by S. Ann Cole
Henderson drops his face into his hands and groans. “I can’t believe this. It’s all my fault. I brought these people into her life.” When he lifts his head again, he’s the epitome of devastated. “What do I...I don’t—How do I handle this? Call the cops?”
“You could do that,” True says. “And then the group will get tipped off and slip away like they’ve always done.”
“So what do I do?’” he barks desperately. “Tell me!”
“There was an incident yesterday,” I say as I idly spin my phone on the table. “An abduction. I stopped it. Turns out, though, that the girl’s the daughter of a fed. And right now he’s out for blood.
“Lyra recognized the tattoo on the kidnappers arm. We looked into it. It’s the emblem of the same Mexicali gang that took Lyra. That’s how they eat. They kidnap and sell.”
My phone lights up with a text. I stop spinning it long enough to scan the words.
Lyra: I don’t want this to be over.
I flip the phone face-down and continue. “We’ve got a solid relationship with the LX-PD, and now we’ve got an FBI agent out to take those men down because he thinks he ‘owes me one’. So if you’re asking my suggestion, it’s to stand down and let us take care of it.”
Because I promised her I would.
“So, what, I’m supposed to just go home and pretend I don’t know any of this?” Henderson asks in disbelief.
“Yup.”
“Time to put that acting hat on again, my man” True sings.
“I was a director, not an actor.”
“Same difference,” True mutters, taking a sip of water.
I sigh. “See, Guy, this is why I bring Trent in on meetings.”
“What, you think I can’t be all glare-y like Trent?” True asks indignantly. “All right. Watch me.” True crosses his arms, widens his stance, and proceeds to glare at Henderson.
“What’s happening?” Henderson asks. “Why are you doing that? I don’t like that. Please stop.”
Guy chuckles.
Henderson brings his attention back to me. “What do I tell Lyra?”
“Nothing yet,” I reply. “We need to make sure they don’t suspect anything.”
“Won’t it be better if she continues to stay with you until this is handled?”
“We need to make sure they don’t suspect anything,” I repeat.
“Right, right.” His eyes skitter nervously to True then back to me. “Please tell him to stop glaring at me.”
“In the meantime, you’re gonna need to find believable reasons to eat out or cook for yourself,” I tell him.
“Why?”
“Because your fiancée plans to start poisoning you with ethylene glycol.”
“What?” His face pales. “H-how do you know that?”
“True lied. Everything we told you is factual, not speculation,” I say. “Even before we had proof, I had suspicions. So I had your pool house bugged. The entire crew—Eloise by video-call—met there a couple times. That’s how we know.” Glancing to Guy, I tell him, “Play the snippet from last night.”
Guy hits a key on his laptop, and audio fills the room.
Eloise: We are coming back tomorrow. What did you get done?
Patrick: Nothing. I told you, they have her locked away tight. I have been trying to get to her but I don’t know, it feels like something is up. Did Mitch tell you why he is keeping her guarded?
Eloise: He said he did it to make her feel safe because she was being paranoid. But I think he believes her.
Susan: Wait, do you think he is looking into it?
Eloise: I doubt it.
Patrick: He didn’t tell you when he hired people to find her, so why do you think he would tell you about this?
Eloise: You are right. That one shocked the skin off my bones.
Susan: Yes, I think it’s safe to assume he’s looking into it.
Eloise: Possibly. Either way, things are getting too messy. Too many fuck ups. I think we should cash out while we can.
Patrick: I agree. Plus there is also Holly. It is only a matter of time before the threats stop working on her. And I really don’t want to have to hurt her.
Eloise: Susan, have you gotten any closer with Derick?
Susan: No, unfortunately. He’s a little more distrustful than your mark. I think my only alternative with him right now is blackmail. I’ll try for a mil.
Eloise: Okay. Do it. When we return I will initiate Plan EG.
Patrick: How long will that take?
Eloise: It will take some time, but it is the safest route.
Patrick: There has to be a faster way.
Eloise: Durak, if there is even a whiff of foul play, we do not get what is in that will. We must play it safe. I am handling this one myself this time. There has been too many botches already.
Patrick: What about Lyra?
Eloise: We keep an eye on her for now. If all else fails, we take her and go the ransom route. We have been on this mark too long to not get paid. She was always meant to be our back-up plan anyway before those wetbacks fucked us.
Guy stops the audio.
Deathly pale, Henderson looks around at us. “Fucking hell, how did I get myself into this mess?”
“In the future, come to us about anyone you plan on letting close to your family, yeah?”
“I did a background check—”
“The kind any con artist worth their salt knows how to pass with flying colors,” True says. “Eloise and Patrick are Russians passing off as Americans and have managed to go undetected for years. A regular old background check wouldn’t have unearthed that kind of information.”
“You can stop glaring now, True,” I mumble. “I get the point.”
“Oh, thank God,” he says through an exaggerated heave of breath. “That was exhausting. How do you and Trent do that all day long? Now I’ve got a damn migraine from all that glaring.”
I swear he’s the complete opposite of his twin. And an absolute pain in my ass.
Attention back to Henderson, I ask, “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Why didn’t you tell Eloise or Patrick you’d hired us to find Lyra?”
He blinks. Blows out a breath. Shakes his head. “Hell. I don’t know. Lysandra always told me she didn’t trust Eloise. And I guess, now that I think about it, I don’t think I ever really did either. Lysandra and I just kind of kept it to ourselves.”
“And why did you put them in your will?”
“Unh. Another good question.” Another heavy breath rushes out of him. “I did it to hold her off from nagging me about setting a wedding date. To be honest, I never really intended on marrying her. The only reason I proposed in the first place was because I foolishly thought it would bring Lysandra back. Ironic, huh? That I thought I was using her to make my ex jealous, only to find out she has me on the hook of a long con. And every horrible fate my daughter has survived is because of me.”
“You’re a victim as well as she is,” I tell him. “And you’re doing everything in your power to make things right, so don’t beat yourself up.”
He shakes his head, his eyes glossing over. “I don’t think I can do it. I can’t pretend with them. I—”
“You don’t have a choice,” I say firmly. “You’ll do it. For her.”
He starts to shake his head no, then switches to a nod as a single tear falls. “For Lyra.”
“Get it together, man,” True says. “We’ve got you. But you’re gonna need to play your part and play it well.”
“Okay. Okay, I will.” With another nod, he stands. “Wait, are any of your men free?”
“What do you need?”
“Lyra, I need security on her. Is there any way you can make that happen without them knowing?”
“She’ll be protected.”
She’ll always be protected. With my life.
“Okay, good. Good.” His shoulders sag with relief. “Bill me for whatever all this w
ill cost. And if you need anything for extra expenses let me know.”
As he starts to leave, my phone buzzes on the desk. I flip it over.
Lyra: I need one more day with you. Please.
Henderson’s almost out the door when I stop him with, “There’s something I need from you.”
Henderson looks over his shoulder at me. “What’s that?”
“Your blessing.”
He turns with a frown. “My blessing? For what?”
“To be with your daughter.”
“Holy shit,” True whispers. “You forgot to put this in the talking points, Guy.”
“Excuse me?” Henderson asks, his shoulders rising, squaring.
“Your daughter. I think...” I glance down at my phone again and feel a smile fighting forward, feel something akin to a pulse in my cold, dead heart. “I think I’m in love with her.”
And because I know it’s coming, and that I deserve it and more, I say out loud for True and Guy’s benefit, “Let it happen.”
Murder in his eyes, Henderson’s hands form to fists at his sides.
He should be thanking me for this. A second ago, he was depressed and broken, sagged and sunken like a sap. Now, he’s livid. Rage trumps depression any day. This ought to give him the fuel he needs to go home and ride out the wave before shit hits the fan.
I smile. You’re welcome, Henderson.
He growls.
And then, he attacks.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“I’m glad he’s dead.”
Lyra
THE POMODORO ALARM GOES OFF ON my phone. I hit the stop button and lean back against the wall, taking a break.
Seated on the floor of Dad’s office, laptop on my thighs, I gaze across the room at the man scowling at his computer behind his desk.
“Daddy.”
His lack of response doesn’t surprise me. He’s been giving me the silent treatment since we came home a week ago. He’d driven me home from Red Cage fuming. I’d attributed his fury to whatever it was that Red Cage discovered.
But when he braked outside our house, looked over at me, and asked, “Did you want to, Lyly?”, I understood. Torin had outed our affair. And although he’d told me that he would, somehow, it still caught me off guard.
“Yes,” I’d answered.
Not what he wanted to hear. He’d slammed out of the car and has been giving me the cold-shoulder ever since. So now I don’t even know what Red Cage found out or what’s to happen going forward, because he won’t talk to me.
That hasn’t stopped me from camping out on his office floor everyday working on my book, though. And since he’s yet to chase me out, I’m guessing he doesn’t hate me all that much.
“So, what, are you just never going to talk to me again?”
He glares harder at the screen.
“This is ridiculous, Daddy. I turn twenty-four in a few weeks. I’m more than old enough to have a fling with a hot guy if I feel like it. After everything, you don’t think I deserve a bit of fun?”
A crease forms between his brows, and he shifts his glare from the computer to me. “He’s a—”
A knock comes at the door before it swings open and Eloise sweeps in. “Honey, are you still not ready for lunch yet? All you have had all day is a cup of coffee. Are you sure you are feeling well?”
Actually, he’s been nibbling at granola bars all day and stuffing the wrappers in his desk drawer, but I’m guessing he doesn’t want her to know that.
“I’m fine, love. I’m just under a lot of pressure with the new deal,” Dad says, rubbing his temple. “Why don’t you go ahead and book a reservation at your favorite restaurant for dinner later?”
Eloise pouts. “Sounds nice, but we have eaten out every night this week. I was hoping we could get back to eating dinner at our table again.”
“I know, love. But Lyra’s therapist advised that we start doing little things like eating out, as a family, to help her adjust to being outdoors again.”
My therapist? I haven’t seen my therapist in almost three months.
Eloise looks down at me with slightly narrowed eyes, as if searching for verification.
With a shrug, I lie, “It’s really been helping.”
She emits a long-suffering sigh. “Okay, fine. But you must eat something before then. All of this working without fuel is not healthy. I am going to fix you a sandwich and you are going to eat it.”
“Thank you, love. I appreciate it.”
Appeased by that, she smiles lovingly and turns to leave.
Feeling peckish, I set my laptop aside and follow her out, glancing back over my shoulder just in time to see Dad drop his head in his hands.
Something’s definitely going on that he isn’t telling me about.
“What did you do to make him so angry at you?” Eloise asks when I enter the kitchen behind her. “I do not like how cranky he has been since we got back.”
Hmm. So Dad didn’t tell her about Torin and me? “I told him I’m not going back to college,” I fib, grabbing a tangerine and an apple from the fruit basket. Though it’s more of a half-truth than a lie.
“That man. He can be so touchy about you.” She tsks as she gathers ingredients for a sandwich. “You are an heiress to a billion-dollar legacy. There is nothing a college degree can get you that your money cannot. All those people in high places operate on bribes, believe me. Anyone and anything can be bought if you can afford it.”
“That’s true, but I understand why he wants me to do things his way.” I get a bowl and start peeling the tangerine. “He came from nothing, you know. Made something of himself when all the odds were against him.”
“Hmm.” She glances at me as she unwraps a head of lettuce. “Well, have you decided what you will be doing?”
“Not really. But I’ve been trying my hand at writing.”
Another tsk. “That is a hobby, dear. I meant, how will you be building on your father’s legacy?”
“Maybe I’ll turn my stories into movies.” I go to the sink to wash my apple. “Daddy was a screenwriter then director and eventually a producer. There are steps to heights, for people who do things right.” Through the window, I spot Patrick and his on-again-off-again girlfriend, Keri, having a heated conversation outside the pool house across the yard. “I didn’t know Patrick was home today.”
Eloise turns and peers out the window with me. “I do not like that Keri girl. She is no good for him. She is going to break his heart.”
“Love hurts,” I mumble before I take a bite into my apple, then pick up my bowl of pegged tangerines and start out of the kitchen. “Be back in a bit. I’m going to Patrick’s.”
By the time I’ve crossed the yard to the pool house, Keri is already storming off, grumbling something about him being on his own.
Patrick runs his hand through his thick, brown hair and eyes me as I approach.
“On the rocks again?” I ask around a bite of fruit.
He throws his hands up and stomps into the pool house. “She’s impossible to please.”
I follow him in. “Got off early today?”
“Uh, yeah. They owed me for a double shift.” He drops down onto the ocean-colored couch in front of the TV and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “What have you been up to?”
“So, I’ve tried my hand at something.” I plop down next to him and tuck my feet under me. “I’m finishing up a book and was wondering if you could read it and tell me what you think.”
“You wrote it?” he asks in disbelief. “By yourself?”
“Yes,” I say through a laugh. His expression is hilarious. “It’s something I was doing to pass the time but ended up loving it. It made me feel...I don’t know...zen, I guess.”
“Damn, little sis. You are damn right I’m going to read the hell out of it.” He hooks an arm around my neck and pulls my face down to his armpit.
“Arrgh! You jerk!” I shriek, shoving him away. He always catches me off-guard with that.
He throws his head back and laughs hysterically.
I pelt a tangerine peg at him. “Asshole.”
“Come here, you little whiner.” He pulls me to him and I rest my head on his shoulder before taking another bite of apple. “How have you been holding up?”
“Better. Writing has really been helping,” I say. “It’s a good place to channel all my emotions when I feel overwhelmed.”
“Good. Keep at it then.” He steals one of my pegs. “I noticed Holly has not been over in a while. Is everything all right with you two?”
“I’ve no idea. She’s been acting a little weird since the accident. And I just don’t feel like chasing her anymore.”
“Well, they say not everyone in your life is meant to be there forever. Maybe your friendship has run its course.” He leans forward and snatches up the remote from the coffee table. “Are you up for some The Boys?”
“Silly Patrick.” I pfft. “When am I ever not up for villainous superheroes?”
Chuckling, he powers on the TV, and we settle in.
The Boys never disappoints.
~
PATRICK SHAKES ME awake.
Blinking into consciousness, my bleary eyes settle on Dad standing in the small living area of the pool house. He tells me it’s time to get ready.
A grumble forms on my tongue but I bite it down. No, I don’t like that we’ve been eating out all week. But this sudden change in Dad not wanting to dine at home must be for a reason. And since he’s now roped me into his “therapist’s advice” lie, I’ve no choice but to go along with it.
“Are you coming?” I ask Patrick, rubbing my eyes.
He’s all cleaned up and dressed to go, flipping his keys. I’d dozed off at some point during The Boys and he’s apparently been busy primping.
“No, I’m heading over to Keri’s,” he replies. “To apologize for being a durak earlier.”
“For being a what?”
He frowns. “A jackass, I mean.” He laughs and shakes his head. “A foreign colleague at work uses that term all the time. It is stuck in my head now.”
“Oh. Well, yeah, you are a jackass.”