I grimaced at him since it was probably true. Andy just grinned at him guilelessly.
"Am I going to need a drink for this?" he asked irritably as his brows furrowed.
"I know I do," I mumbled uneasily.
Gareth sighed deeply and pressed his lips together. "Come on, the wet bar is upstairs." He turned and walked away without even waiting for us. The dog, Reggie, following close on his heels and looking adoringly up at him the whole time. Never in a million years, would I have thought Gareth had a dog.
We hurried to catch up and followed up a set of steps with glass railings that led up past a massive set of bookshelves filled with an eclectic collection of books that were mostly nonfiction. When the steps turned I could see down into the first level. When we finally stepped onto the next level, I was amazed. Two massive three-story high arched windows held a stunning view of the city. I stood at the glass railing and gawked like an imbecile.
"Nice fucking view, dude," Andy blurted out as he came up next to me.
"Thanks," Gareth called out behind us. "It was the biggest selling point for me."
Something cold and wet suddenly touched my hand, and I jumped with squeak as I pulled my hand away. I looked down to see Reggie staring up at me. His mouth was wide open in what looked like a big doggie grin. It was either that, or he was going to eat me. He looked at me expectantly and whined. I wasn't sure what to do and he kind of scared me, so I froze.
"Reggie, get in your bed," Gareth said commandingly from behind me. Reggie looked disappointed and slunk across the room to a large dog bed that sat in one corner. He flopped himself down with deep disgruntled sounding groan. It made me smile at him. He thumped his tail and seemed to smile back at me. Okay, maybe he wasn't that scary.
The sound of clinking glasses caught my attention, and I turned to face the rest of the room. Andy was now at the bar watching Gareth behind it as he pulled out some glasses. The bar top sported the same gray granite and white cabinets as the kitchen downstairs. To the left, was another sitting area with a large flat-screen television. It was decorated similarly to the seating downstairs, but a lot more casual. Near one wall there was a small floor mat with a heavy punching bag over it that hung from one of the exposed dark wooden beams that crisscrossed the vaulted ceiling. If he was into martial arts that explained his natural grace.
Above us was yet a third level that overlooked the room, this one was obviously a bedroom with a king-sized wooden canopy bed that matched the ceiling beams. It was covered in ivory and gray bedding. Huh, how the hell did you get any privacy up there? Of course, knowing Gareth he didn't care about that. He seemed pretty comfortable and confident in his own skin.
"Holy shit," Andy blurted out. I looked to see Gareth setting a bottle of amber liqueur on the bar in front of my brother. "Is that Michter's Twenty Year Bourbon?"
Gareth smiled slyly. "It is."
"Fuck, dude," he shook his head in disbelief. "That's like twelve hundred dollars a bottle."
Gareth shrugged. "I like good bourbon," he replied matter-of-factly, as if that explained everything. How much money did this guy have? Gareth poured some into a glass and pushed it toward my brother. "Try it, man. You'll see."
Andy lifted the glass to his nose and smelled it. Then he took a small sip and rolled the liquid around in his mouth before swallowing it. He pulled the glass away and stared at it in awe. "Worth every goddamn penny."
"Right?" Gareth replied as he poured two more glasses then stepped out from behind the bar. "Let's have a seat so you can tell me why you're here." He eyed me meaningfully, and I couldn't help the sheepish and uncomfortable grimace I gave him. He frowned as he passed me a glass of the amber liquor. I wasn't a fan of whiskey, but I took it to try to appease him a little.
I trailed behind the men over to the nearby sectional sofa, this one a darker beige clothe. Andy sat down and noticed the punching bag. "Are you into boxing or mixed martial arts?" he asked excitedly. At one time in high school, he wanted to be an MMA fighter. He'd trained for a few years before realizing he lacked the dedication and competitive aggression required to really do anything with it.
"Muay Thai," Gareth answered with a pleased smile as he sat and leaned back into the couch, sprawling out comfortably.
"Seriously?" my brother asked excitedly as he leaned forward.
"Yeah," Gareth's grinned at my brother.
"Holy shit, dude," Andy continued enthusiastically. "That's badass."
The two of them started discussing what I finally gathered was a martial art developed in Thailand that my brother thought was the shit. I sat in silence while they talked about Muay Thai and MMA stuff for a few minutes. I hadn't a clue what either of them were talking about now, but I was happy to put off our confession as long as possible.
Then much to my regret, Gareth finally got around to why we were here. He leveled a stern look at my brother. "While I appreciate your enthusiasm for Muay Thai, I think you've distracted me long enough, Andy." He looked at me appraisingly as one brow rose. "What did you need to tell me that was so important?"
Now I was put on the spot. I took a drink of the bourbon to give myself something to do instead of fidget under his intense scrutiny. It was fucking strong, probably more so since I took a gulp instead of the sip I should have taken. I started coughing as the liquor burned down my throat. Now I knew why I mostly drank beer.
"You sip bourbon, not chug it," Andy told me softly in amusement, smirking as he patted my back. All I could do was glare at him as I struggled to breath. When I got myself back together again, Gareth was still waiting expectantly for me to talk. Luckily, Andy took mercy on me when he noticed how freaked out I was, and took it upon himself to tell Gareth what we discovered today.
"Jenny and I took some initiative and decided to go visit the women who are accusing Ford of these bullshit rapes," Andy said calmly.
"You did what?" Gareth growled out as he abruptly sat up and turned a hard glare on my brother.
Andy continued, seemingly unperturbed by Gareth's ire. "Yeah, and we found out several interesting things that your investigator couldn't manage to ferret out." Andy was starting to sound confrontational as he returned Gareth's stare, and I feared it was the wrong tact with a man like Gareth.
"Like what?" Gareth snarled out through clenched teeth. His entire body was tense, the anger turning his dark-brown eyes to pitch black. I could see his hand slowly tightening around his glass of bourbon. Yikes. I sank down into the sofa as I watched their exchange, wondering if I'd be getting a first-hand look at some of that Muay Thai stuff. I feared for my brother if that happened.
Oblivious or unconcerned with Gareth's potential physical threat, Andy fearlessly launched into a detailed account of our visits to Tara and Sarina. I was so happy he was doing this, and not me. Gareth listened closely, his jaw clenching and unclenching as anger continued to boil in his eyes.
When Andy mentioned the possibility of a predatory loan being the leverage held over Tara's head, that got Gareth's attention. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and his grip on his glass eased somewhat. I was no longer afraid he'd assault my brother. When Andy mentioned the fact that Detective Warren had visited Sarina, he stilled as his lip curled up into a silent snarl. At least this time, the anger was directed at Warren and not Andy or me.
Andy finished, and Gareth sat in tense silence for a long pregnant moment as black fire began to burn in his eyes. Andy shared a worried glance with me, wondering what the hell was going on in Gareth's head.
Finally, Gareth growled loudly and threw back his bourbon, draining it in one long swallow. He flew to his feet abruptly, and stormed across the room to the bar. He slammed the empty glass down then snatched up the bottle of bourbon, proceeding to fill the glass half way to the rim. He took another long swallow. Reggie started whining, and I glanced over to see him watching his master worriedly from his bed.
Gareth grimaced as he set the glass on the bar and rubbed a hand down his face before finally s
peaking in a low angry tone. "I don't know whether to kick both your asses for doing something so unbelievably fucking stupid, or to thank you for getting somewhere when I couldn't." He growled once more, then drained the rest of the glass. He plunked the glass on the bar and stalked back to our side of the room. He sat down on the sofa again and stared longingly at the nearby punching bag for a few seconds, before finally looking at Andy and me.
He leaned forward, pressed his palms together, and laced his fingers together. "While I appreciate the reasons and your good intentions for what you did," he said in a firm even tone, "under no circumstances are either of you to go anywhere near those two women again. If either of them decides to file a harassment suit against you, there's not much I can do to help you." He let out a harsh breath through his nose. "That being said, the information you gleaned from your poorly conceived plan is useful and appreciated. As for Detective Warren, if he is indeed the dirty cop involved in this, both of you took a huge risk with your safety and Ford's case." His eyes narrowed. "I'm trying to help him here, and you could very well have ended up making my job that much harder or even impossible."
That was the last thing I wanted. "I...I just wanted to help him, Gareth." I lowered my eyes, feeling chagrined.
Andy put an arm around my shoulders comfortingly. "Jenny and I aren't the kind just to sit and do nothing when someone we care about is in trouble," he said in a defensive and unapologetic tone. "Ford is family to both of us, and we never turn our backs on our family."
"I'm not asking you to do that," Gareth's face softened, "and I understand how important family is. I'm not even going to say you shouldn't have done it, but next time you want to get involved, please discuss it with me first." He reached out and grabbed my hand. He held my gaze intently. "We all want the same thing here, and we need to be on the same page. Okay?"
I nodded immediately. "Okay."
Gareth turned his gaze to Andy and raised his brows questioningly. Andy's body relaxed. "Okay."
"Alright," Gareth said as he stood. "If you two will excuse me. I have some calls to make." It was one of the politest dismissals I'd heard from Gareth since I met him. It was refreshing.
"Who are you calling?" I asked as Andy and I stood to leave, needing to know what he planned to do next.
"For one thing, I'm going to look into Tara Clayton's mortgage situation. I want to see if she's been the victim of a predatory lender, and if so, then maybe I can find a connection to Bennett in some way." His eyes hardened along with his tone. "Then I'm going to ask my investigator how you two managed to do in a few hours what he hasn't been able to do in days. It might be time for me to get more hands on, if he can't handle it."
I didn't pity that guy. Being on the wrong side of Gareth Caxton was downright terrifying.
"I'm also going to contact a guy I know in Internal Affairs that I've had looking into Warren, and tell him to dig deeper. That fucker is pissing me off, and I want to nail his ass to the wall." Gareth's eyes turned that scary black again, and I didn't feel sorry for Warren at all. He deserved every shitty thing that was coming his way now that Gareth had his sights on the asshole. Gareth pulled out his phone and began scrolling around on his screen. "I"ll let you see yourselves out," he said without looking up.
"We'll let you get to work," I replied, and he nodded absently.
I grabbed Andy's arm and dragged him toward the stairs, so we could leave. Gareth had a lot to do, and I'd left Ford alone long enough. If all else, at least Andy and I managed to give Gareth something more to work with. I finally felt like I had accomplished something, and assuaged some of the hopelessness that was eating away at me the more I helplessly watched Ford suffer. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Chapter 10
Ford
I glared down at my phone for the umpteenth time since yesterday as my father called me yet again. I didn't have a damn thing to say to him. I ignored his first two calls yesterday morning during the walk I took after the interview with the detectives. I'd put it on vibrate after that because I knew it would piss Jenny off if she knew he was calling me. She'd been very clear how she felt about him, and I didn't want to ruin our safe little bubble away from the outside world at my mother's lake house. It was the only thing keeping me from completely losing it.
I flung my phone on the couch, and went to the large airy kitchen to find something to eat. I'd skipped breakfast, then picked at my lunch to humor Jen, even though I had no appetite. I'd barely eaten anything today, and now I was starting to feel sick and shaky. I went to the fridge and pulled out the makings of a sandwich that didn't even sound appetizing at all, but I knew I had to eat something, or I'd only feel worse. Thank God, Mom kept the place fully stocked.
I'd been wallowing in self-pity on the couch with the TV on since Jen left to go to work a little while ago. I knew she had responsibilities at the dealership, but I just couldn't hide the hurt and disappointment when she left. I didn't want to be alone. She helped keep the hopelessness at bay, and now it was all I could do to keep from bursting into tears again. Some man I was. I tried to ignore the fact that my vision had become blurry as I finished making my sandwich. On a whim, I went back to the fridge and grabbed a beer. Maybe it would take the edge off my fraying emotions.
I took my food over to the couch and slumped onto it. I slowly forced down the sandwich while periodically taking long pulls of my beer. It took a while, but I finished the food. Between that and the alcohol, I was actually feeling sleepy. I leaned back and let myself drift off, hoping like hell that I wasn't cursed with another goddamn nightmare.
I jerked awake after I don't know how long to the sound of the doorbell ringing. I sat bolt upright. Maybe it was Gareth. Maybe the case had been thrown out, and this waking nightmare was over. I could get my life back. I practically ran across the room and flung the door open without even looking to see who was here. It was a mistake, because I found my father standing there. My disappointment that it wasn't Gareth was swiftly followed by anger.
"What do you want?" I snarled out irritably. My stomach clenched as I readied myself to feel even worse than I already did today. "Are you here to ask whether or not I raped that other woman too?"
"Other woman?" he asked as his head jerked back in surprise. His brow furrowed in what looked like honest concern. It completely threw me off.
"Like you give a shit if someone else accused me of rape," I replied harshly. "You already think I'm guilty anyway. What's one more sick fucked-up thing that I've done to disappoint you?"
Guilt bled across my father's face as he frowned. "Son," he said, his voice filled with regret and worry as he reached out to me. I stared at his outstretched hand in disgust.
"Go home," I told him, my voice breaking against my will as I tried to ignore the tiny inkling of hope that crept up inside me. I didn't want it. It would only lead to more pain. I started to close the door in his face.
"I'm sorry, Ford," he blurted out in a sincere poignant tone. I froze and clenched my hand around the edge of the half-closed door. I closed my eyes. I'd been waiting for those words for three fucking years. I'd put up with his snide comments and judgmental looks for so long in the hope that I'd hear them one day. Now, they just made me angry.
"You're sorry?" I asked harshly as I stared balefully at him. "Ha! That's fucking rich. Let me guess, Natalie strong-armed you into coming here and saying that, didn't she?" My nails dug into the door. "Well, forgive me if a forced apology just doesn't fucking cut it." I tried to push the door the rest of the way closed, but Dad shot out a hand to stop me.
"Natie doesn't know I'm here," he said softly with a frown. "I went to your place, and you weren't home, so I went to see your mother to find out where you were." His eyes were filled with honest remorse. "You aren't the only person I owed an apology, son."
I stared at him in disbelief with my mouth hanging open. I didn't know what to think, or even what to believe.
"If you can't forgive me, I don't blame you." H
e looked down bleakly at the ground. To my complete and utter shock, I watched tears form in my father's eyes. "I don't deserve it anyway."
I clenched my teeth together as my eyes burned with unshed tears. Holy hell, I wanted to believe him. I still wanted my father back. I missed the relationship we used to have, where he always had my back, but now I was afraid. Could I trust him again? Would he hurt me all over again if I let him back into my life? Feeling overwhelmed, I turned and stalked back to the living room, leaving him standing in the open doorway. Maybe he'd leave and take the decision away from me.
That was too much to hope for as I heard the door close behind me and the soft footsteps as my father followed me further into the house. I crossed to the massive windows and stared out unseeing across the lake. I could feel him watching me expectantly, but I didn't know what to say.
I'd pathetically hoped for so long to have a real relationship with my father again. I'd kept my mouth shut, and my anger and hurt to myself, in the fear of making things worse. However, that anger and hurt dredged up a deep well of resentment that had slowly built up to a point where I couldn't take it anymore. I could either keep torturing myself and stuffing down the pain, or I could move on. I chose the harder path. I faced the pain head on and let go of my father. I grieved over the loss of the relationship we should have had all along. Now he was back offering the apology I wanted, but was it enough? Was it too late?
"I've been a fool and a terrible father, and I'm so very sorry for how I treated you," he continued, his voice sounding lost and forlorn. "I was blind and stubborn, assuming things I shouldn't have and too close-minded to find out the truth. It's not the kind of man I thought I was or wanted to be." Shame colored his tone. "I'm not proud of what I did, but I am proud of you," he whispered.
The words that should have been a balm were now a hot blade that pierced my heart. I closed my eyes as pain ached inside me. Where were those words for the last three years? Where were they when I needed them? Where was the support and understanding I should have had all this time? The ache turned to rage in an instant.
An Act of Redemption: Order & Chaos Book 3 Page 22