Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
“The gala is only a few days away,” Sarah points out petulantly. “You can’t expect to take her with you. She hasn’t been announced, and God knows she doesn’t have something appropriate to wear.”
I wonder if I can crawl under the table without being missed.
“I’ve already added her to the list,” my father tells her firmly. “She deserves a reward for coming to terms with her engagement to Drew, despite his indiscretions. Isn’t that right, dear?” His tone is deadly. Arsenic threaded with the lace of civility.
“Yes, Father.” I lower my eyes in submission. Fake as it is, he buys it, sending me a large smile.
“Good.” He turns back to Sarah. “Everything is settled, dear. Dalia didn’t want to attend in the first place, and Drew wants to show off his fiancée officially.” Something about the way he says officially makes my skin crawl.
“I’ve been waiting for this for a while,” Drew admits casually as he cuts into his steak. “It has been years in the making. A great buy, if you ask me.”
“Indeed,” my father agrees as he pushes his finished plate away, waving to the server with an idle hand.
I have barely touched my food. My tongue is thick in my mouth, heavy with the words I want to slash their way. I remain silent, like a good submissive daughter, despite the volcano of emotion erupting inside me.
“Well,” Drew pushes away from the table and stands, “As much as I appreciate the hospitality, I have someone I have to get back to.” His eyes draw to me, categorizing my reaction to him mentioning that Brittany waits at home for him.
Good. He can fuck her while I figure out how the fuck I am going to get into my father’s safe.
“Of course.” My father stands as well, offering his hand and shaking Drew’s. “You’re welcome anytime.”
Drew smiles thinly at my father, then casts one last glance at me before strolling out of the room.
“May I be excused?” I murmur.
“Yes,” my father approves. “Sarah will have some dresses delivered to your room tomorrow for you to try on. Do remember to be on your best behavior.”
“Yes, Father,” I mumble as I leave the table, head lowered. Dinner has been suffocating to the point where all I want to do is flee. Run and never look back. The more time I spend at that table, the more I begin to realize that what I have seen in those documents the twins have given me is true.
If that is real… what stops those photos of him raping underage girls from being true as well? As a reporter, I have always been taught to be unbiased. Not to form opinions of my own. Reporters are observers. Fact-checkers.
Shit… work. Why haven’t I thought of calling them?
Closing my bedroom door behind me, I drag out my cell phone and dial my boss, Lucas.
“Hello?” His voice rings through.
“Lucas, it’s Bailey.”
“Bailey!” There is surprise in tone. As if he had thought he wouldn’t be hearing from me. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” I tell him. “Look, I just want to check in. I know I have been MIA the past few days but…”
“MIA?” he asks. “What do you mean?”
“Umm… well, I haven’t checked in. I have been working on…”
“Checked in? Bailey, you put in your resignation last week, kiddo,” he tells me. “I know I’m getting old and senile, but that usually means you don’t have to check in.” He chuckles.
“My resignation?”
I have never submitted my resignation.
“Yeah,” he says. “You emailed it to me. Said you needed some time and that you didn’t think you’d be back.”
“I never…” A voice on his end interrupts me.
“Look, kid,” Lucas rushes. “You were a great reporter, but this isn’t meant for everyone. Anyway—” Another interruption. “I’ve got to go. Stay safe.”
Then the line goes dead.
What the hell has just happened? I toss the phone on my bed and make my way into the bathroom. Pulling the communication device from its hiding place, I place it in my ear.
“Hello?” I whisper, wondering if they are even listening. “Seamus? Kiernan?”
Nothing but dead air hangs around me for several moments and then…
“Bailey?” It is Liam, the twins’ father.
“Liam?” I breathe a sigh of relief. Just hearing his voice sets me at ease. Even if I am not his favorite person.
“You’re safe?” he asks. “You’re okay?”
I nod and then, remembering he cannot see me, I tell him I am.
“I haven’t been able to get the information yet,” I admit. Liam chuckles.
“You’ve only been there a few hours, Bailey. Even I don’t have that high of standards.”
I let out a breathy laugh, but it is tinged with unease.
“What’s wrong?” Concern bleeds into his voice.
“Everything,” I whisper, sliding onto the bathroom floor.
“Have you been hurt?” he demands.
“No,” I assure him. “Not… my father…”
“Ah,” he lets out a long, worn-out sigh. “I’m assuming you are beginning to see things you might not have before.”
“He’s always been strict,” I admit. “He’d have his men keep me in line when I stepped out of it, but today…”
“What do his men do, Bailey?” The sudden anger in his tone shocks me. Is he angry on my behalf? He shouldn’t be. My father always simply meted out the discipline I earned.
“They’d beat me,” I tell him candidly. “Starve me. Sometimes he would lock me in the cellar for a few days until I repented. It was my fault for not following the rules, but today he said some things and…”
“Let me make one thing clear, Bailey Jameson,” Liam growls. “What your father did is never okay, whether you did something wrong or not. Do you understand me?”
“But—” I go to argue.
“No buts,” he argues fiercely. “It is never okay to beat an innocent child or woman. Do you understand me?”
I swallow back the lump of emotion in my throat. “Yes,” I whisper.
“Good.”
“Where are the twins?” I ask before I dig further into what has already transpired today.
“Seamus went to meet with one of the bikers from the Iron Horsemen, and Kiernan is getting everything set up for the gala.”
The gala.
“I managed to convince my father to let me go to the gala,” I tell him. “Drew apparently wants to show me off since he’d never had the chance before.”
“That’s one less thing we have to worry about.”
I agree.
“I am hoping to be able to get into my father’s office tonight once everyone is asleep.”
“That’s good,” he says. “Just remember not to take any unnecessary risks.”
“I won’t,” I assure him. A pause hangs in the air between us. “Umm… can I ask you a favor?”
“Of course.” He sounds surprised that I asked.
“Could you track down a resignation letter for me?” I ask him.
“Whose?”
“Apparently mine,” I say. “When I called my boss to check in and apologize for being MIA, he said I had submitted my resignation last week, but I never did.”
“You sure?”
“Yes,” I assure him. “I was in Oregon last week, working on a cold case that had links back to one of the Capitol Hill murders. Plus, he said it was emailed, and I haven’t had access to my company email for over two weeks due to a security error.”
“Why would someone submit a resignation on your behalf?” he wonders. “Could it be your father?”
I shrug. “Maybe, but why wouldn’t he just tell me? I’d argue, but in the end, I would have no other recourse than to obey him. Otherwise…” He already knows what will happen. I have told him what my father does when I refuse to obey.
“I’m wondering if whoever tampered with your spark plugs is the same person who submitted your resignation.”
What?
“My spark plugs?”
Liam groans. “They didn’t tell you, did they?”
“Tell me what?”
“Shit.” Another groan. “The reason your car broke down in that parking lot is because one of your spark plugs was faulty.”
“That’s impossible,” I tell him, anxiety welling inside me like a hot-air balloon. “I just had my car serviced before I drove to Oregon.”
“I’m not sure what to tell you, Bailey,” he says. “But someone out there is trying to move you around like a piece on a chessboard. If I were you, I would watch your back.”
There is an eerie truth to Liam’s words.
I am being manipulated, and I doubt that these two incidents are isolated.
Whoever is doing this wants something from me, but what?
What does anyone have to gain from putting in a resignation letter on my behalf?
They must have known that sooner or later, I would find out about it.
Unless whoever did it didn’t plan on me being able to refute the letter.
I think back to what Liam says about my spark plugs. The mechanic at my local dealer changed them before I left for Oregon. The man is an old friend of mine, which likely means that it isn’t him. Carlos is too good a guy for that.
So somewhere on my journey to Oregon and back, someone switched one out. But when? And why?
If I were you, I’d watch your back.
Liam is right.
No one can be trusted.
Certainly not him.
Not even the twins.