Claimed Hard by My Best Friend novel · Chapter 13 of 24

Chapter 13: Not Stupid

We dressed in the dark and said nothing in the elevator.

Malachi drove up the bay road with one hand on the wheel and the other on my knee.

The nurse let us in at the side door and led us up the back stairs.

Frank Mahoney sat in his hospital bed with the lamp on and his good hand on the blanket.

He looked at me for a long moment.

"Miss Flanagan," he said. "Sit."

His speech was slow, but there wasn't a single slurred word in it.

I sat. Malachi stayed standing at the foot of the bed.

"You can talk," I said.

"Since June." Frank nodded at the nurse, and she went out and shut the door. "The stroke was real. My right hand is still nothing. My head was never touched."

"Two months," Malachi said.

"I let the house think I was gone. I wanted to see who came for the chair."

"Dane came for the chair."

"Dane came for the keys and the cars." Frank's mouth twisted. "Now I know what he is."

I leaned forward.

"You froze my father's note," I said. "Four years. And you let me think the man in front of you left because he didn't care."

"I kept my word to your Malachi. I never promised to explain it to you."

"He isn't my Malachi."

"No," Frank said mildly. "He isn't."

Malachi made a small sound, and I did not look at him.

"Here is what I did on Saturday," Frank said. He lifted his eyes to his son. "You signed the Gilt to Dane. You didn't read the page."

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