“I can’t do this,” I sniffle. “I don’t understand any of this and I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“Ask me questions. You’re always asking me shit. Do it now. Please,” he begs. “Do it now.”
The pain on his face is like salt in my wound because even though I’m hurting like hell, I hate that he’s hurting too. I can’t give in and hold him, try to make him smile until I’m sure I can smile too. And I know, in the pit in my stomach, that I may never smile again.
“What can I do? Please, baby. Tell me.”
“Don’t, Fenton.”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It wasn’t. I was supposed to explain it to you, break it down so you see what position I was in. That I fell madly in love with you way before I ever knew who you were or that you even had a brother. And by the time I realized it, I knew you’d want me to let you go and that felt . . . impossible.”
My tears dredge down my swollen cheeks and I watch him through blurred lenses.
“That’s the thing—I don’t know what it was or wasn’t supposed to be. I’m completely gobsmacked over here and I just feel . . .” I can barely see his face through the blinding tears. “I just feel so fucked over.”
“I didn’t fuck you over. I’d say circumstances fucked us over—both of us.”
“Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”
“What would you have done, Brynne? What if I would’ve told you that night in Vegas after your mom called and I started figuring it out what I suspected? What if I would’ve said, ‘Hey, Brynne. I think your brother worked for me. I think he’s the reason I haven’t slept all night in fucking months. I think it’s your brother that I’ve spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on to get back to your family. I’m pretty certain it’s your brother’s disappearance that’s made me turn my company inside fucking out to see what went wrong, what details we’ve missed, so I can do what’s right. What then, Brynne?”
“I would’ve called a cab.”
“Which is exactly why I couldn’t do that!” He paces a circle before standing to face me again. “I tried to walk away. I brought you home and told myself I was going to let you go and I’d come find you once we got Brady back.” He looks me straight in the eye. “Because we will get him back.”
“You can’t say that! He’s been over there for months and you haven’t managed to do anything!” I glare. “Senator Hyland says you know more than you’re telling us. Is that true?” I snort. “Hell, I probably can’t even believe you.”
He takes a couple of large steps and squats in front of me. I can barely breathe as his hands rest on my knees. “Brynne, trust me when I tell you this—I’ve told them everything that can help them get him back.”
“So there is more? You fucking asshole!”
“Listen to me,” he says, shaking my legs. “I’m doing everything I can, working every angle I can to get Brady home. I have some contacts in Zimbabwe, people my mother knew, people we’re related to, to try to get information on a street level. That’s why the chatter went up. I’ve been applying pressure, pushing to get whatever scrap of information I can.
“If I gave that information to the government, they’d go in guns blazing preemptively and my sources would be quiet. They could be killed for relaying information. Zimbabwe is . . . it’s not America, Brynne. Things don’t work there like they do here.”
“You have to trust the authorities! You have to tell them things so they can get him back!”
He gives an irritated laugh. “I’d rather trust someone that can do something about it. Someone that gives a fuck.”
“Someone like who? You?” I laugh, scowling.
“Yes. Like me. The authorities don’t give a shit. Your Senator is just looking to look nice in the media, to get some votes. Do you think he’s going to go out on a limb to get Brady?” He watches the tears run down my cheeks again. “Fuck. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Tell me this then,” I say, another realization slamming into me. “Grant worked for you too, then. Did you know him?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“How’s that possible?” I demand. “You’re telling me you didn’t know him?”
“I didn’t. Think back to the conversation where I told you about my job. I told you I have many companies under an umbrella. Nzou is the umbrella company. I run that. I have people that run Mandla, Grini, the restaurant companies. I don’t know every employee, Brynne. There are thousands of them. It’s just . . . an odd twist of fate.”
I grab a tissue off the table beside my bed and dry my face. Deciding whether to believe him or not is too big of a decision right now. So I choose to keep asking questions.
“Tell me the truth,” I say, raising my eyebrows in a challenge, “did Grant have something to do with Brady’s disappearance? What do you know that you aren’t telling anyone?”