Chapter 9
Kane
Across the solicitor’s desk, the grey, half-dead-looking man slanted a scared glance at me, his focus to this point having been squarely on my sister. Cochran was right to be afraid of me. At the last meeting, I’d pinned him to the wall by his throat until he gave me the information I wanted.
He’d also ignored Convict on her other side, the two of us hanging around like fucking bodyguards.
I had no time for their lengthy discussions and legal processes, and from the first ten minutes of this meeting, where he’d spoken that whole time but said nothing real, one of us was in for pain.
“Get to the point,” I ordered. “You said your company was searching for Darcy Marchant. Have you found her?”
Cochran sat perfectly still. “We have not been so successful—”
“But if she is found, the vote can go ahead and the company can start running again?”
He inclined his head with shaking movements. “Within days.”
“What have ye tried?” I asked.
“We have spoken with the police and contracted a private detective to run searches on various databases.”
“But found nothing?”
“That is correct.”
I dropped my head back and exhaled.
“What happens if Darcy isn’t found?” Mila asked.
He shuffled his papers until he found the correct one.
“The voting system will revert to the backup plan your grandfather established. The four voting members of yourself, Mr Ryan,” he didn’t so much as peep at me as he said my name, “your uncle, Wallace Marchant, and your grandmother. The fifth vote will become the responsibility of the trusted company panel.”
Mila had explained the panel to me. Three companies linked to Marchant Haulage and whose directors or chief executives her grandfather had trusted.
I liked that option less than finding a half-sister who could be persuaded over to my side.
The names of the companies hadn’t been shared to avoid the kind of persuasion I was good at.
Mila thought she could work out who they were but wasn’t certain.
Her belief was that they’d vote with her grandmother to disband the company.
That would take months, possibly years according to the solicitors.
The family members who were used to regular payouts would get nothing until the dismantling was complete.
It was a fucking mess.
From the very first time I’d heard the name Marchant, I’d hated it. Nothing about the people I unfortunately shared blood with was of interest to me. The relatives were money-grubbing. Their concerns of no interest.
Yet the need to get their precious business up and running again was more vital to me than breathing.
“How long have we got?” Mila asked.
The solicitor searched for another sheet of paper. It felt like a stalling tactic. Like fuck didn’t he have this information in his head.
“The limit is twenty-eight days.”
I eyeballed him. “How far into that limit are we?”
“This is day four.”
Leaving another twenty-four days. I had three and a half weeks to find a woman who didn’t want to be found.
Mila asked another question, but my phone buzzed in my pocket and directed my attention away. I checked the screen. Blair. Ice filled my veins.
I pushed away from the table and took the call outside, answering without a word.
“Kane?” a cutting voice said.
“What?”
“It’s late.”
I closed my eyes. “I know.”
“They are talking about all these extra charges and fines. The last payment wasn’t enough. This one is missing. You know what will happen next.”
My breath escaped me in a heavy rush. Day to day, I could compartmentalise what I’d left behind. The pain stayed in my rearview mirror. It was the only way I could function. But calls like these cut deep.
“I’ll get the money,” I promised.
“You need to. This is your doing. If the worst happens, it’s all your fault.”
She hung up on me.
Those final words froze me to the bone. My fault.
My responsibility. Age-old guilt crawled over me until I was a kid again, hearing the words and wishing I could curl up in a ball.
Except it was so frequent, it had become part of my life and I couldn’t hide from it.
Worthless boy, causing all the problems.
By degrees, I forced it to recede and freed myself to move again.
The order had been made and the command given. Mila was still in the meeting, but I needed a minute to clear my head or the solicitor was going to lose his.
On the street, I walked away from the building.
There was only one option left now for me to get ready cash.
The flat I had to sell in Manchester. It meant leaving Deadwater for a day to empty the place and hand over the keys to whichever estate agent could promise the quickest deal.
Time I couldn’t afford, but the task had to be done.
For a few heartbeats, I let my regret and deep-held hurt wash through me, soaking into my blood and bones. I wasn’t indulging in the emotions. I had no use for them. It was only a reminder of all I’d done and what I was responsible for. I needed that guidance to keep me on task.
Then I packed it away piece by piece until my mask of indifference was back in place.
Just in time for a fuckin’ vision to step out of the building next door. Lovelyn clutched her big purple bag, too busy to notice me. It was the police headquarters she was leaving. A place she had access to along with all the resources to find a missing person.
The lass had featured in my dreams, so much I’d woken with my hand around my dick and her face behind my closed eyes. She’d turned me down, and annoyingly, it had only made me want her more.
I ignored the unnecessary attraction and focused on the opportunity.
I was staring at target number one in getting what I wanted. All I had to do was find the right buttons to push to make my prey obey me.