Chapter Thirty-Eight
LILY
Keep my mouth shut.
Ihad no clue how hard that would be.
Cooper had called her poison.
Poison was an understatement.
The flight to Huntsville was only an hour. I hadn't wanted to leave Adam behind. It sounds crazy, but in five years we'd never been separated by more than a handful of miles.
I'd never traveled without him. Why would I? It's not like Trey and I went on romantic weekend getaways or I went home to visit my family. It was always Adam and me.
Getting on that plane without him, even with Knox by my side, felt like tearing off a limb. I had to leave him. There was no way I was bringing him anywhere near LeAnne Gates. Not until we knew what part she'd played in his birth and adoption. Not when Cooper called her poison.
Knox seemed confident that he could handle whatever we'd find when we finally saw LeAnne Gates. I wasn't so sure. If she was over sixty, I doubted she'd been involved with my husband.
She definitely wasn't Adam's mother, which meant there was another woman involved. Someone who might have a claim to my son. Someone who might want him back, no matter what Knox said.
Alice volunteered to stay with Adam at Knox's house, keeping him company until we got back. He watched me go with uncertain eyes, his hand tightly clasped in Alice's, her smile warm and reassuring.
I was uneasy leaving him with her, no matter how much I liked her. Knox said he'd trust her with his life. That would have to be enough.
Thanks to Alice, a car was waiting for us when we landed. The drive to LeAnne Gates' gated neighborhood took less than twenty minutes. At the entrance, security refused to let us through. Knox got out of the car, exchanged tense words with the guard, and held out his hand for the phone.
I don't know what he said, but two minutes later he slid behind the driver's seat, putting the car into gear as the gate swung smoothly open. We found the house after only a few turns down nearly identical streets packed with carbon copy McMansions.
It looked like no one lived here. No cars parked in the street. No bicycles abandoned in the driveways. Knox slowed in front of 57 Arcadia Drive and stopped the car.
I swiped on lip balm and tugged at my skirt. I'd changed into a sundress and pulled my hair up into a bun before we left Knox's house. It felt wrong to meet the woman who held my fate in her hands wearing shorts, my face surrounded by frizzy curls.
No amount of makeup or pretty dresses could ease the twist in my stomach or dry the sweat from my palms. Knox waited for me in front of the SUV, taking my hand as we approached the house. The door opened before we got there.
For a second, I was sure we had the wrong house. The woman in the doorway was taller than me, her platinum blonde hair streaked with threads of gold. Her oddly-beautiful lavender eyes were eclipsed by heavy black liner and thick mascara.
We must have interrupted her work-out. She'd pulled her hair into a high ponytail, secured by a hot pink scrunchie and sweatband that matched her cropped exercise top and the tiniest pair of bike shorts I'd ever seen.
Cleavage was everywhere. So much cleavage, the skin was wrinkling between her breasts from the force shoving them together. I was pretty sure I could see the bottom curve of her ass hanging out of the bike shorts.
This couldn't be LeAnne Gates. Knox had said she was in her sixties. I would have put this woman in her late forties, at worst.
She said nothing, studying Knox with her lavender eyes before they came to me. When her eyes met mine, understanding bloomed. This woman knew exactly who I was.
Her mouth twisted into a scowling smirk. Wrinkles bloomed around her hot pink lips, and I could almost believe her age. Either this woman was a model for healthy living, or she had an ample budget for the best that cosmetic surgery had to offer.
Propping a hand on her hip she opened her mouth. “Well, well, well, if it isn't one of Maxwell's boys and the grieving widow. I haven't talked to your father, so I don't know what you want with me.”
“Let us in, and we'll tell you. You don't want to do this on your front stoop,” Knox said.
Her hand twitched, and I thought she'd slam the door in our faces. Maybe thinking better of it, she stepped back and let us in. We followed her into the formal living room by the front door. Knox stopped in the entrance, and I bumped into him, so distracted by her decor I wasn't paying attention.
Pink and green. She might have called it rose and avocado, but by any name the color palette was hideous. Her velvet couch was a rusty shade of gold that brought to mind the days of disco.
Every single thing in the room you could sit on was covered in clear plastic slipcovers. Afternoon sunlight angled through the window, glaring off all that plastic, giving the room a glow that left me wanting to close my eyes for relief.
“You boys haven't found Maxwell yet?” LeAnne asked, snagging a crystal glass from the bar cart in the corner and filling it with a generous slosh of vodka. She didn't offer either of us a drink, not that I wanted one.
I hadn't missed the mockery in her voice and pressed myself to Knox's side in comfort. The situation with his father was bad enough. She didn't have to laugh at him over it.
I remembered what Cooper said. Poison. I was beginning to see what he meant.
Pulling a pack of cigarettes from somewhere—there was no way those bicycle shorts had pockets—she brought it to her mouth and flicked the lighter that appeared in her hand.
I squinted at her outfit, trying to imagine where in the cleavage-baring crop top and tiny bicycle shorts she'd managed to stash a cigarette lighter. I didn't think I wanted to know.
I watched her light up and exhale a puff of smoke in our direction. So, her youthful appearance didn't owe itself to healthy living. She sat in one of the chairs, the plastic crinkling, probably sticking to her bare legs.
Knox ignored her taunt. “We're not here about my father. Exactly.”
“I should have known. You have the widow so you must be here about Trey. He was a good fuck. Kinky. We had fun, but there wasn't much between us. You know, since he was married and all.”
LeAnne Gates made no effort to hide her venom. My mouth opened before I thought better of it. “You and Trey? Aren't you a little… Old for him?”
Knox's hand tightened on mine in warning.
I know, I know I said I'd keep my mouth shut, but really? She was going to start by bragging about sleeping with my husband?
Oddly, I felt no sting at the confirmation he'd been cheating on me. He'd thrown my heart away so early in our marriage—what he'd done with his body hardly seemed important.
“Oh, you know Trey,” she said, crossing her legs in a way that might have been suggestive if I wasn't so grossed out. “All those issues with his parents. He had a real mommy complex. We weren't working together long before things got… personal. You know what I mean.”
I knew exactly what she meant, but this time I kept my mouth shut as promised. I had to or I would have thrown up all over her.
As it was, bile rose in my throat, the acid burning deep.
I saw it as soon as the words left her mouth.
She was like a trashy version of Trey's mom.
Mrs. Spencer had blue eyes instead of lavender, and a haughty New England accent versus LeAnne's Southern, but otherwise…
oh, gross. Just ick. The platinum hair, their height, even the curvy build. All the same.
I swallowed hard, fighting back the need to vomit at the thought that Trey had been fucking this woman because she reminded him of his mother. My heart squeezed, feeling sorry for him for a split second before it swerved back to…ugh, gross.
LeAnne soaked up every drop of emotion in my face, mistaking my disgust for the pain of betrayal, savoring her defeat of me with a smile. She bounced her crossed leg, her hot pink toenails flashing in the light.
“If Maxwell had had a piece like Trey working with him when we started, the job would've been a lot more fun. He sure as hell livened up the last few years. Especially when he came back wanting a kid of his own.”
No, I was wrong. This did hurt.
I couldn't stop the flinch as those words hit my brain. Came back wanting a kid of his own. As if I didn't even factor in the equation.
Knox studied LeAnne for a long moment before coming to a decision. His hand on my lower back, he urged me to the couch, and we sat as if this were a friendly meeting. Nothing more than a chat over drinks. Except LeAnne was the only one with a drink. She tossed back a slug of vodka and waited.
“You brokered the deal for Trey's son?” Knox prompted.
“You don't know?” Her eyes landed on me, speculative. “Isn't that interesting.” Then her face went hard. “You know how this works. Since you're Maxwell's boy I might be willing to talk, but I don't do shit for free.”
“I know how it works,” Knox agreed. “How much?”
“Depends on what you want,” she said, exhaling a stream of smoke aimed straight at my face. I resisted the urge to fan it away, keeping my eyes on her and my mouth closed.
Even if I wanted to talk, I wasn't sure what I'd say. At this point, I was better off letting Knox lead.
“Everything,” Knox said. “Specifically, the circumstances of the child's birth, and copies of any paperwork pertaining to the exchange. For a start.”
“Paperwork?” Her eyes narrowed on me. “Trey brought all that home with him. He didn't leave it for you? Puts you in a sticky situation.”
“Don't get cocky,” Knox warned. “Were you aware the FBI is involved with my father's business as it pertains to Andrei Tsepov?”
LeAnne took another swig of her drink, her eyes cutting to the side. I guessed she did know, and she wasn't happy about it.
Knox went on, “We have some excellent hackers on staff.
Between Trey's laptop, his files, and everything my father left behind, we've got plenty that implicates one LeAnne Gates of Huntsville, Alabama. Jerk me around and the next knock at your door will be from the FBI. Do we understand each other?”
LeAnne Gates lifted her chin in defiance and exhaled another noxious stream of smoke, but when her lungs were empty, she gave a jerky nod. “I still want the money.”
Damn, this woman had balls.
“We'll pay what's fair,” Knox said. “Tell me what happened with Trey and the baby.”
I was glad Knox didn't use Adam's name. I didn't want to hear it spoken in this room, with this woman. I didn't care that she'd had her hands on my husband, but I didn't want to know that she had anything to do with my beautiful little boy.
Adam was innocence. This woman was anything but.