I was torn.
Torn between staying and saving my daughter or racing to comfort my high school sweetheart. I had to steel myself against the onslaught of emotions and remember that love wasn’t part of the equation.
“I came home and found a note asking for money or Kennedy will die.”
“Fuck!” I banged my fist against the steering wheel, forgetting that Sheldon was on the phone.
“What’s going on?”
“Someone delivered a ransom note.”
A knock on my window interrupted whatever Quentin had been about to say. We both had our guns drawn quickly, but the driver’s car door was opened, and I was yanked out before I could pull the trigger.
CHAPTER TEN
KEENAN
“WHAT THE FUCK are you doing here, son?”
I brushed away my father’s—no, John’s hands and took a step back. “You seem to have selective memory. I’m not your son.”
“Have you always been this stupid or just today?”
“I don’t have time for this.” I turned back to the car, but he yanked me up by my shirt and slammed me against the side of the car.
“Then you make time, and for the record, you little shit, I don’t care what biology says. You’re my son. Question it again and I will kill you myself.”
I saw the truth in his eyes along with anger and the anguish even though I didn’t want to. “How did you find me?”
He had been missing for the last week and chose now of all times to show up.
“I found a kid in my home doing something that didn’t look the least bit legal. Do you know something about that?”
“He’s helping me find my kid.”
“What makes you think she’s here?”
“It’s the only place we haven’t looked.”
“You shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe.”
“It’s not the best time to start caring, Dad. If she’s in there, I need to get her.”
“How did you find this place?”
“Is it true?” I asked, ignoring his question. I knew he knew what I was asking. I wanted to know if his parents, my grandparents, had been living right here all this time. I’d never met them, and John had never spoken of them.
“It doesn’t matter. You have no business here. You don’t belong here.”
“You’ve got it partially right. I don’t belong anywhere.” I realized four years ago, but time changed a lot, and I eventually learned not to give a shit.
“Are we doing this?” Q asked, coming around the car. John kept his eyes on me.
“Yeah, we’re doing this.” The tension in his shoulders increased. “But not today.”
One thing I liked about Q was he didn’t ask questions.
We made the drive back in half the time when I sped all the way to Sheldon’s apartment. If there was now a ransom note, it could mean finding Kennedy safely rather than shooting blindly in the dark.
I didn’t care much for what would happen to me, but Kennedy didn’t deserve to die because of her mother and me.
“Where is it?” I asked as soon as I was through her apartment door.
Lake had her arms wrapped around a trembling Sheldon as they huddled on the couch. I made it a point to avoid looking in her eyes or going near her and not being able to comfort her.
It’s not that I couldn’t.
I just wouldn’t.
Lake seemed to pick up on my inner turmoil because she plucked the note from the floor where it lay by Sheldon’s feet and brought it to me. She quickly turned back to Sheldon but not before glaring.
I had the feeling she was beginning to think less of me these days—that is if she could think any less of me. In high school, I had made it a point to be her friend when it became obvious to me that she had nothing to do with framing my brother even when he refused to see it.
I shook off thoughts of another time that I no longer allowed to exist anymore, not even as a memory. It had all been a lie.
The notepaper crinkled in my hand reminding me of the present—
WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO DO FOR HER?
“It’s not Mitch’s handwriting,” Lake offered emotionlessly as soon as I was done reading. I turned the noted over, searching for more, but there was nothing else.
“How the hell is that possible?” I hadn’t realized I’d spoken the words aloud until I felt the rumble in my chest rise with each word. Mitch was the only person who made sense. If not Mitch, then who?
“I believe I know the answer to your question,” John said, stepping forward.
*
I had no time for this. After four hours, I was more impatient than ever. I was in a race against time and losing meant my daughter’s life.