Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
NEVAEH
“I’m not sure how long I’m going to be,” I tell Rosco when we pull up in front of my dad’s office. “If you want to take off, I can call you when I’m ready to go.”
He steps out of the SUV and opens my door for me, then looks around. “I’ll hang out here.” He points to the coffee shop next door. “Grab a coffee and catch up on some reading.” He pulls a rolled up magazine out from his back pocket.
“Okay, cool. Thank you again for driving me.”
“No worries,” he says with a smile. “Go on up.” He nods toward the building. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”
After waving goodbye to him, I enter the building and go to the elevator. It takes a few minutes after pressing the button for the elevator to arrive. When I get in, I hit the tenth floor and watch the numbers rise until I get to my dad’s floor.
The doors open and I walk down the hall to his office. His secretary, Glenda, greets me when I walk in.
“How are you, Nevaeh?”
“I’m good. You?”
“Busy as usual. Your dad said you can go straight back.”
“Thank you.” On my way back to his office, I pop my head into a few of his employees’ offices to say a quick hello. My dad has had this insurance agency since before I was born, and for the most part, his employees have been here just as long.
When I get to my dad’s office, his door is open, so I walk in without knocking. Instead of sitting behind his desk, where he usually is, he’s sitting on the couch—with my mom.
“Hello, sweetheart,” my dad says, standing and walking over to give me a hug.
“I thought it was going to be just us,” I whisper, so my mom doesn’t hear.
“She showed up and refused to leave,” he replies before releasing me.
I should’ve known she would pull this crap.
“Mom,” I say, walking over to give her a hug.
“Nevaeh.” She stands and rakes her eyes down my body in disgust. I raise a brow, daring her to say something about my choice of clothes, but she keeps her mouth shut. Which is probably for the best since I’m no longer the girl who would cower at her insults and go running home to change.
“Mr. Hansen, your food has arrived.” Glenda walks in holding three boxes in one hand and a bag in the other. She lays the boxes out then sets out the drinks and utensils that were in the bag.
“Thank you, Glenda,” my dad says, gesturing for me to sit on the love seat adjacent to the couch he and my mom are sitting on.
The three of us open our boxes filled with food from the deli we love and start eating. Mine has all my favorites: shrimp eggs benedict with home fries, fruit, and a toasted blueberry muffin on the side.
For the next few minutes, we eat in silence. I’m not sure how to start this conversation. Do I bring up what I came here to talk to my dad about—what my brother told me? Since my mom is here, it’s probably best if I include her in the conversation. I also need to tell them about my tumor.
Setting down my fork, I clear my throat to get their attention. “I came here to speak to Dad about something Stephen told me before he died.” I look at my mother. “I tried to speak to you about it, but you didn’t want to talk. Since you’re here, I would rather hear it from you.”
Mom’s face goes stoic, and I can tell she’s already raising her walls, but she nods once for me to continue.
“Stephen told me he came across a journal of yours that insinuated he wasn’t Dad’s son.”
Mom gasps.
Dad’s face whips around to look at my mother, his eyes bulging.
“Is this true?” he asks.
“No.” She shakes her head. “I promise, Stephen was—is—your son.”
She stands, glaring daggers at me. “How dare you accuse me of cheating on my husband!”
“I didn’t accuse you of anything,” I say, trying to remain calm.
I knew she would react this way. God forbid she have a conversation like a mature adult, without freaking out and being dramatic.
I can feel a headache looming and I’m trying to avoid it, so I can get through everything I need to say. “I’m asking you if this is true.”
“And I’m telling you it’s not.”
“So, he made it up? You didn’t have a journal…”
“I told you he was your father’s son!” she shouts. “If you don’t want to believe me that’s up to you.”
“Susan, you used to journal,” Dad points out. “If there’s something—”
“I can’t believe this,” she cries. “You’re going to take her side? You know how messed up Stephen was, and Nevaeh refused to see it. And now she’s married to that thug who owns a club.” She spits out the last word like it’s a curse word.
“Mom…” My head is pounding and I’m starting to see stars.
“No, I’ve had enough.” She gathers her coat and storms off, leaving my dad and me alone.
“I’m sorry.” He sighs.
“You don’t have to apologize for her. You aren’t responsible for the way she acts.”
“No, but if I had stood up to her more, maybe I would’ve known Stephen was in trouble sooner and I could’ve helped him.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.” He nods. “After he passed, I went through his accounts. Everything was burned in the fire, so I had his mail forwarded to the office. He was in debt. Gambling with the wrong men and spending every dollar available on his credit cards. He was several months behind on rent.”
I’m in shock. Does he know Ethan is one of the men Stephen owed?
I want to ask, but at the same time I don’t want to bring it up if he doesn’t know.
At first, I wanted to blame Ethan for Stephen’s death, but I quickly learned killing people isn’t how Ethan does business.
Stephen’s death was one hundred percent Logan and even though he isn’t rotting in jail for it, he’s still going to spend many years locked away for other reasons.
As much as I’d like to add to his sentence by going to the police and telling them it was Logan who shot my brother, I would never risk Ethan getting caught up in that.
“I suspected,” I admit.
Dad nods. “I’m not sure what your brother read or where the journal was, but I’d like to believe your mom is telling the truth and Stephen’s my son.
Even if he wasn’t biologically, I loved him as such and that wouldn’t change by knowing his blood type doesn’t match mine.
I do hate that he had those suspicions and died with them. ”
I place my hand on Dad’s. “He knew you loved him.”
“Is there anything else you needed to talk to me about?”
I open my mouth to tell him about the tumor when a horrible migraine hits me full force.
“Nevaeh?”
“Yeah, sorry.” I close my eyes, counting to ten, hoping it will let up, but it doesn’t. “Do you think we could continue this conversation tomorrow?”
“Of course. Is everything okay?”
“I just—” The feeling of needles being pounded into my skull causes blackness to momentarily overtake me.
Once I can see again, I finish what I was trying to say.
“I would like to speak to you and Mom together. Can you ask her to please meet with us so I can talk to you both? It’s not about Stephen. ”
“Okay.” He gives me a worried look.
I stand, holding on to the arm of the couch. “I love you, Dad.” I give him a hug.
“I love you, too, Nevaeh. I’ll speak to your mom and call you tonight.”
“Thank you.”
With my head throbbing, I send a text to Rosco to let him know I’m done and will meet him downstairs.
I say goodbye to Glenda and head to the elevator.
Once I’m in, I press the button for the first floor.
When it lands, I step out, looking for Rosco.
My head is extremely fuzzy, worse than it’s ever been—something is wrong.
I spot him standing by the SUV, but before I can get to him, a hand lands on my bicep and I’m yanked in the opposite direction.
Natural instinct has me screaming, but the hallway is empty, and before anyone can hear me, a large hand covers my mouth.
I kick and punch, but he’s too strong and hauls me out the back of the building.
I get a look at the man, suspecting it to be Logan, but it’s not.
Unlike Logan, who looks like an all-American boy, this man screams danger.
He has several tattoos covering his sun-wrinkled skin.
He’s dressed in a business suit, but his hand, which is reaching for the trunk, is covered in tattoos as well.
And unlike Ethan’s beautiful tattoos, these look like they were done in a basement somewhere.
“Your husband thought he could flip sides and go straight. Turn me in…” He picks me up and drops me into the trunk. “Nobody keeps what’s owed to me.”
“Who are you?”
The man smirks evilly. “Most call me Felix, but you can call me your keeper. At least until I get you sold. I would’ve gotten more for you if you had still been a virgin, but with your age and how pretty you are, no doubt I’ll get what’s owed to me.”
Before I can scream, my head pulses and an electric current flows through my body.
The trunk begins to close, slowly taking the light with it, but it doesn’t matter, because my entire body begins to spasm and my vision is lost. I try to focus on what’s happening, but my brain and body aren’t computing, and before I can figure out what’s wrong, my body gives out and everything in me shuts down.