Chapter 27 Hook, Line, and Sinker
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
HOOK, LINE, AND SINKER
Devon
Down deep, I know.
I don’t need proof.
Hugh’s voice lives rent free in my head. Hell, I would’ve given everything I have on this earth to hear it again.
But not like this.
It’s official. Hugh Bancroft was a double agent who faked his own death and now works for Victor Turner.
He’s alive and well and keeping tabs on me.
I barely had a chance to let it sink in. There was too much to do.
The moment I got off the phone with Ozzy, I tamped down every emotion that was simmering below the surface and relied on my instincts from my prior career.
My first priority: Dean Moretti. And since I’ve been communicating with Dean, that means Turner has been listening to me.
Of all people, it was Felicity to the rescue.
When I told her it was an emergency, she didn’t ask any questions.
She hopped into her late-model sedan and drove the speed limit to the Winslet Police Station.
I informed Moretti that he was being tapped by none other than the techie from the UK, and I did it while he borrowed Felicity’s cell.
That made Dean about as happy as I was when I heard Hugh’s voice for the first time.
Then we created a plan, which included burner phones, fake meetings, and another kidnapped hospital patient.
But we’re not ready to kill the original line.
I don’t have time to process the fact that the friend I mourned for years is alive and well.
The only thing I can focus on is turning the tables.
Victor Turner proved he’s good at what he does.
Ozzy couldn’t pinpoint Hugh’s location. Fusion Logic has that line under lock and key.
But then again, they don’t only run their one satellite system, they have multiple all around the world.
We have no idea where Hugh is coming from, and since he’s officially dead, it makes it damn near impossible to pick up his trail when he gets to the States if he isn’t here already.
When we returned to the hospital, Harlow made the decision to tell her dad everything. She said there’s no way she could keep the truth from him, even in his weakened state.
Harlow made the correct decision. Patrick runs a multi-billion-dollar corporation. He had no problem handling every ounce of truth about Albert, Janie, and how they put a target on his daughter’s back, no matter how fucked up it is.
Harlow stands by her father’s bedside. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I planned to stay longer.”
“The doctor said I may be able to go home in a few days if I have assistance. You can bet your ass I’ll vet every single person I hire,” Patrick says.
“I’ve already started that process,” Chrissie says through a frown as she focuses on her cell. “No one is going to drug you on my watch.”
“Did I mention you’re getting a raise?” Patrick asks as he picks through his breakfast of oatmeal and dry toast. “I’ll double it if you make sure my chef cooks up something that doesn’t taste like old cardboard.”
“No can do, Mr. Madison. You’re paying me to keep you alive,” Chrissie mutters as she reads. Her gaze shifts to Harlow. “I’m not trying to kick you out, but the plane is scheduled to leave soon.”
Tears fill Harlow’s eyes before she leans down and pulls her father into an emotional embrace. “I love you. Follow the doctor’s orders. I need you strong and healthy. I don’t plan on you going anywhere for a very long time.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Patrick turns his head to press his lips against Harlow’s cheek before framing her face in his hands.
He looks intently into her eyes. “We’ll get through this.
Janie will pay. And when all this is said and done, we need to have a talk about the future of Stonebridge—your future. ”
Harlow holds his hands in hers. “My future is just fine. I’m going to make a life in Winslet. Sure, I’ll travel for work and have another small place in the city, but I’m going to make Grandma’s house better than ever. I’ll force you to come for holidays.”
“Small town,” he mutters before looking over her shoulder straight at me but continues speaking to his daughter. “Is this about him?”
Harlow glances at me through a teary smile before turning back to Patrick with a small shrug. “The only thing I’m going to say is that everything I’m doing right now is for me.”
I walk to the bed and offer Patrick my hand. “Good to meet you. I promise I’ll take care of her.”
“You’d better. The last one sure didn’t.” Her dad turns his glare to his daughter. “There will be no more engagements or weddings without me around, got it? No one will ever gaslight you again.”
“I don’t need to be reminded of that. Like I could forget if I wanted to,” she mutters.
The so-called contract I demanded of Harlow because I knew there was no way I could only have her for one night, has turned into an internal fire raging within me.
She’s been through hell and needs time.
I’ve been in a holding pattern for years. Time has felt like spiked shackles since the day Hugh died.
Or the day I thought he died.
That ticking clock has felt more like a death sentence. Life has been going through the motions in a repetitive cycle, running on a loop instead of moving forward. Forward might as well have been sprinting on a damn treadmill.
Am I ready to make any declarations?
Fuck no.
But I’ll also move heaven and earth to keep this contract intact.
“That’ll never happen again, Patrick,” I promise. “You have my word. You hardly know me, but there’s nothing more solid in this world than that.”
Patrick’s heavy stare shifts between me and Harlow. “At this point, I have no choice but to believe you.”
“You won’t regret it. Victor Turner will go down once and for all, and the Humphries and Janie will pay for the hell they tried to bring down on Harlow,” I say.
“And Hugh Bancroft,” Harlow adds. She threads her fingers through mine and pulls my hand to her heart.
The woman is selfless even after all she’s been through.
When we got back to the hotel last night, the only thing she focused on was the man who double-crossed me and ruined my career in the process.
“He’ll be exposed for who he is and what he’s done to you. ”
“Harlow,” Chrissie interrupts. She’s standing in the doorway to Patrick’s room. “You’re going to be late. I’ll walk you out.”
Harlow gives her dad one last hug before we make the trip back to Winslet.
Harlow
Dad might’ve stolen Chrissie away from me for the time being, but that doesn’t mean she won’t always have my back.
The moment we get to the waiting room, Chrissie grabs me by the arm. “You have James Bond—you don’t need me to walk you out, but I do need to talk to you. And as much as your dad says he can handle the truth, I’m not sure about this one.”
Devon’s hand wraps possessively around my hip as if someone is set to break around the corner to tear me from his hold. “What the hell else could happen that he can’t handle after the last few days?”
Chrissie pulls in a deep breath, as if to prepare herself for what she’s about to say. “Don’t freak out. I’m sure it’s just someone trying to extort money from Stonebridge. You know how people are.”
“Just say it. Is this about the Humphries?” I demand.
She shakes her head. “No. It’s actually the farthest thing from the drama of wealthy families vying for power and money.
Remember the guy we discussed yesterday who’s been emailing your father for months?
Well, Allen not only made the decision to ignore and delete every email, but he also had the guy blocked in every way from Stonebridge.
I’ve become so chummy with this tech guy from corporate security, I’ve added him to my Christmas card list.”
“That’s great,” I note. “But what’s the point?”
Devon looks at his watch. “We are going to be late. Not that the pilot will take off without you.”
“Of course he won’t,” Chrissie agrees before she goes on.
“My point is that Jett Cross hasn’t only been trying to connect with your father, but you too.
Allen had him blocked from the servers, the phones, and hell, maybe snail mail, if that’s possible.
There are so many levels of gatekeeping at Stonebridge, I had no idea.
But my new BFF in security who has access to the maze of networks hooked me up.
I haven’t even had time to open them all, but there is a big ass file of emails from this guy.
” Chrissie lowers her voice and reaches out for my hand.
“I’m not sure how to tell you this. Hell, this guy could be from Looney Tune Town and Mr. Protective over here needs to add him to the list of people he’s going to take down in his quest to make you his. ”
I don’t have a chance to rein her in because Devon gets to it before me. “Who do I need to add to my list, and what the fuck did he do?”
“As much as I usually adore the way you take a Sunday drive to get to the point, I’m exhausted,” I say. “Who is Jett Cross?”
Chrissie unlocks her phone and turns the screen to me. It’s a social media profile of a handsome man.
Not just handsome.
He’s downright hot.
Hair so dark it’s edging on black. His beard is short and scruffy the way some women go apeshit over.
He looks like he just got back from a Mediterranean vacation and has the golden tan as a souvenir.
I have no idea what color eyes he has because his shades are too dark.
And his stance is just as broody as a frown mars his strong brow line.
He’s wearing a gray T-shirt and dog tags hang from his corded neck.
“Wow,” I mutter and grab the phone to study him closer. “Am I supposed to know who this is?”
“Yes.” The razor-sharp word is like a dagger shot from Devon’s mouth. I turn to look up at him as he swipes the cell from my hands as if to get him away from me. “Who the fuck is this guy?”
Chrissie is the exact opposite of Devon and grins. “Wow, the Duke of Winslet is jealous. I like it.”
I grab the cell back from Devon and scroll through his social profile which is one lone picture since it’s private. “Who is he?”
“This guy,” Chrissie claims her cell and holds it up to us once again, “is Jett Parker Cross, former Army. He was discharged two years ago. He’s thirty-six years old, single, and never been married.
He was raised by his grandmother who is now dead.
” Chrissie crosses herself. “God rest her soul, she sounded like an angel of a woman. His middle name is in honor of his mom, Parker Cross. He never knew her. Anyway, he lives in a small town in Iowa. Oh, and he also has a dog and a cat, but I don’t know their names.
They were strays who wandered up to Jett’s house.
First the cat, then the dog. He said he’s not a pet person, but Lord have mercy, they’re cute—like chubby-baby-cheeks cute—if that tells you anything. ”
“This...” I don’t even know where to start. “This is a lot, yet you haven’t actually told me anything. How do you know all this?”
“Because he said so,” she bites and wiggles her phone in my face.
“In his emails that I’ve been reading like it’s a New York Times bestseller, dammit.
He’s eloquent and endearing and he’s got me hook, line, and sinker.
I need to know more, that’s how good these emails are.
Each one is like a chapter in his life that unfolds like a suspenseful biography.
He did some dangerous shit when he was in the Army.
” She waves her hand at Devon. “No offense, I’m sure your past is equally thrilling.
Anyway, every email was sent straight to the Stonebridge dungeon—not that I knew we even had one of those, but that’s what happens when you’re blackballed by Allen Foster. ”
“I’m losing my damn patience,” Devon bites and pulls my back to his front. “Who is this guy and what does he want with Harlow?”
Chrissie hikes one brow. “Don’t worry, double-oh-seven. You can continue to rock Harlow’s world with no competition, otherwise it would give me the big ick, because this guy,” she holds up a picture of Jett Parker Cross again, “says he’s your brother.”
I gasp. It feels like she knocked the wind right out of me. “What?!”
“Half,” she amends. “He says he’s your half-brother.
It seems Daddy Warbucks had a secret baby back in the day that he never knew about.
At least, I hope he didn’t. If he did, I quit.
I refuse to work for any asshole who doesn’t acknowledge a child, no matter if it was from a one-night stand or not. ”
I have no words.
Devon’s hold on me feels different than it did. Not possessive, supportive.
I just stand here astonished.
“I have a brother?” I utter. “How can that be?”
Devon presses his lips to the top of my head. “You don’t know if it’s true. Who knows what his motive is.”
“He’s six years older than you,” Chrissie goes on. “For what it’s worth, he was born a year before your parents even met. He said he just learned about your dad last year.”
I take the cell back from her and stare at the man who claims to be my brother.
Half ... but brother all the same.
“So, that’s it.” Chrissie sighs as her arms fall to her sides. “That’s all I know.”
I frown. “This guy claims to be my brother, and my father could have a son he doesn’t know about. I need to know more.”
A look of anticipation settles on Chrissie’s face. “Do you want me to contact him? Because I’ll do it right now.”
“No,” Devon butts in. “Let me look into him first and make sure he’s legit.”
I bite my lip and try to control the urge to call Jett Cross this very moment but then think about all the ways I was duped by Albert Humphries.
“That’s a good idea. But I want to know without a doubt Jett is who he says he is before we tell Dad.
Keep this quiet for now. I’ll take the heat for it later. ”
Chrissie claps her hands silently. “This is so angsty. The secret-baby trope is my favorite. Whatever you have to do to run a background check, hurry the hell up. The anticipation is killing me.”
“Killing you?” I mock her. “I could have a brother. If it’s true, I want to know why Allen kept it from my dad and me.”
Devon turns me in his arms. His expression is no less grave than it has been the last few days. “We’ll get to the bottom of it, but we need to get back to Winslet. I can multitask on the plane.”
Yes, we need to get back.
Hugh Bancroft is alive.
The Winslet Chief of Police is being tapped.
Janie is nowhere to be found.
Turner put kill orders on Roman and Albert. As much as I hate them both, I don’t want anyone to die.
And I may have a sibling.
I give Chrissie a quick hug and turn to Devon. “Let’s go. I need to know everything there is to know about the man who claims to be my brother.”