The Object of His Protection. Brenda Jackson

with his fingers. “I was standing over there trying to recall just when Dennis started working for Dad and if in the past I’ve ever had a reason to question his loyalty. But then it’s not like Dad and I were close over the last few years for me to get to know any of his associates or employees.” A smile touched his lips when he added, “Other than Gloria. She used to be quite a sticky thorn in my side.”

      Drey raised a brow. “How so?”

      “As his executive assistant, she thought my old man walked on water, refused to see his faults like I did. And she resented me for walking away from my father and my family.”

      “Why did you?”

      If Malcolm thought the question odd coming from a person who had no connection to the family, who was merely someone that he and his siblings had hired to investigate their father’s death, he gave no indication of it. Instead he said, “Despite my privileged upbringing, I’ve always been drawn to those in need and always wanted to help those less fortunate. A few years ago a bill came across my father’s desk that would have helped a lot of needy families—a bill that my dad himself had once championed. I couldn’t take any more of him not practicing what he preached.”

      “So you walked away from the family.”

      “Yes. Although I kept in touch with my mother and siblings, I couldn’t find it in my heart to forgive Dad for what he did by turning his back on so many who needed him to make a difference. I loved him, but I just couldn’t accept the political behavior my father was practicing. In my eyes he was becoming involved in the dirty side of politics and I couldn’t turn my head and pretend he wasn’t.”

      “What about Tyson and Shondra? Did they break their relationship with your father as well?” Drey asked, thinking that the Harmon Braddock whom Malcolm had just described was not the one he had known.

      “Not as clean as I did. And unable to deal with the tension between me and Dad, they threw themselves into their careers.”

      Drey nodded. “So you and the congressman were not on good terms when he died?”

      Malcolm held his gaze. “No, and if your next question is going to ask me if I had anything to do with the accident—”

      “No, I wasn’t going to ask you that, Malcolm. That hadn’t crossed my mind. I was at the funeral, remember? I saw how badly you took the congressman’s death. The two of you may have had your differences, but you loved your father.”

      Malcolm didn’t say anything for a moment, and then, “Yes, I did.”

      Before Drey could say anything else, his cell phone rang and he stood to retrieve it from his pocket and flipped it open. “Excuse me,” he said to Malcolm before glancing down at his phone. He was surprised to see his caller was Charlene. He hadn’t expected to hear from her until later that day. “This is Drey. What do you have for me?”

      “Trouble. Can we meet somewhere and talk?”