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Chapter eighty-one

Early morning sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and carried it back to his desk.

He flicked his gaze to the door of his study, picturing the hallway off the living room that led to the stairs and then the bedrooms. His unwilling houseguests were asleep in one of them, exhausted after the break-in last night.

Leaning back, Bryan ran his fingers through his hair. Roy blamed himself for the break-in, but it wasn’t his fault. If anyone was to be pointed fingers at, then it was him. Roy’s protection was his ultimate task. He had failed.

Bryan blew out a frustrated breath. He needed more information from the investigation bureau so it could confirm what he already knew—that Fred Macintyre was responsible for this.

He was informed a few weeks ago that the man had escaped from the mental institution Bryan had made sure Fred was taken to but he kept it under wraps for there was more crucial things to handle. His men were searching for
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