Chapter 2 #3
He intends to guide me gently towards the next cliff edge. Fine. Maybe I do need to take a breath before the fall, and it’s one that’s laced with an achingly familiar scent that’s connected me to the past for six long years.
“Belle inherited her father’s whiskey distillery,” I begin.
“She’d wanted him to invest in a rebrand to turn what was a high-quality liquor into a top shelf brand, but he’d resisted, relying instead on an aging customer base, and ultimately, a shrinking market.
I stepped in too late to help. We didn’t have enough capital at the time to cover the investment it needed, so I went to John McConkey.
We did a job for him, but when I came back…
the bank had foreclosed and the distillery was being asset-stripped. ”
Hunter’s shaking his head. He knows all of this. “That’s not what I meant, Ash. What do you know about the woman she became.”
“Not much. She was married within months of leaving Eastham Grove.”
“And?”
From the way Hunter holds himself tense, I know I’m dangerously close to that cliff edge. I can sense the chasm below. What else is there to say? I haven’t heard from Belle since that last text when my dad died.
“There’s nothing else. Belle got married, had a kid and…”
That’s when I see it – the shadow that flits across Hunter’s face is pure anguish. He’s carrying the pain that hasn’t hit me yet. My head snaps to Mace.
“Show me,” I hiss.
His eyes close briefly and his shoulders sag. Still holding the papers he’d collected up off the floor, there’s one at the ready, pinched between his finger and thumb. He places it in front of me. It’s a scanned photo of a little girl with rosy cheeks, a toothy grin and pigtails.
“Her name’s Piper,” Hunter says gently. “She’s just turned five.”
“I had bots crawling through a bunch of private DNA testing services,” Mace adds.
“It looks like Barrett had two samples tested for a familial link a while back. One was from Alice, and the other wasn’t named.
The results came back with a positive match, which I’m guessing told Barrett all he needed to know.
I took it a step further and compared the unidentified sample to your DNA. ”
I hold up my hand, silencing him before he can say it. And knowing Mace, he won’t be subtle. He doesn’t need to be. I knew the moment I looked at the photo. Piper has her mother’s nose. And my hazel eyes.
“She’s my daughter.”
I’m a father.
I’ve been a father for five fucking years.
I inhale and my chest expands, making room for emotions I’m not sure I can contain for much longer.
Belle ran away when she found out she was pregnant.
She ignored my calls.
I take another breath after a short exhale.
She kept this from me.
She kept my daughter from me.
Piper. Her name is Piper. She’s five years old.
And she’s my flesh and blood.
My lungs burn, but I take another breath.
And now Barrett-Fucking-Emerson has stolen them both.
I wish I was numb with shock, but there’s a burning rage rising up through my body, eviscerating what’s left of my self-control.
I’m going to end my half-brother’s life once and for all.
And as for Belle? I’d once considered walking away to protect her, but now?
Now, I want to ruin her for doing this to me.
“Unlock the door, Hunter,” I say, my tone low and menacing.
“I’m sorry, brother. But I can’t do that.”
“It’s not a request.”
He blinks once, his eyes sparking with determination. “I know what it is. And the answer’s still no.”
Bright sunlight disappears behind a blood-red veil as I’m consumed by a toxic mix of tortuous agony, blinding rage and burning desolation.
The roar that tears at my vocal cords drowns out all rational thought.
I’m aware of standing up, but I lose track of what my body does as my brain attempts to unscramble the emotions rampaging through me.
My temples throb with the rush of blood to my head.
Every muscle, every tendon in my body pulls taut and pain flares in my balled-up fists.
I hear crashes and thumps. Yells and pleas. I’m falling. Falling. Falling.
When my chest hits the floor, the weight of a body keeps me there.
Someone pins my arms to the rug, someone else sits on my legs.
I buck and curse beneath my brothers, and I don’t let up.
I keep fighting until I’m fighting for breath.
And all the while, I smell the spilled liquor.
Belle had been the first person to introduce me to the dark art of blending and aging whiskey.
I detect warm spice, vanilla, the unmistakable notes of charred oak barrels, and hints of that lost summer when it wasn’t only the love of whiskey I discovered.
I think back to Hunter’s opening remark when I’d asked who’d fucked up. I should never have let Belle go. I should never have stopped looking for her. This is all on me.
Slowly, my red-tinged vision starts to edge towards black. I’m on the verge of passing out when the pressure against my back eases. I take a full breath and release a sob.
“It’s OK, Ash,” Hunter says in my ear. “We’ve got you.”