Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
LEON - PRESENT DAY
The weight of three handguns and ammunition in my backpack presses against my spine with each turn.
The price Knapp demanded was steep, but facing my father and anyone else in my way unarmed isn’t an option.
At least Knapp kept his word, which is more than I can say for most men in his line of work.
I coast down the street toward Mum’s, my engine barely above an idle to avoid waking the neighbors.
It’s past one in the morning and every house sits dark and silent.
With the weapons secured, I’m finally one step closer to finding Bailey.
That thought dulls the ache in my bruised ribs and the sting of my split lip.
Only one light illuminates the front door as I park along the street. The rest of the house is dark, but I know Mum’s probably lying awake, waiting to hear me come in. She always worried when I stayed out late as a teenager, and a few years away hasn’t changed that.
I open the door slowly, trying to avoid noise from the hinges that need oiling, and make my way up the stairs. As expected, the moment my boot touches the first stair, Mum’s groggy voice drifts down.
“Leon?”
I take the stairs two at a time and peek my head in her room, inhaling her comforting scent. Some space from her has helped me clear my head. “You didn’t have to wait up.”
“I know,” she says, shifting under the worn patchwork quilt that belonged to Nana. “Turn off the porch light before you go to bed.”
“Alright. Love you.”
She murmurs something back in reply, but I’m already heading downstairs, my hand trailing down the worn wooden banister.
As I reach for the porch light switch movement from outside catches my eye.
I move the lace curtain aside and press my face closer to the window to get a better look.
There’s a black car idling near the curb.
Headlights off, only the dim glow from the dashboard showing any hint of light.
I yank the door open, my pulse racing, and sprint outside. My boots crunch against the path with loud thuds. But I’m too late. The engine comes alive and in a matter of seconds I’m left staring after red tail lights as it speeds down the dark, narrow street.
I catch my breath, waiting to see if they turn around and come back. My hand reaches for the zipper of my backpack, still slung over my shoulders, and I pull out the gun I loaded before riding home.
The hair on the back of my neck’s standing on end, there’s no way that wasn’t someone waiting and watching. But who? And what reason? Did they follow me here from Knapp’s? Or was it someone to do with my father?
I wait a few more minutes, my fingers curled around the grip, safety off, before the adrenaline finally starts to ebb. The street stays empty. No engine sounds cutting through the quiet. No headlights flaring in the dark. Just the sound of my shallow breathing, and the light of the moon.
Slowly, I back toward the front door, keeping my eyes on the street until I’m inside with the deadbolt twisted tight and the porch light off.
Somehow, I felt safer outside, on high alert.
This house feels fragile now, its familiar comfort tainted from the knowledge that someone’s watching it…
watching me. The walls feel less solid, like they’re made of paper that could tear with the smallest effort, letting anyone or anything inside.
I lean against the door, weapon still in hand, letting my heart rate decrease slowly.
Logically, I have a strong idea of who that was.
The timing can’t be coincidence. It had to be Knapp’s guys.
But why? I did as he asked… paid him more than enough.
Does he need collateral on me? If I put Mum in danger, I swear to God.
Unless?
James had warned me to watch my back. Something about our father.
Once I’m fairly certain whoever it was isn’t returning, I head upstairs and secure my backpack under my bed. I shower and brush my teeth as quietly as possible and by the time I come back, there’s a new email notification on my phone.
My stomach drops.
From: Alfred Colter
Subject: Dinner
Leon,
I trust this message finds you well. Our dinner reservation at The Savoy remains for Saturday evening at 8 PM sharp. Punctuality has always been important in our family, as I’m sure you recall from your childhood.
We have much to discuss regarding your future and new opportunities. Some that I’m eager to share.
Do dress appropriately. Let Ms. Harrington know if you need money for a new suit.
—Father
I read it twice, my jaw clenching harder each time. Our family. You mean the one you weren’t a part of? My childhood. Again, where were you in that time? It takes everything in me not to hit reply and tell him exactly how I feel. But I can’t… not when he could have information I need.
The black car outside makes more sense now. I’d bet money it wasn’t Knapp watching me. It’s my father, or more likely someone working for him. But why?
I climb under my sheets and lie on my back, staring at the discoloration of old paint on my ceiling.
Only a few more days until I find out for certain what he’s up to.
But there’s no reason to wait around until then.
Tomorrow, I’m following up on the charity, and any other property my father’s involved in.
If Alfred thinks he can play games with me, he’s about to learn that I’ve picked up a few new skills.
I manage maybe two hours of sleep. My mind keeps cycling between the black car, the email, and the warning from James.
Add in the aches, pains, and the split lip I can’t stop biting, and I’m a miserable son of a bitch.
Jumpy too. Every creak of the old house has me reaching for the gun under my bed.
By six, I give up on sleep entirely, make some tea and toast, and position myself by the front window, watching the street through a gap in Mum’s lace curtains.
The morning is gray and drizzly, typical London weather that doesn’t help my shit mood.
I hope the rain holds out before I have to check out the addresses I pulled on my father.
I’m about to get up to make another cup of tea when I hear car doors slamming outside… then a familiar raucous voice.
“Bloody hell… this place is small.”
Jasper.
“Oh my God Jas, you need to stop with the terrible British accent. You’re going to offend someone.”
Falin.
My chest tightens in a mix of relief and panic. What are they doing here? I push the curtain aside and see a red SUV parked along the curb behind my bike, luggage pressed up against the back windows.
Jasper stands on the pavement, his clothes crumpled and light hair messed from travel.
He stretches his arms overhead and looks around the cramped residential street, grinning like an idiot.
Then Damon climbs out from the driver’s side with his usual composure, immediately scanning the area with those eagle eyes of his.
Blake emerges from the back, her dark hair catching what little morning light filters through the clouds, illuminating her almost purple highlights. Her hair’s pulled up into two buns, and she’s wearing pants that hug every curve and a cropped band shirt. Beautiful as always.
Then Falin comes from the other side of the car, clutching two cat carriers that shake like they contain unearthly demons, which isn’t too far from the truth.
She’s done something to her hair. One side is the normal platinum but the other half is black.
It makes her look even tougher, but still stunning in her own way.
She’s wearing all black, ripped jeans, combat boots, and one of Jasper’s oversized hoodies.
“Fucksake,” I breathe. “They brought the cats.”
I’m at the front door before they can make it up the garden path, yanking it open with perhaps more force than necessary. “What the hell are you all doing here? I said Friday. It’s Wednesday.”
Jasper’s grin widens as he approaches, a duffel bag slung over each shoulder. “Look who’s happy to see us! We couldn’t wait, mate. Had to hop across the pond.”
That accent. I fight the urge to palm myself in the face.
“You’re looking like hell, brother,” Damon says in lieu of a greeting.
“Happy to see you too,” I say in a blank tone.
Blake drops her bags and runs at me, wrapping me in a fierce hug. I hold her close, fighting back tears. “We’re here,” she whispers. “And we’re not leaving until we find her.”
She pulls back and takes a closer look at my face, touching my split lip and the bruises on my cheek. “What happened here? I better look you over.”
Falin joins her side, cupping my chin to take a closer look, air hissing from her teeth. “Ouch. Hope the other guy looks worse.”
“It’s a long story—”
“Leon? What’s all the noise out—oh my word!”
Mum appears behind me in her frayed dressing gown, hair still wrapped in a silk scarf, and freezes when she takes in the four attractive and imposing Americans standing on her doorstep. Her eyes turn the size of dinner plates.
“Mum, these are my friends. They arrived early,” I explain before she drops dead from shock. I go through introducing her to each person.
“Son, you didn’t tell me your friends were so...” She trails off, her cheeks turning pink as she takes in Damon’s sharp jawline and Jasper’s carefree grin.
“Handsome,” Blake finishes for her, barely holding back her laughter.
“I was going to say tall,” Mum says quickly. She may as well start fanning herself. “Please, come in, come in. I’ll put the kettle on. Though I’m not sure how we’ll all fit in the sitting room. It’s not exactly built for... for people of your... stature.”
An otherworldly yowl comes from one of the cat carriers. Ah, Havoc, I have missed you.
Mum’s eyes widen even further. “And what in God’s name was that? It sounds like a banshee being murdered.”
“Close enough,” I say under my breath.