“Well, have a glass of this fine whiskey your brother brought me. I think it’s about ten grand?” He eyes Isaac.
“Fifteen,” Isaac says, his chin firm.
“I’ll take a glass,” I reply and that’s the thing about the holidays. I feel my mother’s loss. I feel the loss of who I once was. I didn’t read my mother’s letter for a reason this morning. I didn’t want to contain myself. And I don’t obviously as I add, “I always like the taste of wasted money, just to make sure I don’t forget how smooth stupidity can go down.”
“Fucker,” Isaac snaps, and motions to the small table by the couches with a chess game set up. “Play. It’s better than our conversation.”
“Sure you want to do that?” our father asks. “He’s a genius.”
“I’m a national champion,” Isaac bites out. “And no idiot.”
Apparently, he is.
Most definitely he is.
My lips quirk and I sit down at the table. My father hands me the expensive whiskey, amusement in his eyes. I down it and set the glass aside. Isaac joins me and sets his smoke in an ashtray, his glass by his side. “You start us off,” he says.
No harm in starting things out. I do it. I make my move. He makes his and so it continues, and with every move, I back him into a corner. With every move, I end the game in my favor. When it’s done, he stands up and so do I, and he’s postured to beat my ass. I arch a brow. He glowers and then turns away, storming from the room.
My father steps in front of me. “You taught him something important today. What lesson, Eric?”
“Not to underestimate your opponent.”
“No. That’s not the lesson.”
He turns and walks away.
***
Present day…
It kills me to leave Harper in my apartment when I want to be there with her, when I want to be naked, rolling around in all her nakedness, showing her how good submission can be. Showing her how safe it can be with me. But I leave her for one reason: the Kingstons killed my mother in ways cancer never succeeded and now they tried to kill Harper, and for that, they have to pay.
The minute she shuts the apartment door, I step up my pace. In about thirty seconds, I round a corner and the elevator opens. Savage is standing inside. “Need a partner in crime?” he queries.
Obviously Smith communicated with his team about my departure but that works for me right about now. “Actually, yes.” I join him. “Where’s Adam?”
“Oh fuck,” he growls. “You SEALs. You think no one is as good as you are.” The doors shut. “He’s still in Denver. He doesn’t trust anyone else to handle what you need handled there. You want me to call another one of our fin-wearing, belly-flopping guys to be back up right now, or do you think you can live with me?”
I arch a brow.
He arches a brow.
“I simply wanted to know if Adam still had eyes on Isaac.”
“Oh that,” he says dryly. “Yes. He does and he has his lifejacket by his side with his little arm tubes, too, just in case he has to dive in and save someone.”
I surprise myself and laugh. “You’re a piece of work, Savage.”
“And I don’t even need fins to swim.” He drops that joke and turns serious. “What are we doing?”
“I’ve decided it’s time for me and my father to have a heart-to-heart.”
“And he’ll expect you and you want me to make sure you don’t get stabbed in the back.”
“He won’t expect me,” I say.
He snorts. “No? He sent a guy to try to kill you. I’d be choking out my father if it were me.”
I don’t comment. He doesn’t know my history with my father. Lord only knows, I wish the fuck it wasn’t what it is. I wish like hell I hadn’t been that man’s little bitch, but I have been. I’d solve a million puzzles, read a million work situations and statistics to his favor, but I couldn’t read myself with him. Whatever the case, I see me with him now. He wants to buy time. He wants to rattle me, even break me down while he sets me up. He’ll have to look me in the eye and try to do it.
Savage and I exit to the lobby and his cellphone rings. He grabs it and answers. “Savage here. What the fuck do you want?” He eyes me and then listens again before he hangs up. “Adam says that Isaac has yet to come out of his house. It’s reading off to him. He’s going to get a closer look. More soon.”
We exit the building, and I’ve already dismissed Isaac, hiding in his house, like the pussy that he is. That’s not reading off to me at all. He’s a scared little bitch. He’s waiting on daddy to call him with the “all clear” because I’m dealt with. I’m about to be dealt with, all right. I don’t voice this to Savage. I’ll let Adam confirm Isaac’s tucked in bed. I keep tracking forward but a block from the hotel, I stop at a coffee shop. “I’ll be right back.” I don’t wait on Savage to reply.
I walk inside, order two hazelnut lattes, the way my father likes them, two for appearance, one for him, one for me to hold onto, and then wait for my order. When it’s done, I exit the coffee shop and hand one of them to Savage. “You can drink what you want of that one, but I need the cup at the hotel.”
“You’re taking your father coffee?”
“Of course. I want this to be a cordial meeting.” I think of the lesson my father was speaking of when we ended that chess game right before I started law school: Never fight a war as the underdog. I’ve let myself act like the underdog with him. I never was.
Which is why I focus on the lesson my mother taught me: no regrets.
I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Harper. “Eric!” she exclaims, answering on the first ring. “What’s happening?”
I almost smile with her excitement and I would if I wasn’t headed to see my father. When the fuck was anyone ever this damn glad to hear my voice. “Nothing yet. I just wanted to say something to you. I know this is early in our relationship, but I fucking love you, woman. Time isn’t going to change that. I should have told you in person. I’ll tell you when I see you again.”
“You love me?”
“Yes. I love you.”
“I love you, too, but oh God, why are you saying this now? What are you going to do?”
“Come back, and say that again in person. Naked. Don’t put clothes on. Take them off if you have them on. I won’t be long.” I hang up.
Savage looks at me. “Oh shit. You’re going to choke him out.”
He smiles.
I don’t.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Harper
Eric loves me? Did he really just say that to me?
Yes. Yes, he did, but I can’t let myself get too carried away with this. We feel like we’re in love, but we’ve had six years of being in love with the idea of each other. We’re under extraordinary circumstances. I almost died yesterday. He saved my life. There are so many ways we are bonded. The miscarriage, I think. Our baby we lost.
We’re bonded.
He wanted me to know that now though. God. “What are you about to do, Eric?”
Panic rises inside me and I rush toward the door of his apartment. I open it and as expected, Smith steps in front of me. “Smith,” I greet. “Eric went to his father’s hotel. He just called and—I think he’s going to do something he can’t undo. Is someone with him?”
“Savage is with him.”
“And Savage will stop him from doing something crazy?”
“Savage is the kind of guy who’ll take over.”
“Take over? Eric won’t let him take over.”
“He’ll take over,” he repeats.
“No. He won’t. Eric won’t let that happen.”
His lips thin. “Savage and Eric get along. He’ll take care of him. Eric will be back without an irreparable blemish.”
“Irreparable blemish? Are you trying to make me feel better?”
“I don’t make promises I can’t keep. It’s a thing here at Walker. We te
ll things as they are. We’re honest. I can’t tell you that they won’t end up banged up, but I can assure you they’ll end up safe, in one piece, and without any damage that they can’t come back from.”
“You’re killing me.”
“No,” he says. “I’m protecting you, like Savage is protecting Eric.”
“You remember he’s a genius, right?”
“Quite clearly.”
“He can outsmart Savage,” I counter.
“But why would he want to? Savage isn’t a man who needs things sugarcoated.”
“You’re not making this better.”
“They’ll be back soon.”
I sigh and turn away from him, shutting the door again. My cellphone rings where I stupidly left it on the coffee table. I run across the room and grab it to find my mother calling. I hit decline. I can’t take it. I’ll confront her over my attack and I have no plan after that. I don’t know if we want to tell her about all of this or not. I need to talk to Eric first. I stand up and start to pace. I grab my phone and try to call Eric, but he doesn’t answer. I repeat three times.
Another ten minutes pass, and my phone rings again, and this time it’s Gigi. I don’t like the timing, so close to when my mother called. And I don’t want to take the call at all. I feel like this woman set me up to be murdered, but I also fear there might be something she says, that if ignored, could become even more dangerous.
I hit the answer button. “Hi, Gigi.”
“What is going on?”
“You tell me. Because it sure seems like you know more than I do about everything.”
“I know nothing.”
“Why is Eric’s father here in New York City?” I demand.
“He’s—what?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know.”
“I didn’t know. Honey, I didn’t know.”
“He knew you had me ask Eric to come to Denver. I know he knew.”
“He didn’t know. Of course, he didn’t know. He’s furious about Eric showing up.”
And yet, Adam says she called him. “Someone tried to kill me last night. Eric saved me.”
“What? No. Who? Why? Oh God. Oh God.” She sounds panicked. “Oh God.”
“Gigi?” I stand up, afraid she’s having another heart attack.
“He did know. I’m sorry I lied. I told him after I sent you to get Eric because—it doesn’t matter. He knew Eric was coming but—Oh God.”
“Gigi, talk to me. Are you okay?”
“I didn’t want to see either of you hurt. I don’t want that.”
She’s breathing heavily. Really heavily. “Gigi, I want you to call an ambulance or I will for you.”
“No. No. I’m fine. I need to call my son right now. Don’t call a damn ambulance. I’m not the one who’s about to need medical help.” On that feisty note, she hangs up.
I breathe out. What just happened? Who is on whose side?
I could make all kinds of assumptions, but right now, I need to do something more productive. I need to help. I consider calling Eric again, but talk of Gigi will just piss him off more, and he might really kill someone.
I walk to the door again and of course, Smith greets me again. “Going somewhere?”
“Blake, your boss.”
“What about him?”
“He’s trying to solve the puzzle from the message we were given. I’d like to help. Can you call him?”
“That I can do.” He grabs his phone and dials. A few seconds later, he relays my request and offer, and then hands me the phone.
“Hiya, Harper,” Blake says. “You got something for me?”
“No, but I know that world. Maybe I can help and right now, Eric went to see his father, and I’m feeling helpless. I need to help. I need to do something worthwhile. There might be something you pull up that means nothing to you, but something to me.”
“Good point. I’ll come to you. I’m actually nearby. Give me ten minutes.”
“That works.” I hesitate. “Blake—”
“He won’t do anything stupid.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve looked into his eyes. Because I know that he’s stronger than his need for revenge and because he’s a genius. I’ll be there soon.” He disconnects.
I think of Eric’s claim that death is too good for his father. He’s right. It is. What am I freaking out about? Eric isn’t going to let him off that easy. He didn’t call me and tell me he loves me because he’s about to kill his father. I have a moment of relief and I shut Smith outside, shutting myself inside Eric’s apartment. He’ll meet with his father. He’ll buy us time to end this in a reasonable way. Then we will confess our love while naked and in his bed. The end. That’s the ending I choose.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Eric
Savage sips from the coffee I just handed him. “Your father likes hazelnut latte,” he observes. “I would have taken him for more of a black coffee, no cream or sugar kind of guy.”
“My father’s the kind of man that sweetens his drink and pisses in yours.”
“Ah. Gotcha.” He downs another swallow. “I’m sweetened up and caffeinated. Ready to fight. What’s the plan? Kill him? Punish him? Tickle his feet until he pees himself? Or just piss in his coffee? I can do that right now, if you like?”
“I’d get the honors on all of the above,” I say, offering nothing more. My plans are my plans. I don’t need anyone else inside them, crawling around and fucking them up. I start walking toward my father’s hotel. Savage falls into step with me. “Decision yet to be made, aye?” he asks. “I get it. He’s your father, but he sent a hitman to kill you.”
He knows as well as I do that that man wasn’t sent to kill me. He’s looking for answers that I’m not going to give him. “My father has a funny way of showing love.”
“Love by way of a hitman. Your family is more fucked up than mine.”
He hits about ten nerves with his “love by way of a hitman” comment that shoots me right back into the past. Into the day my mother became her own hitman and shot herself. For me. She did it for me. Because she loved me and I’ve had a lifetime of fucked-up mixed emotions about her actions that all blast me right into this moment. Into the one where I walk into my father’s hotel and head toward the elevator to pay him a “loving” visit.
My cellphone buzzes with a text message and I grab my phone and glance down at a message from Harper. I talked to Gigi. Please call me.
I stop walking and eye Savage. “Give me a minute.” I step to a vacant seating area to our right and dial Harper.
“What about Gigi?” I say when she answers.
“She called. I didn’t want to take the call, but I felt like it might buy more time.”
“And?”
“She had a panic attack when I told her I was attacked. Eric, she wasn’t acting and she didn’t know your father was here. She hung up with me to call him and she was pissed. I’m not misreading this.”
“She set us up.”
“I’m going to use your own words on you right now. What if she didn’t? I know you hate her, but being a bitch and arranging a murder are two wildly different things. What if she was set-up, too?”
“You’re suggesting my father used her to get me to Denver, and she played an unwitting role in all of this.” It’s not a question. I’m simply letting her thoughts calculate in my mind.
“Isn’t he the only person that could use her that way? Which means he has to be the mastermind behind the attempt on my life.”
It’s logical with one flaw, the one that has my father desperate enough to bury the problem I believe Isaac created. That’s why he was at the warehouse before he got on a plane and came here, but nowhere in that equation, or any equation I’ve created, does my father use Gigi to get me to Denver. Gigi is playing Harper and that’s not something she will want to hear.
“This changes nothing,” I
say. “My plan is still my plan.”
“And that plan is what? Because I feel like you called me and told me you loved because—”
“Because I do, Harper. No other reason.”
“Gigi set me on edge. I have a bad feeling in my gut now that I didn’t a few minutes ago.”
“There is no end to today that doesn’t end with you naked in my arms when I tell you I love you again.”
“Do it now. Come here and do that with me now.”
“Not until I deal with my father and send him back to Denver with time on our watch to end this properly.”
“That bad feeling isn’t going away.”
“Relax, princess,” I order softly, willing her to actually take a command for once. “I’ll be back soon, but I need to focus. If you need me urgently, call me, but make sure it’s urgent. I’ll answer.”
“Just—hurry.””
“I will.” I disconnect and consider the new information Harper has given me, but it changes nothing. In fact, it solidifies my plan.
I rejoin Savage and motion to the elevator. Once we’re inside, I eye him, aware that I don’t have the room number or a key to get upstairs, but he does. Or he better. I pay his team too damn much to have them be anything but prepared.
“Eleven,” Savage says, handing me a keycard. I accept it, put it to use, and pocket it, facing forward.
Savage doesn’t ask any further questions. I don’t offer any answers or commentary. We arrive at our destination and I cut him a look. “Stay by the elevator.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes.” I motion to his cup. “I need that coffee.”
He takes another drink and hands it to me. The doors open and I exit the car, and start walking. The hallway is long and my mind counts out the steps without my permission. Ten. Twenty. Fifty-two and I’m at the door. My hands are full. It’s a good reason to pause. I haven’t seen my father in years. I could do without seeing him now.
I use my foot and knock on the door.
My father answers in a minute. Sixty-one seconds to be exact. “About time,” he grumbles appearing in the doorway, his gaze downward turned. “I ordered an hour—”
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