“A little over a month ago.”
Agitation gets me and I lash out at him. “You knew he was in jail this whole time and never told me? What the fuck, Lachlan?”
“He didn’t want you to know. Said you two had some pretty harsh words before you moved back to Scotland from Chicago.”
“So explain how it goes from a dissolved friendship to him confiding in you from jail?”
“He needed my help. I gave him over a decade of my loyalty. Bad blood or not, he felt I was his last resort for confidentiality.”
“And you just gave it to him? That doesn’t add up, Lachlan.”
“Perhaps it was curiosity,” he defends. “I fucking despised your father and Camilla for what they had done right under my nose. So, imagine my shock when I find out he’s in jail and she’s left high and dry. Karma had done her job, but I wanted to bask in the wake of her achievement. I humored him and lent him the false comfort of an old friendship.”
“Baneful.”
“Which is why I didn’t tell you.”
“Because he’s my father?” He nods, and I lean back in my chair, clasping my hands in front of me. “He’s a piece of shit,” I lash out in hate. “He’s spent his whole life virulently criticizing my every move in this world.”
“He’s a narcissistic bastard, but I had been unaware of any discord between the two of you until he told me about the confrontation the two of you had after you’d been shot.”
“Our issues go way back,” I say. “That doesn’t explain why Camilla is calling you.”
“She thinks she can run back to me. She calls, sobs her pathetic story, and thinks I’ll take grace on her. She’s delusional.”
“And your loyalty?”
He leans forward with a leaden stare, stating adamantly, “My loyalty is with you and that girl in the next room.”
I then lean forward too, resting my forearms on the desk and brutally threaten, “It better be because if I find out otherwise, I promise you, your head will be the next one I put a bullet in.”
My words cause him no hesitation, not even a blink—a steady sign of his integrity. This man knows what I’m capable of—he’s seen it with his own eyes—so he’s fully aware of the repercussions if I find out there’s fault in his word.
THE SMELL OF the black pepper tenderloin Declan’s preparing fills the apartment, causing my belly to growl. The past few days I’ve struggled to eat and even sleep. I keep going over that manifest incessantly. Sometimes I think I’m going crazy, but I can’t stop myself. Declan practically had to force-feed me a sleeping pill last night just so I could get some rest. I was pissed and lashing out at him.
“Why aren’t you trying harder to find him?” I screamed as he fought to hold me down.
“I’m doing everything I can, but I don’t know what he’s hiding from or the threat we face when we do find him.”
He then pinned me to the couch and shoved the sleeping pill down my throat. In the process of gagging on it, I accidentally swallowed it. When he released my arms, I began swinging at him, irate that he would rob me of the time I could’ve used to get closer to finding my dad.
I woke this morning after allowing sleep to fuel my body with restored energy and a clear head and apologized to Declan. But the moment he left to go attend a meeting with the architecture firm, I was back at it, dissecting the manifest. It’s been five days since I received this list of passengers, and I’m no closer to finding a lead. What’s even more discouraging is the fact that both Lachlan and Declan are starting to feel like they’ve exhausted all avenues aside from traveling all over the States to knock on all one hundred and twenty-two doors. And as much as Declan affirms that he will find him, I don’t doubt that he would actually go to those lengths to do so.
While Declan is in the other room cooking, I take my time getting ready. As I’m applying a little gloss to my lips, I hear the buzzing of my cell phone. It catches me off guard since no one aside from Declan and Lachlan has the number. When I walk into the bedroom, I spot the phone on top of the dresser and pick it up.
UNKNOWN, reads across the screen.
“Hello?” I question curiously when I answer the call.
“Hey, kitty.”
His voice stuns me for a split second.
“Matt?”
“You miss me?”
God, he’s so skeevy.
“How did you get this number?” I bite on a quiet voice as I walk into the bathroom and close the door so Declan can’t hear.
“Everyone is traceable. Even you, my dear.”
“What do you want?” I snap irritably.
“That’s no way to greet an old friend.”
“Cut the shit, Matt.”
“Fine. I need your help.”
“Forget it.”
“Do I need to remind you of your place in this equation? You owe me.”
He’s right. I very well could be sitting in prison if he hadn’t covered up Pike’s murder for me, so I swallow back my hatred for his slimy ways. “What do you need?”