Chapter 30 Sinister
CHAPTER THIRTY
SINISTER
Harlow
“It’s happening. I can’t believe it, but it’s happening. I may have a brother.”
“Girl. You know I’m your ride or die. As happy and freaked out as I am for you, somehow life has thrown a wrench at me, and I now work for Patrick-freaking-Madison.
When he discovers he might have a son, that I knew he might have a son, and that I didn’t tell him, I will be D-O-N-E done.
I’m not trying to make this all about me, but OMG, he will hate me when he finds out.
I’ll be unemployed, and the only thing on my resumé will be managing a philanthropic billionaire heiress.
Do you know how many jobs there are out there with my qualifications?
I’ll give you a hint. NONE. There’s just you.
It’s not like I can put working for your dad on my resumé.
I mean, it’s been like three minutes. This is so stressful.
I’m not sure how long I can do this. Oh, and newsflash, he hasn’t asked me to drink iced tequila with a splash of lime and rim of Tajín with him.
That’s a job perk I counted on cashing in on for like . .. THE REST OF MY LIFE.”
I pull the phone away from my ear. “Quit screaming. You’re overreacting. You’ll always be with me. When I can trust that my dad isn’t going to be drugged or killed, you’re back with me sipping Patrón, okay? And I’ll take all the heat for not telling him he may have a son.”
“I had a good run, I guess.” Chrissie is pacing. I can picture her arm flailing around as she talks. “Life was so much easier before Albert and Janie tried to rule the world. Damn them for trying to kill you and fucking up my life in the process.”
“As much as I want to tell you to relax, I know that’s sacrilege, and I’d lose my mind if someone said it to me. But please know that this will pass, and I’ll always take care of you and serve you top-shelf tequila.”
“You’d better or else I’ll put a hit on you myself.”
“Too soon, Chrissie,” I bite. “Way too soon.”
She sighs. “Let me know when I can pull that one out of my back pocket. It’s too good. At this point, I plan on using it for the rest of my life. The bar is set low, you know?”
“The lowest,” I agree.
I look out the window and watch the guests enjoying their vacations with no worries in the world. The shooting was brushed off as hunting gone wrong. The news quietly reported that the victim will make a full recovery. The world moved on, and so did the guests.
I’m jealous.
I want to enjoy every part of the Manor at Winslet, but I’m stuck in Devon’s suite. I wouldn’t mind any other day, but he’s not here, and I’m an anxious wreck about where he is, and what he’s doing.
Chrissie finally moves on. “So when will we know if you’ll have to share billions with the mystery guy? I need to know the rest of his story as much as I need someone else to take over working for your dad.”
“I’m not sure. I’ve emailed back and forth with him.
Jett answered my first email fast. I apologized that I hadn’t seen any of his correspondence until now.
I didn’t tell him why. There’s no reason to air the family problems if he isn’t my brother.
Even if he is, I’m embarrassed to admit any of this has happened. ”
“He mentioned life and death once. I want to know what’s up with that. The last thing we need is another drama queen to deal with,” she drawls.
“Are you seriously referring to me as a drama queen?” If she keeps this up, I’ll have to start pacing too. “I told you about his medical problems.”
“You did. That’s concerning. He’s responsible for that sweet puppy and cat.” She exhales and finally steps down from her soapbox. “Okay, I’m over it. I just needed to vent.”
I smile when I think about the unwavering devotion of my best friend. “Have you forgotten how well I know you? Honestly, I’m surprised you came around this fast. You’ve earned another few days, at least.”
“I’ll cash in on that if shit hits the fan again. Or, if your dad fires me for not telling him about Jett Parker Cross. I can just see that name plastered across a New York Times bestseller. No offense, but if he is your brother, he lucked out with a way better name than you.”
“I can’t argue with that,” I say. “I found the top-rated lab for genetics in the country. It’s literally a swab. A test is being delivered to him. He’s anxious to get it done too. It usually takes a couple of days, but I paid the rush fee.”
“Good. For so many reasons, I can’t wait. You’re a living and breathing docudrama.”
“Tell me about it. As soon as I get the results, I’ll talk to Dad. Maybe he’ll be home by then.”
“Speaking of home,” Chrissie goes on. “His entire staff has been replaced since Janie had a hand in hiring everyone.”
“Thank you. She might have limited funds, but she also has wealthy friends. I have half a mind to let the PR department go whole hog and start putting out press releases about their upcoming divorce. We can let the media run from there. There’s nothing Janie hates more than public scrutiny.
That might be the best way to flush her out. ”
“That’s not a bad idea. Your dad is focused on the markets and day-to-day business. Do you want me to run that by him since it will be his dirty laundry being flown for the world to smell?”
“That’s a disgusting metaphor, but yes. If he agrees, let’s make that happen right away.”
For the first time in days, she sounds more like herself. I can actually hear a smile in her tone. “This is where I thrive. Thanks for throwing me this bone to remind me I’m a killer in my field.”
“Of course, you are. You were a mastermind at ditching Albert at the altar for maximum public humiliation timed perfectly with a kidnapping. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Remember that since you’re hot and heavy with the British secret agent. He has contacts all over the world, but I doubt he’s as petty as I am.”
“You’re right,” I agree. “He values efficiency over pettiness. No one can fill that gap but you.”
“Damn straight. But I’ve got to go. Your dad wants to go over his first meeting with the board next week. I’m going to have to do my best to pretend I know nothing about his thirty-six-year-old secret baby.”
“You’re a skilled liar. I have faith. Seriously, though, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you, Chrissie.”
“Right back at you. Just remember this when I ask to work for you from across the country. I’m not cut out for small-town life. We’ll just have to drink tequila over FaceTime.”
I figured as much. “I can do that. Though you don’t know what you’re missing. I’ll make you come for the Gooseberry Festival.”
“If you think you can win me over with sour fruit, then you don’t know me at all.” A heavy door shuts in the background. “I know you’re bored, but Daddy-O is waiting. I’ll call you later.”
“Give him a hug for me.”
“I am absolutely not giving your dad a hug. I have to draw the line somewhere.”
She hangs up without saying goodbye.
I slide my phone into my back pocket and lose the only distraction I had. My mind returns to Devon, his ex-friend who is secretly alive, and the revenge that he promised would be so beautiful once all is said and done.
I want the man who makes me feel safe back in one piece. That moment can’t come soon enough.
Devon
Hook, line, and sinker.
At least it looks like that’s the case.
I wonder when Hugh lost his instincts. Since he faked his own death? Maybe working for evil instead of good has gone to his head. He thinks he’s untouchable and one step ahead of everyone.
What he didn’t think about is the fact I’m not beholden to standards, oaths, or laws any longer.
“He’s on his way up,” Dean says through the earpiece he handed me when we met this morning to go over the plan. “He’s taking the stairs. Jeans, plaid shirt, and a brown ballcap. He looks like he’s trying to fit into a Hallmark movie. Little does he know, Winslet is the farthest thing from that.”
The shades are already drawn, and the bed is a mess. I cracked the door to the bathroom and left the light on, but the room is dark and shadowed.
Like my soul.
Or it was before Harlow busted into my life like a wrecking ball.
“I’m recording this,” Dean goes on. “Whatever you do, don’t turn off your comm.”
I adjust the mic that fits in the buttonhole of my shirt. “Don’t worry. I want every moment of this recorded for prosperity, a judge, and jury.”
“Look,” Dean goes on. “For what it’s worth, I know this won’t change anything for you, but maybe it will give you some closure.”
“A police chief and a therapist,” I deadpan in a low voice.
“Fuck,” he bites. “Give me a break. I’m trying to be a glass is half-full kind of guy for a change.”
“No offense, but it doesn’t suit you,” I say. “Is he close?”
Dean pauses for a quick beat. “My guy says he’s closing in on the third floor. He’s slow. Maybe he’s gotten soft in his fake-dead years.”
“You can cut the chatter anytime and let me focus,” I whisper.
“Good luck.”
Luck.
Is that what this has come down to? Finding Hugh Bancroft through Harlow’s planned murder is not what I’d call luck in any form. The fact my path crossed with his is nothing short of fate.
I was meant to be here at this moment.
The doorhandle turns.
I press myself to the wall out of sight. When he pushes it open, he’s silent as he slides into the room. With his back to me, his gaze shifts from the unmade bed to the cracked door to the bathroom.
Maybe he hasn’t lost his touch. He moves across the room without a sound and peeks into the bathroom.
That’s when I block the doorway.
Hugh hears my footsteps and spins faster than a strike of lightning.
And for the first time in years we’re reunited.
In the flesh.
Never in my life did I dream we’d be standing face to face again.
He wasn’t only my partner. He was my friend. I trusted him with my life.
He’s supposed to be the ghost in this scenario.
But I’ll never forget the look on his face when he sees me.
I feel a sinister smile touch my lips. “Hello, mate.”