Chapter 6
Chapter Six
JAXON/JAX
Now
Glass Alibis seven pages I’ve read four times since getting home, each pass pulling a different thread. Greg’s voice lives underneath every line.
Take care of this, Jaxon. You’re the only one who can. He gave the command as men such as Greg Hemings do when they realize their demands have an irreversible cost. He wasn’t wrong.
I sit back and press two fingers against the bridge of my nose. “Every time I reach the third page, the same question surfaces and refuses to be dismissed with logic or scotch.”
Axel shifts something over his speaker. “What would that be?”
“Edward Thorne.”
“Yeah, what about him?”
“I’ve backed his pharmaceutical research for years. His lab and his clinical trials. His entire infrastructure of credibility runs on capital I provided when no one else would take the gamble.”
“Why?”
“I believed in the science and in the man. I did extensive due diligence on Edward Thorne before I ever wired him a dollar. Nothing in four separate background investigations suggested the kind of connections this photo implies.”
“Oh, you mean the one with Leon Baker.”
“Yes.”
An alert dings through the phone. “Sir, I have more information coming in. Let me get the details and call you back.”
“Unless it’s crucial, call tomorrow.” I’m in no mood to discuss this case when I can’t put together their motive.
“Consider it done, sir.” His line drops, and I’m left alone. Again.
I close the laptop and press the heels of my palms against the edge of the desk. Leon and Edward in the same frame is not a coincidence. Men like Leon Baker don’t appear in photographs by accident.
He’s surgical about who he interacts with, about who he stands next to and when, and about what gets documented and what disappears. He’s not to be messed with.
I’ve known of Leon Baker by reputation for a few years, but I’ve never had a desire to research him. And I know asking Cash about him is sure to raise his defenses. My conversation with him in Paris is proof of that.
The question I can’t move past is why. Why would Edward and Leon be in a picture in front of the pharmaceutical lab with Zara at his side?
And Zara, barely a teenager in that picture, was already being positioned inside something she shouldn’t have been anywhere near. That much I know based on my gut, and it never lies. There’s a reason they’re all together, but what could that be?
My glass of Macallan sits untouched near my computer. That’s enough to make me pick it up and slam it back. Relief in a Waterford rocks glass.
Classy, Jaxon. At least I have that.
I take the empty crystal and mosey to the kitchen to get a refill. The lights are dim, and I catch myself peeking out the window in the direction of Livianna’s house.
She thinks she was in an accident. She doesn’t know that the crash was deliberate and that the people behind it were following her. They had to have a specific intention.
How could I ever tell her that the man I’ve financed for over a decade may be threaded throughout one of the worst moments of her life?
She doesn’t know any of it, and every day I keep it from her is a day I tell myself I’m protecting her. I’m questioning who I’m actually protecting.
The water from the kitchen faucet runs cold over my hands when my phone vibrates on the marble counter. Livianna’s name on the screen stops me mid-motion.
I dry my hands and bring up the phone. “Livianna. Is everything okay?”
“Hi, Jaxon. And yes, everything is fine.” There’s a beat of silence. “I’m sorry to call after hours.”
“You’re not bothering me.” I lean against the counter.
“Good, because I owe you an apology.” The words come out measured but genuine. “I was short with you tonight, and it was rude.”
“You don’t need to apologize.”
“I do.” A low hum registers beneath her voice. She’s in a car. “Overwhelm isn’t an excuse for being dismissive, but that’s what I was. Jaxon, I took it out on you, and that wasn’t fair.”
“I appreciate you saying so.” I pick up my glass from the counter. “Is there a reason for it, or is it residual from the day?”
She hesitates. Three seconds that tell me more than any answer would. She’s confused about something, but what?
“It’s a lot of things.” Her voice stays even but tightens beneath the surface. “Today was just...a lot of things at once.”
She sounds upset about something, and it has the hairs on the back of my neck standing at attention. She was in a state similar to this when she was hit by that damn SUV.
“Livianna, where are you right now?”
“Driving.”
“Where?”
Another pause, and then she speaks.
“I have dinner plans. Nothing you’d be interested in.” She offers it lightly, but I know her well enough to understand it’s a door she’s choosing to keep shut.
I won’t force it. That’s not how I operate.
“Please drive carefully.” I cross toward the window. “The canyon roads have poor visibility at this time of night.”
She laughs. “I know the roads, Jaxon.”
“I know you do.”
Her quiet exhale drifts through the line. Did she expect an agreement? Most people in her world meet her defiance with a countermove. I never have, not once, and she used to know why.