie. We both stopped and stared at each other. His eyes were stormy behind the lenses of his glasses, and the tic marks of worry were out in full force over his brow.

My heart lurched. “What’s wrong?” I asked, instead of my other question, which was why the hell he was at my workplace in Dallas.

He shook his head and clenched his jaw before speaking. “Does this place have a heavy bag I can punch by any chance?”

I blinked at him for a minute before clearing the cobwebs. “Yeah, sure. There are spare workout clothes in the cabinet on the left, and you can change in here.”

He nodded and turned into the locker room I indicated without sparing me a second glance. I quickly made my way to one of the supply cubbies in the gym to find us some gloves.

A few minutes later, Augie joined me and gloved up without speaking. We took turns punching and holding the heavy bag for each other until both of us were nice and warm.

When Augie stopped punching just long enough to use the hem of his shirt to wipe his face, I tore my eyes away from his flat stomach and sexy-as-hell happy trail to glance at his face.

“I get the feeling you’re not here for another self-defense lesson. You seem to be intent on teaching this bag a lesson.”

He dropped the tail of his shirt and looked up at me, sliding his glasses back up his nose with the back of his glove.

“Whatever. It’s fine.”

I cocked my head at his words. “Augie. What’s going on?”

He hesitated before looking away. I stepped closer so no one else in the gym could hear us. “Is this about what happened last night? Is this about us…”

“No,” he said firmly. “Not at all. I’m sorry if you thought that.”

I couldn’t deny the relief I felt in my gut, but he was still clearly upset about something. “Then what happened?”

“Work shit. Family shit.”

I waited, knowing that wasn’t all of it.

He walked over to where I’d dropped a couple of bottles of water by some towels. After peeling off the gloves, he grabbed a bottle of water and cracked it open. As he swallowed, I enjoyed the movement of the muscles in his neck and the drops of sweat trailing down to the dip in his collarbone. Shit, maybe I enjoyed it a little too much. I shook my head and grabbed the other water, biting the ends of my gloves to yank them off first.

“I think my family is involved in the burglaries,” he said.

Despite the information Rex and Skipper had given me, I was surprised at Augie’s words.

“What makes you say that?” I asked, gesturing for him to take a seat on a bench near the sparring mat.

“It’s going to sound ridiculous,” he began, forking his fingers through his damp hair before letting out a breath. “But my great-aunt left me an antique personal letter-writing box, called a slope, in her will. It’s something that’s been in our family for over two hundred years and holds a packet of love letters written to the woman who owned the box from the man who handcrafted it for her.”

“I don’t understand. Is it worth a lot of money?” I asked.

“No. I mean, it is, but not the kind of money that would get my family’s attention.”

“Do they want control of the history inside? Or…” I was trying to figure out what his family could possibly want with an old antique box enough to steal it from his possession. “Did they ask you for it and you refused to give it to them?”

He shook his head. “Not really. Just… just bear with me for a minute and let me talk it through, okay?”

I murmured an apology for interrupting him but forced myself not to take his hand into mine the way I wanted to. Instead, I concentrated on listening.

“First, the home invasion. Three of my slopes were missing from the collection in the large cabinet in the living room. The rest were smashed to pieces. Now that I think back on it, the ones that were taken all bore some resemblance to Melody’s slope. Same type of wood, same basic shape and size. They weren’t at all the same age, but someone looking based on only the description wouldn’t know that.”

I wondered how he could tell those three missing boxes weren’t part of the broken pile on the floor, but I didn’t interrupt to ask. The man knew his antiques, so I trusted he was sure of what he said.

“Another thing that was missing was a jar of old keys. Melody’s slope will not open without a key or without bashing the box to pieces. If someone in my family wanted the box, I have to assume they wouldn’t want to break it. But that jar of keys didn’t hold the key to any of those three slopes or Melody’s slope.”

Augie twisted the small hand towel with his fingers.

“Then, when my car was left open in Hobie, there was nothing missing because there was nothing of value in the vehicle except the gym clothes you’d given me. And when it was broken into in the parking garage at Grandfather’s building, one of the things missing was a box of old keys again.”

“The ones that came with the vases,” I added. “Not any that would open a slope.”

“Right. So here’s the part where my family comes in.” He took a quick sip of water from the bottle before continuing. There were muffled sounds of people passing in the hallway outside the sparring room, but no one entered.

“The slope came into my possession almost a year ago when Grandfather gave it to me after Melody’s death. No one had mentioned it since then until this week. That day you helped me clean up the keys in the shop, my mother asked me to bring the slope to Dallas for dinner. I forgot it in my haste to get to the city, and that’s the night my car was broken into. At that dinner, my uncle Eric asked about the slope too. Then the night my grandfather showed up at the farmhouse, he asked to see the slope. I brought it out to him, not even thinking much about it since it had been his sister’s. Then tonight I got lured into town supposedly for my aunt’s birthday dinner, but when I arrived it was just my cousin Brett. Apparently everyone else had canceled. Then even Brett asked me about the damned slope.”

“What the hell is in that box?” I wondered out loud.

“Nothing. I mean, love letters. That’s it. I’ve read them a hundred times, Saint. It’s just letters back and forth between two young people in love. There’s no mention of buried treasure or hidden gold ingots. No historical significance outside of our family’s ancestry.”

“Did you tell Brett that?”

“Yes, but… ah… I may have also set a kind of… trap?”

I glanced at him and saw him looking down at his lap where his fingernail was plucking at an edge of the paper water bottle label.

Little Augie Stiel playing private detective? It kinda turned me on, if I was being honest.

“Come again, Five-Oh?”

Augie looked up at me with his typical worry divots front and center. “I told him I sold it. The box, I mean. And when he asked me where I put the papers, I told him they were in a wooden chest above the shop.”

“Where is the box itself? I’m assuming you didn’t actually sell it?”

“It’s at the farmhouse, hidden. But I don’t trust that people couldn’t find it if they looked hard enough.”

It wasn’t lost on me that he’d trusted me enough to tell me where it was without hesitation.

“Why don’t we go get it and put it in a safe-deposit box at the bank just in case? I don’t want anyone coming around to the farmhouse looking for it again.”

He shrugged. “I guess so, but I think I’d like another self-defense lesson just in case. This whole situation really gives me a bad feeling. I’m probably being paranoid.” Augie laughed and looked down at the bottle he was holding. I put my hand on his elbow to give him a reassuring squeeze, and he flinched. I stared at him before looking down at his elbow and seeing dark red marks like early bruises forming.

“Did he fucking touch you?” I growled, inspecting the marks more closely. Augie yanked his arm away but didn’t contradict me.

“Augie, answer me. Did that man hurt you? Who grabbed your elbow like this?”

“It’s fine,” he said to his feet. The poor man’s face was red, and he was clearly embarrassed. “You would have been proud of me actually. I barked at him to stop touching me at the same time I yanked out of his hold and took two giant strides back.”

My heart squeezed at the image. “Of course I’m proud of you, but I need you to consider some personal protection,” I said.

His eyes came up to search mine, and we locked gazes for a few long beats. Something seemed to pass between us then, but it was fleeting. It was there one moment and gone the next.

“What, like hiring a bodyguard?” he teased. The edges of his mouth were drawn up in a small grin, and I couldn’t help but do the same, letting the tone change so the tension would dissipate.

“Perhaps. I hear the good ones are scary and intimidating. Then there are the sleepy-kitten ones. You can probably get that kind at a discount.” I’d tried to soften my suggestion with humor, but I was really very serious about it.

He laughed a real laugh and pretended to punch me in the ribs. “Shut the fuck up. Just because you don’t scare me doesn’t mean you wouldn’t scare other people. Just don’t let them see you smile. That fucking tooth is too adorable to scare anyone.”

The minute the words were out of his mouth his entire face bloomed red, and I knew he regretted what he’d said. Too bad. It was out there, and I wasn’t about to let it go.

“What tooth?” I asked with a grin, feeling my cock wake up in the face of a flirty August Stiel.

“Never mind.”

“Nope. Too late. The redneck twisty one?”

More red blotches appeared on his neck. And his discomfort only made my dick harder.

“It’s cute,” he said in a soft voice. “I like it.”

My stomach tumbled, and part of me wished Lanny could have been there to see how none of this was really my fault. Augie was irresistible, and it was taking every shred of self-control I had not to throw him down on the mat and lay my body on top of his. I couldn’t do that. I was on the clock, and Lanny was still somewhere in the building.

I was completely fucked by this guy. Royally fucked.

“Augie,” I murmured. “Let me protect you. It’s important to me. More important than anything else right now.”

There was an awkward moment where his eyes darted away from me. The skin of his neck turned blotchy, and his cheeks flushed more than before. He was so expressive and reactive. I decided no matter what he said to my suggestion of protection, I would do whatever it took to keep him safe.

He cleared his throat and stood up before looking down at me with a completely neutral expression. “I’ll um… I’ll think about it. In the meantime, what moves are you teaching me today?”

If he only knew all the ways in which I wanted to answer that question.