His jaw tightened.
“What invoices?” I asked.
“Consulting payments,” Sienna said. “Companies that don’t exist. Garrick told me to delete the files.”
Miriam snapped, “A wife has no business digging through her husband’s work.”
Garrick reached across the table and pressed his hand against Sienna’s injured shoulder. She gasped.
I caught his wrist. Not hard. I didn’t need to.
“Remove your hand.”
He looked amused. “Or what?”
“Or you will make the next thirty minutes far worse for yourself.”
He pulled away and laughed. “You retired prosecutors always think the world still listens to you.”
But I knew more than he realized.