44. Ford #2
“And when that didn’t happen, he took our trust funds. But did we listen then?” Hawke shakes his head. “So, he escalated again by calling Uncle Judge,” I continue.
“Which didn’t work either,” Roman interjects.
“So, he escalated again,” Jagger says, going through the same cycle I am internally when understanding sparks in his coal-black eyes. “He decided to make the threat more serious.”
“By pinning the fire on Morgan, even though he had nothing to do with it,” I announce.
“But why?” Hawke challenges. “Why go through all this trouble to keep us away from The Drift?”
I’ve never understood it. His obsession with keeping us as far away from The Drift as possible. He was the same way with Uncle Judge until shit blew up in Judge’s face and he left Harden Heights with his tail tucked between his legs, only returning when our father dragged him here.
“Maybe his dealings are more nefarious than we’ve given him credit for,” Jagger suggests.
Hawke scratches his jaw, considering it. “Maybe.”
“The question is, is it better or worse for everyone if we find proof?”
Jagger drags his fingers along the outside of his glass before picking it up and downing the entire contents in three quick pulls. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he growls, “Rome, how did Rafe come to this conclusion?”
“One of his contacts has a strong connection with Gus. He confirmed they had nothing to do with it.”
“What about Ethan?” Hawke suggests.
“Ethan’s alibi checks out. Rafe confirmed it.”
“So, it’s not just arson. It really is insurance fraud,” Jagger confirms, “which, like we’ve already covered, isn’t exactly good for the business we’re planning to take over.”
I swallow the bitter, lukewarm liquid back, desperate to dilute the truth, even if it’s only for a little while. “We’re fucked,” I announce.
Hawke shakes his head. “Or we’re golden.”
I scoff into my glass. “Yeah, okay.”
“What do you mean?” Jagger asks, ignoring me.
Rubbing the edge of his jaw, Hawke, explains, “We’ve been looking for an opportunity to get Tight Ass out of Mom’s business. This might be the perfect blackmail to make it happen.”
I hesitate, considering it. His warped but potentially crucial view of our predicament.
Could it work? Could we use this to dethrone our father?
It’s possible, but only if he was really arrogant enough to think we’d never figure it out.
Then again, he does have a habit of underestimating us.
If he has a backup plan or thinks we’re coming for him, he could let the entire company burn to the ground.
It wouldn’t surprise me. And neither would the opposite.
If he willingly stepped down as CEO to keep his checks deposited every two weeks.
“First, you need to confirm whether or not Titas paid Bryan,” Jagger decides.
“On it,” Hawke replies.
“And how long will that take?” I ask.
“Depends on how hard he tried to cover his tracks,” Hawke returns.
“In the meantime, keep an eye on your girls,” Roman suggests. “If your father’s capable of bribing someone to set your house on fire, I wouldn’t put anything past him at this point.”
“Speaking of our girls,” I murmur. “Any of you have an issue with me leaving town with June for the weekend?”
“Seriously?” Hawke groans. He drops his head back toward the ceiling. “Kind of think we need you here, man.”
“It was planned before I found out shit was hitting the fan,” I point out.
Stretching his legs beneath the table, Jagger asks, “Is this the thing you asked Violet to help you with?”
I nod.
“We’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone,” he answers.
“You sure?”
Jagger’s gaze drifts to Hawke, and he waits. I know why. I know what he’s doing. He’s giving Hawke the choice. The opportunity to not be a dick.
“One condition,” Hawke grumbles.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Tell us the truth. Do you love her?”
My jaw clicks. “Really? That’s how you want to play it?”
I shouldn’t be surprised. Hawke’s always been a bit of an ass.
He’d be a fool not to take advantage while he has the upper hand.
And if I’m being honest, if the roles were reversed, I’d be the same way.
We can fuck who we want to fuck, stalk who we want to stalk—yeah, I’m looking at you, Hawke—but if the feelings aren’t there, then why should any of us help the other person out?
But admitting it out loud? My feelings for June?
Is it too soon? Does it even matter? I don’t…
I don’t even know. I’ve never felt this way.
I’m not sure I’ll ever feel this way again. But love? Is that what this is?
“He’s not gonna agree to hold down the fort for a random hook up,” Roman explains.
“You’ve been staying at her place every night for weeks,” Jagger points out. “Vi says June even gave you a key.”
“And you’ve never been happier,” Roman adds. “In a dickish, Ford kind of way, but happier nonetheless—”
“Let him answer the question,” Hawke interrupts. “You either love her or you don’t.”
Is it that simple? That black and white? When I saw Jagger fall for Violet, I thought the man was an idiot. He couldn’t possibly love her. He couldn’t love anyone. But now, the roles are reversed, and I never thought crow would taste so sweet.
“Fine,” I grit out. “Yes, I love her, all right?”
“You love her?” Hawke pushes.
“Yes.” My nostrils flare. “Yes, I love her. Happy now?”
“Not exactly,” Hawke grumbles.
Roman steps forward, his hand raised palm up as Hawke digs into his pockets. Grudgingly, he gives Rome five benjamins, and my jaw drops.
“Assholes,” I point out. “All of you.”
“Hate the game, not the players,” Roman jests.
I show him my middle finger as he tucks the money into the front pocket of his jeans, not the least bit offended.
Of course, he isn’t. Why the hell do I put up with these guys, anyway?
“And yes,” Hawke adds, dryly. “We’ll keep you updated.”
I give him a snarky grin. “What a peach.”
“I try.”
“One more thing.” I glare at Roman, then motion to the empty glasses in front of us. “You’re covering my tab.”
With a bark of amusement, Roman returns, “Deal.”