Total pages in book: 211
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1008(@200wpm)___ 806(@250wpm)___ 672(@300wpm)
He shifts and the recliner lifts.
A few minutes later, we end up at a half-moon-shaped booth. I slide into the seat and he walks away to grab a briefcase. It’s then that I jolt with realization. “I have nothing with me,” I say as Eric joins me. “And I’m not talking about clothes. My phone and computer and all my work. Eric, anything I’d researched and found they’ll find. Whoever they are—Isaac, I assume.”
“Isaac’s involved,” he confirms, sitting down next to me. “Of that, there’s no doubt, but I’m guessing my father is as well.” He scoots close to me and removes a MacBook from the briefcase. “I left my things in my rental as well. This is Walker equipment. They wanted us to have a way to communicate with them on the ground.” He keys up the screen.
The MacBook beeps with a message and then messages explode with back-to-back beeps. Eric scans the messages and I’m suddenly alarmed. We’re in the air. My mother is on the ground. What if something goes wrong?
“What’s happening?” I ask, scooting closer and trying to see over his shoulder. “Is everyone safe?”
“Yes,” he says, typing a reply before he glances at me. “My father and Isaac showed up at the warehouse and apparently had a blow up in front of the building.”
“Because I’m still alive? Or because your father found out Isaac tried to kill me and went nuts?”
He stops mid-sentence of whatever he’s typing and focuses on me. “Maybe the latter. I don’t know.” He stops there, but his expression says there’s more, it’s ripe in the air.
“What do you and Blake think?”
“Undecided. The Isaac thing could have been meant to get me out of the picture before your attack and I don’t like how that reads.”
“Meaning?”
“They wanted to end you, and they knew I wouldn’t let that happen.”
“So you had to hate me enough to leave and not care anymore.”
“Yes, but they had to worry that if you ended up dead, I’d come back for revenge. Then again, I let them get away with hurting my mother.” He cuts his stare.
“You were a kid and you followed her wishes.”
He narrows his eyes on me. “What are your wishes, Harper? What do you want to happen to the Kingston family?”
It feels like a test, but I don’t even know on what subject. “I don’t want to hurt anybody, but I don’t want them to be able to hurt anybody either.”
He rotates to face me fully. “I’m going to do what I promised to do and ask you a question before I assume the answer. I ask. You answer. Don’t hold back. Be one hundred percent honest no matter the consequences.”
Unease slides through me and I bristle. “Because you have to say that or I’ll lie? I told you my secret and it meant carving myself inside out to do it.”
“What else, Harper?”
He can’t mean my knowledge of his past. That’s not this. There’d be no way that was possible. It’s not a secret. It’s just knowledge. And I’ll have to have a gun to my head to willingly hurt him with that information. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His jaw tics. “Why did Kingston wire large sums of money into an account in your name that you later closed?”
Suddenly, I feel as if the floor of the plane is opening up and sucking me into the turbulence.
Chapter fifty
Harper
My hand is at my throat as I turn away from Eric, trying to calm down. “That didn’t happen.”
He slides his MacBook in front of me. “What is this? Look at it,” he orders.
I draw in a breath and focus on the screen, on a bank account in my name, that is now closed. Worse, there are several large wire transfers into the account. I’m trembling with adrenaline and fear, as I twist away from Eric, trying to calm down. He catches my arm and turns me to face him.
“Talk to me, Harper. Be honest, no matter how bad it is.”
My gaze rockets to his. “Be honest? That again. And again. And again. Stop calling me a liar.”
“I am not calling you a liar”.
“Semantics. Be honest. Don’t lie. Same thing as calling me a liar. So here’s my ‘not a lie’ explanation. I have two bank accounts. Checking and savings. I’ve had the savings since I was ten. I’ve had the checking since I moved to Denver years ago. I don’t have, nor have I ever had any account that received wires.”
“That bank account says differently.”
My hands are shaking harder now with his accusations, and I positively hate him right now. I jerk my arm from his grip. “I need a bathroom.” I don’t wait for approval or direction.
I scoot out of the booth and hurry down the small walkway toward what I think is my destination. When I find the small alcove, I grab the door there and enter a space that is as compact as most airlines, despite this being a private plane. I shut the door and I do what anyone would in here. I go to the bathroom. I wash my hands. I act like normal activity will make this go away right up until the point that the normal activity is over. Now I’m just standing in a tiny space, staring at myself in the mirror. How have I given this much of myself to this family to end up here?