need to know that, either, he thought, doing his best to appear impassive.
The next thing out of Natalie’s mouth threw him for a loop.
“Did you have my sister killed?”
It took him a second to find his tongue. “What?” The implication behind the question had him reeling. How could she even think that? “Do you actually believe that I would be capable of something like that?”
Though she was certain that she gave no indication of it, she was struggling against her attraction to him. The fact that she could feel that, after all that had happened, disgusted her. She was supposed to be a stronger person than that. Right now, Natalie felt as if her emotions had been dumped into a blender, the button set on “high.”
“I discovered a long time ago that I’m not exactly a great judge of character.”
He had that coming, too, Matt thought. He refrained from commenting on her words. Instead, he answered her unsettling question.
“No, I didn’t kill Candace.” And then he hit her with a question of his own. “What could have possibly been my motive?”
She’d asked because her father had planted the idea in her head, but she didn’t want to bring him into the conversation just yet. “When they found her, Candace’s ring was missing.”
He stared at her, stunned. “Robbery?” he asked in disbelief. All right, his family had had some shady dealings in the past, but he himself had never been found guilty of anything. Had never traveled on the wrong side of the law. “You think I killed her to rob her?” Even as he said it, it sounded ludicrous. Matt looked at her for a long moment. “I don’t believe you believe that,” he told her quietly.
She didn’t know what to believe. Her heart told her that Matt had nothing to do with this, but her heart hadn’t exactly been batting a thousand.
“I really don’t care what you believe,” she informed him coldly. “The ring is worth millions. People do a lot of things for a lot less.”
“People, maybe,” he allowed. “But not me.” And then the import of what she was saying hit him. “You’re talking about the Tears of the Quetzal? That was the ring that was stolen?”
“As if you didn’t know. Someone saw you escort Candace out.”
They were attracting attention despite the closed door. Some of the people in the outer office kept glancing in their direction. Matt walked over to glass walls and one by one lowered the blinds, giving them privacy.
It also created a sense of intimacy that he really didn’t want. Right now, it only complicated things. But he wanted prying eyes even less, so he left the blinds where they were. “A lot of people saw me escort Candace out.”
“How far out?” Natalie challenged heatedly. “To your car? Maybe you decided to take her for a little drive and wound up at her place?”
Candace and Natalie might have been twins but he had never met two sisters who were so utterly different, not just in looks but in personality. He had never experienced the slightest attraction, not even momentarily, to Candace.
“I walked her to the entrance,” he told Natalie. “Where she went from there and with whom, I have no idea.” She looked unconvinced. “I can show you the tape that verifies that.” Although, he thought, he shouldn’t have to.
“Tapes can be doctored,” she countered. “As I remember, you were pretty good at that sort of thing. ‘Enhancing’ I think you called it.”
That both wounded and irritated him, but he let it go. Instead, he appealed to her logic. Her logical mind was one of the things he’d loved about her.
“Natalie, think about it. What could I do with the ring if I did take it? I can’t fence it. It’s not some little piece of glitter. This rock is famous. Pieces have been written about it. A lot of people know what it looks like.”
Everything Matt said made sense, but she wasn’t willing to let him off the hook just yet. She needed more answers. “My father says he’s into your family for a lot of money.”
He was surprised her father had admitted that. Arrangements had been made secretly, so no one would know that Rothchild was in financial trouble.
“The family lent him money, yes.”
Matt couldn’t help thinking how ironic that was. Eight years ago, Harold Rothchild had come to him for the express purpose of buying him off. The man had offered him a quarter of a million dollars if he promised to disappear and never get in contact with Natalie again. Angry and offended because he knew that in Rothchild’s eyes, he wasn’t good enough for Natalie, he’d told her father what the man could do with his money and his offer.
And then, days later, his brother had succeeded in doing what Rothchild couldn’t. He’d succeeded in making him leave Natalie, but for completely different reasons.
Natalie was looking at him suspiciously. They both knew what her father thought of the Schaffer family. “Why would your family give him a loan?”
Because Rothchild had told Natalie about the loan, he didn’t feel bound by the initial promise of secrecy surrounding the deal. “Your father overextended himself. A note was due on his casino, and he stood to lose everything.” He shrugged carelessly, his custom-made jacket rustling. “I was in a position to help.” He’d been the one who had brokered the deal, acting as a go-between with his family and Rothchild.
That didn’t answer her question. She pinned him with a look. “Again, why?”
He’d asked himself the same thing. This was a man who, eight years ago, would have gladly seen him run out of Vegas on a rail. But then he rethought his position. “Because he was your father, and I thought that what happened to him affected you. If he had to file for bankruptcy, your inheritance might be in jeopardy as well.” He smiled at her. “Let’s just say I thought I owed it to you.”
Damn it, his smile wasn’t supposed to affect her anymore, wasn’t supposed to make her knees feel weak. She was a cop, for God’s sake.
“You don’t owe me anything, Schaffer,” she told him, her voice edged with steel. “Except for straight answers.”
“I gave you that,” he told her. “I didn’t kill Candace. I didn’t have her killed, either,” he added, covering all his bases. That, hopefully, out of the way, he had questions of his own. “How did she die?” he wanted to know.
She didn’t answer him immediately. Instead, she looked at him for a long moment, debating whether or not she believed him. God help her, she did. Did that make her a fool?
After a beat, she decided there was no harm in answering. The papers would be carrying the story soon enough, and the media always had a way of ferreting things out.
“My guess is that the blow to the back of her head did it. And whoever was there got in a few licks on her face as well.” Natalie shuddered. Had Candace suffered before she died? Lord, she hoped not. “Revenge, hatred, I don’t know.”
His eyes held hers. “And you thought I would do that?”
She gave him a nonanswer. “I had to ask.”
He had a lot coming to him for the way things had ended between them, but not that. “No, you didn’t.”
Her temper flared. “Yes, I did,” she insisted, struggling to keep her voice under control. “Because I don’t know you.”
Yes, you do, Natalie. In your heart, you know me, he thought. And then another thought hit him. “Let me ask you a question.”
“All right.” Not knowing what to expect, she braced herself. “Ask.”
He sat down on the edge of his desktop, crossing his arms before him. “Have the rules changed since I left Vegas?”
He looked