Chapter 3 Between Love and Lies
Duncan
The drive back to Huntington did nothing but fuel my rage.
I’d gone to Quantico seeking answers and left questioning everything I’d ever known.
Could I have been so blinded by my sense of loyalty that I didn’t see the writing on the wall?
Had someone in my own damn organization––potentially someone I considered a friend––set out to destroy my life?
Thinking the worst was almost as inconceivable as not considering the possibility.
Regardless of the outcome, I had to know the truth, even if digging up the past unearthed old demons.
Whoever caused the accident was still out there breathing free.
Until they were brought to justice, Sloane and the kids weren’t safe. They were my priority.
I’ve thought about her no less than once every second since I left her standing on Finn’s porch.
Sloane was alive. My Sunshine was alive.
It physically hurt me to walk away, to not drop down on my knees and beg for forgiveness.
It was yet another notch in my long list of regrets when it came to her.
The biggest one being not laying out the truth from the beginning.
No more secrets. It was past time for us to be what we were always meant to be…a family. And I was on a mission to win mine back.
My feet were dragging when I stepped into my kitchen and tossed my keys on the counter. Thirty-six hours with no sleep was hell on my body. Pulling the phone from my back pocket, I dialed the number, then second-guessed the move I was about to make. Finn answered on the first ring.
“You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that much.”
“I need your help.”
“Apparently, huge balls.”
“What if I let you hit me again?”
“I already promised Waverly and my sister I wouldn’t.”
“Then name your price, O’ Lachlan.”
“Don’t hurt her again,” he growled. “There’s always two sides to the story, but you don’t know hers. She almost died in the accident and when she woke up, the first thing she said was your name. Only it wasn’t your feckin’ name, was it?”
“That’s why we were going up the mountain the day of the accident. I was going to tell her.”
“After how many months of lying to her though?”
“Trust me, if I had to do it again, I’d do it differently.”
“Here's the kicker, Duncan. How do I know if I can trust you?”
Hearing him say those words both hurt and pissed me off, even though I understood. There were only a handful of people in the world I trusted implicitly. Finn made the short list after he took a bullet to protect Waverly.
“Not to be a dick, but it’s not your trust and forgiveness I’m looking for.”
“No, but you called me, not the other way around.”
“Touché.” I paused, taking a deep breath. “I love her, Finn. Never stopped. Never will.”
“Feck,” he spat. “Don’t make me regret helping you. Just keep in mind, I have enough money and clout to make a body disappear. Even a big-arse federal agent like you.”
“Understood.”
It was pushing two in the afternoon by the time we hung up.
We had quite a few details to hash out before a reunion between Sloane and I could take place.
My biggest concern was the twins. When Finn offered to babysit, my gut reaction was to tell him to kick rocks.
I’d missed out on too much already, but I couldn’t argue with his logic.
They didn’t know me. Decades later, I could still remember the fear of the unknown every time I was moved from one foster home to the next.
Now I was the unknown, and I knew from experience, it could be scary.
As desperate as I was to officially meet Rogan and Reagan, I wouldn’t risk traumatizing them because of my selfish needs.
We had a lifetime to look forward to. In the long run, giving them an extra day or two before introductions wouldn’t make or break our future.
With a few hours to kill, I shot off a group text to my team.
They all showed up at my house within thirty minutes of my request for a meeting, everyone except Waverly.
She and I would catch up separately. In order to get the ball rolling, I had to face them alone to let them in on the past. We gathered in the living room and––not surprisingly––it was Lanie who started the conversation.
And she didn’t bother pulling her punches.
“You’re a dad.”
It was a statement of fact, not a question. They’d all been at the party the night before, I just didn’t take into consideration how quickly word would’ve spread through the grapevine.
“I am.”
“Holy shit. And you had no idea?”
“Lanes.” Koen nudged her in the side with his elbow. “Remember what we talked about?”
“Yes, and I never agreed. Duncan wouldn’t walk on eggshells around us. I’m not doing it with him either.”
“Good,” I interjected. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. We’re a family and it’s high-time I treated you like one.”
I started at the beginning with Erik Murray, then moved on to meeting Sloane and the three months which followed.
When I got to the day of the accident, it felt like the walls were closing in on me.
Shadows formed around my vision as I described every detail with painstaking clarity, up until the part where I pulled her from the car.
My agents remained silent as I pushed through, eventually ending on my altercation with Niall yesterday and my new thoughts regarding who might be responsible for the accident.
“Motherfuckers,” Noah grumbled, the others adding their own versions of the same.
“What do you need from us?” Keaton asked.
“I want to know who did this and why. Obviously, any investigation will have to be kept on the down-low, otherwise we’ll risk tipping off the top players.”
“Got it. Officially unofficial it is.” Koen motioned to Nelson. “You’re going to have to keep Jett away from this. Jade will bury me six feet under if he gets involved.”
Jade was Koen’s wife. Jett was her computer genius teenage brother. The kid would hack with the best of them, but fell short when it came to choosing friends. He’d gotten himself into a pickle a while back, which led to Nelson taking him under his wing.
“Henley has the shovel,” Lanie added with a smirk.
Keaton chuckled. “Watch out, Nelson, or you’ll have the girl gang climbing up your ass.”
Despite the laugh, he wasn’t joking. When Henley, his wife, got together with Lanie and Jade, trouble typically followed. Add Waverly and Shayne to the mix, heads would roll. The five of them were like lionesses protecting their pride. I was counting on it when it came to Sloane and my kids.
Noah cleared his throat. “What about security?”
“I’m calling an old friend. Gabriel del Toro.”
“Who is that?” He hiked a brow.
Keaton winced. “Shit.”
“It was years ago. They aren’t the kind of men who hold a grudge.”
Lanie raised her hand. “Can one of you fill the rest of us in?”
“Quattro Security is run by four brothers. Gabriel, Enrico, Luciano, and”––Keaton swiped a hand down his face before he continued––“Allesandro del Toro. If you want the best, they’re it. They are also not my biggest fans.”
“Care to share the reason with the class?” Koen egged him on.
“Nope.”
Using my thumb, I pressed into the space between my eyebrows, relieving a bit of the tension building behind my eyes. I needed to get them back on track if I had any hopes of catching a thirty minute power nap before going to Sloane’s.
“Here’s what I need. Dig up everything on everyone who was involved in the case nine years ago, financials included.
There’s a connection somewhere, we just have to find it.
Pull copies of the accident report, as well as both mine and Sloane’s medical records.
The Irish blew it off back then, which means they’re either incompetent or they’re involved.
Either way, cover your tracks.” The team packed up and as they headed for the door, I issued one final command. “Stay safe.”
The nap never came to fruition. I was operating on fumes when I approached Sloane’s door a little after five, with a plethora of plastic take-out bags in one hand, and a bouquet of wildflowers tied together with a golden-yellow ribbon in the other.
When the door swung open, I nearly dropped them all.
It was still a shock to my system to see Sloane standing before me.
She was wearing an off-the-shoulder lavender sweater, distressed jeans, and a pair of tan wedge heels. My breath was officially stolen.
“Hey.” She smiled shyly, opening the door the rest of the way to let me inside.
“Hi, Sunshine.” I handed her the flowers, leaned in, and kissed her cheek before moving past her toward the kitchen.
Obviously, I’d been in the house before since it used to belong to Waverly, but there were bits of Sloane and the kids splashed around.
Like the colorful crayon drawings plastered across the refrigerator, held in place by mini magnetic letters, and the overflowing bin of toys stored beneath the window against the far wall.
It was nice to see she’d made it their own.
My lips tipped up when I spied a pink throw pillow lying on the floor in front of the gray sectional sofa, with its pale green counterpart hovering precariously close to the edge.
Sloane must’ve seen them too. She rushed to pick them up, tossing them haphazardly back into place.
When she joined me at the counter, my coat was off and I began unpacking the bags.
“Please excuse the mess. Rogan was practically bouncing off the walls before they left.”
Hearing his name from her lips stirred up a shitstorm of emotions. They hit me out of nowhere. The container of food toppled from my hands, splattering shrimp lo mein all over the floor.
“Shit.”
I dropped to my haunches, scooping the noodles back into the white paper box with my hands. Sloane joined me, wiping up the dark brown sauce with a damp cloth.
“I’m sorry.” She ducked her head.