41. Thayer
THAYER
“What the hell happened?” I bark at Dakota, who’s driving the SUV.
“Gunfire at the side entrance. I don’t have any specifics. The royals gave the order to pull the Crown Princess. Holloway called it for us a second later.” Dakota speeds out of the estate, flying around the corner.
I grab my phone and text Holloway.
Details?
Holloway
Hang on.
“What did you see?” I ask the guys in the car.
“Nothing, just heard the pop,” Oliver says.
“It was gunfire. A suppressed subsonic round, .22LR caliber,” Anders says, his voice grim. “Probably a precision hunting rifle. Two shots. It could have come from anywhere.”
“Fuck,” Oliver says, his fingers flying over his phone.
“Is Sutton okay?” Emily asks.
“She’s good. She apologizes for not being able to say goodbye to you.” Oliver puts his hand on Emily’s leg.
“Oh . . . I’m glad she’s okay. I just hope everyone else is too.”
Holloway
I’m staying here to see if we can track the shooter.
Shooting is confirmed?
Holloway
Confirmed. Two shots, one bullet found in the corner tent support. Other hit a server who came around the corner. She fell behind the tent. Status unknown. Bolt-action rifle. This was a professional hit.
“Fuck,” I say.
“What?” Emily leans forward. I’m glad I have the screen privacy filter on my phone.
“Two shots, like Anders said.” I raise my eyebrow at him. How does a maritime guy like him know guns?
He grimaces. “My dad wanted me to be a detective like he was. We spent a lot of time talking about the importance of understanding weapons.”
“I can’t believe someone wants to hurt Sutton. She’s the nicest.” Emily shakes her head.
I nod. Emily’s not wrong in that Sutton’s nice. But there were two women in the possible line of fire. Sutton might not have been the target. My eyes flick around the car—I’m not the only one who’s thinking the same thing.
It’s almost midnight when Holloway knocks on my door. “Boss.”
“Come in.” I’m getting in the habit of leaving the office door open. It’s easier to hear what Emily and her men are doing. “What did you find out?”
“Two shots, definitely a .308. Professional hit. This wasn’t some crazed royal hater.” He clears his throat.
“Just say it.”
“I’m not sure it was a shot for the Crown Princess.”
“I agree.”
“The angle’s off. If that server hadn’t gotten in the way, it would have hit Ms. Rockwell.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“The Castoria guards believe it was a targeting error. The wind picked up right as the shot was fired.”
“What do you think?”
“I think we need to recall the rest of the team from the houses in France and Switzerland.”
“Do it.”
“Glad you approve, because en route already.”
“What made you think I wouldn’t want to change locations?”
“Because I know you.” He pivots and heads out.
“What happened to the server?”
“She didn’t make it.”
“Fuck. Close the door, please.”
The thunk has me locked in, glaring at my phone. James hasn’t called. He hasn’t even had one of his disposable flunkies reach out. I hate it. But I have to do what I have to do. It’s midnight here, so six a.m. in Thailand. I hit dial.
“Thayer.”
“Father,” I hiss.
“I’ve been waiting for your call.”
The asshole.
“I’m calling.”
“I heard there was a disturbance at the Joneses’ party.”
“Yes.”
“You were there. Good for you. Your grandparents would love your mingling with the English aristocracy. And the royals of Castoria. So good the Crown Princess wasn’t hurt.”
I hate this man with all of my soul. I’d give anything for that bullet to have hit him today. Only, the vile creatures he does business with would step into his shoes.
“What are you calling for, son?”
There’s a half a dozen legitimate business things I could bring up. I swallow it down. “I’m marrying Emily.”
“No, you’re not.”
“She’s pregnant, and I’m marrying her.”
“Is it yours?”
“Fuck you.”
“It’s a legitimate question.”
“You think she’d marry me if it weren’t mine? Why, to make her life easier? Fuck you.”
“I think you’re hanging around with Whitehall again. So how do you know it’s yours?”
“I know. Oliver is a friend.”
“What is it they say? A friend with benefits?”
“I’m getting married. And it’s my child. We had a test done.” And I have the falsified records on my laptop.
He’s silent. There’s rustling in the background. I can see him getting out of bed and pacing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, with the waves crashing on the rocky shoreline down the hill from the house. “You’ve confirmed it. The child is yours?”
“Yes, that’s why I’m calling.”
“I had nothing to do with yesterday.”
My lips purse and my cheeks tighten. For an innocent man, he jumped to the conclusion that I’m accusing him of placing a hit on Emily.
“Good. Because this baby means everything to me. And I will protect it with everything I have.”
James’s laugh rolls out of him, deep and long. “There it is. I knew you had it in you deep down. You’re more like me than you realize.”
It takes every ounce of energy in me not to call bullshit.
I’m nothing like this man. I’ve tried to shape myself to be the exact opposite.
I’ve cut off every important person in my life to protect them from him.
And now I’m right back at placing those same people in harm’s way again.
If not more so. “This baby is important. And so is its mother, now and once the child is born.”
“When’s the wedding?”
“You’re not invited.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“We haven’t picked a date.”
“So you’re not really engaged.”
“She has Sophia’s ring on her finger.”
“Does she?” His words come out slow. And now I’m even more grateful to Oliver for not letting me give Emily the massive diamond I had bought.
“I want to meet her.”
“No.”
The receiver of the phone echoes his breath. “I want to see the child.”
“There’s nothing to see yet.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Are you going to come to England, then?” I quip. Because I know he won’t.
“You bring the child here.”
“I’ll talk to Emily about it.”
“She’s calling the shots? You know that never works.”
I bite down on my lip. “Fuck you, James.”
Some would think I should play nicer with him now. Do what Oliver suggested to get in his good graces. But James would be more shocked if I did a one-eighty.
He laughs. “Well, some things never change. You’ll see how hard having kids is. I still love you. You asshole.”
“I do take after you in some ways.”
“You do.” He ends the call.
I have to hold back the urge to throw my phone at the back wall of the fireplace.
But phase two of the plan is finally in motion.
Emily was right the other day: I need to work faster.
Which is damn hard when you’re trying to run a company while secretly investigating your father’s business. Oliver’s right: I need more help.
I lift up the well-squeezed phone in my hand and call my brother. “Hey, Darius.”
“Man, what time is it?”
“Midnight.”
“Are you a vampire, Thayer? You need to get sleep; it cleanses the brain. You don’t want to end up like—”
“Save it. I need your help.”
“Go ahead. I’m listening.” The fog has lifted from his voice. “You never want my help. Fuck, shit must be going sideways.”
I cock my eyebrows at the phone. There’s a blender going off in the background.
“Yeah, I got you. What do you need?”
“What are you doing?”
“Green juice. If I’m up, I might as well get a snack.”
My phone buzzes, asking to be connected to a FaceTime call. I’m about to deny the request, then I let it go through. He’s shirtless in his tiny Paris flat. The window’s open, and a white curtain flutters, the inky night punctuated by lights in the windows across the street.
I swallow. Because I’ve kept him away from our dad his entire life.
Away as in not involved with anything my dad does.
It’s part of the price James pays for having me.
He doesn’t get to mess with Darius. And since Darius’s mother vanished seven years ago, he’s been more than willing to not have anything to do with James.
“You need a best man.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You know about the wedding?”
“You did a three-page spread in a magazine. And then your picture was all over the internet with Emily Rockwell at that overstuffed excuse of a party. Fucking good thing Princesss Georgina wasn’t hurt.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, you need a best man.”
“A woman died.”
“Yeah, that sucks. Did they catch the shooter?”
“No, the investigation is still ongoing.”
“Bet Holloway was shitting bricks you were there. When’s the big day?”
“I don’t need a best man. It’s going to be a small wedding. But there will be photos. James doesn’t need a record of you there.”
“You really don’t read shit on the internet, do you?”
“No, I think I know about my own wedding.”
“Right, well, I’m sending you a link. You should check it out before you make any decisions.”
“Fine—”
“When do I get to meet her? I got to sort of meet her once. For a few seconds.”
My brow furrows. Because I don’t remember him ever meeting Emily.
“Green Pine graduation. I came with Grandfather.”
I’m squinting harder. Oscar, our grandfather, had a picture on his desk of my graduation, and Darius isn’t in it. Which is odd because there weren’t many times that the four Zambrano men were together. Oscar, James, Darius and I. Darius was there I’ve just forgotten.
“There was a climbing wall in the gym. I ran off and stayed there. Grandfather didn’t make me go to dinner with you. He paid some girl to watch me. She had great tits.”
“You were ten.”
“I was eight, but I was already a breasts guy.” His eyes flash at me on the screen. “Relax, bro, I’ve got more discerning tastes now.”
“You really use ‘bro’?”
“You’re my brother. What do you need? Want me to come around for some sparring? I can clear my schedule next week.”
“Clear your schedule?”
“Hey, I’ve got a job. Gig job.”
I sit down at my desk, my motivation for calling him on the back burner.
Darius never has a job. He’s told me more than once that he plans to live on his trust fund for the rest of his life.
And while the rest of his friends from college jet around the world and stay in expensive apartments with chic addresses, he rents a room from a college friend of his on the edge of Paris.
When he visits, he takes the train, coach.
He’ll go to Morocco or the Riviera with his buddies, but I know he’s not paying.
Every penny he has came from the trust Grandma Sophia and Grandfather Oscar set up for him.
He’s turned down money James has tried to give him. So much so he doesn’t even try anymore.
“That’s great. What are you doing?”
“Sparring at the gym. I’m letting old men hit me in my beautiful face. Makes them happy. They imagine their sons. Don’t care. What do you need? You must be desperate if you’re calling me.”
This plan needs more work. James isn’t going to buy it.
Shit. “Yeah, I need a—” The door to my office swings open. I need a remote lock, that’s what I need.
Oliver saunters over and stands behind me. “Darius, hey. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Oliver, saw the article, man. You look good. We should go out again the next time you’re in Paris.” Darius takes a sip of his smoothie.
“Man, that was a night.” Oliver laughs.
I lower the phone to my desk, leaving the camera pointing at the ceiling. “You went out with my brother?”
“Good deductive ability. Yes. I ran into him in Paris. When was that?” Oliver leans over my desk, staring down at Darius.
“Two years ago, after you came back from the boat thing. Man, that was something. Another reason on the long list of why I avoid the sperm donor.”
Oliver straightens, removing himself from the camera view. He raises an eyebrow at me, then leans back over the phone. “Has he told you?” And I’m not sure what Oliver’s getting at.
“Hell, yeah.”
Oliver stands again, a smirk on his lips. “Really?”
I shake my head.
“Of course. Who else is in the wedding party?” Darius asks.
I’m not having Darius stand next to me for this wedding.
“There’re a few other guys,” Oliver says and laughs, holding his hand up.
“Hey,” I interject. “There’s something else. But we need to talk in person.”
“I’ll be on the first train.”
“No, come for the wedding. I’ll let you know when.”
Darius cocks his head at me. “You’re sure it can wait? You don’t call me in the middle of the night to chat.”
“It’ll have to.”
“Ah.” His eyebrows rise, and he nods. He gets it’s about James. And him coming in out of the blue would send up flags. “When is this wedding?”
“Soon.”
“Then I’ll see you soon.”