27. Maddox #3
And in the meantime, this cop and I needed to talk. I had to cross him off my list of suspects.
Exhaustion sat heavy in my bones, and not the tiredness sleep would fix.
It would help, but I needed more than rest. I needed a fucking vacation from my life.
Permanently. Or at least from crew shit.
What had once been a source of pride was now a burden, and the burden was becoming more than I wanted to bear.
The house was quiet when I finally made it home.
It was weird living in such an empty house now with Kreed and Raine gone.
Mason was rarely home, and Dad, hell, I couldn’t remember the last time I saw him for more than five minutes in passing.
This place was too big not to be filled with laughter and life.
If my mom were still alive, I imagined the feeling of coming home wouldn’t be so sterile. This house was a damn tomb lately.
I barely made it past the foyer before his voice cut through the silence. “Maddox.”
I stilled, one foot already on the bottom stair leading up to my room. So much for the house being empty. Glancing at the staircase in front of me to the hallway, I was seriously contemplating ignoring his summons and going straight to bed. I didn’t have the energy for my father.
Screw it. It’s not like I could actually sleep.
Releasing the banister, I dragged myself down the hall. His office door stood open, warm light spilling out into the darkened hallway like an invitation that was anything but.
“You’re home,” he said when I appeared in the doorway. “I wasn’t sure anyone lived here anymore.”
I dragged in a breath and stepped inside. “I could say the same for you.”
Dad sat behind his massive desk, sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing forearms corded with muscle that hadn’t softened despite his age. A glass of whiskey sat at his elbow, and a cigar burned between his fingers, smoke curling lazily toward the coffered ceiling. “You’re out a lot,” he commented.
I leaned against the door frame instead of sitting, crossing my arms over my chest to create distance even in the small space. “So are you.”
His lips twitched, and it was gone before it could be called a smile. “I never see you anymore,” he continued, setting down the papers and reaching for his whiskey. “You or Mason. You’re ghosts in this house.”
“Busy,” I clipped out.
His gaze pinned me in place. “I’m aware. I also know,” he said, tapping ash from his cigar into the crystal tray beside his drink, “that you and your brother have been sticking your noses into business that has nothing to do with the Ravens. I thought we put that problem to bed earlier this year.”
He was referring to when he’d killed Rusty, Kaylor’s father’s business partner. The same asshole who betrayed his best friend and headed a human trafficking organization. For what Rusty had done to Kaylor, death wasn’t a cruel enough punishment.
“We only cut the head off the snake.”
Taking a sip of his drink, he eyed me over the rim. “If you’re not careful, that head will bite you.”
“I know you think this isn’t our fight, but they are taking girls from our town.”
“Don’t mistake my silence for ignorance. There’s a time and a place for everything. You and your brothers could use a hard lesson on patience.”
I snorted. “Does this mean you’re going to get in our way?” He was notorious for interference, and my father’s reach was too fucking far. Annoyingly so.
His eyes held mine across the desk. “I haven’t decided yet.” Cigar smoke drifted in the air between us.
That answer was worse than a yes. Worse than a flat no. It meant he was watching. Or more like Evan was watching. Evan worked for my father and headed his security.
I pushed off the door frame, my shoulders tense with the effort of not saying what I wanted to say. “I should get some sleep.” I turned toward the door.
“Before you go.”
I paused. Of course. There was always one more thing. Glancing over my shoulder, I waited to see what he could possibly say next.
“I need you and Mason home on Sunday. I have something I need to tell you.” A glint of emotion passed through his expression. “All of you,” he added.
That made me turn back fully, my hand dropping from the door. “All of us?” I repeated, my brow furrowing.
If he wanted all four of us here, something was up, something I wasn’t sure I would be happy about. He rarely called us all together at home. Crew business was different. This was personal. “Are you dying?” It was all my brain could come up with on the fly.
His lips twitched again, closer to a real smile this time. Smoke drifted around his rugged features, dulling their edge. “Not yet, son.”
“I’ll tell Mason,” I replied before stepping out into the hall and pulling the door shut behind me.
As if I didn’t have enough on my plate, I now had to worry about what was so important that my father had to call us all home.
I didn’t have a good feeling about this family meeting on Sunday, but as long as it wasn’t life-threatening, how important could it be?