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)
Friends. That word is hollow to me. I have no friends. My life has been this family and therefore it’s empty.
“The harder I push Grayson away,” Eric continues, “the closer he’ll step, which is why I need to see him now, today, and convince him all is well.” He glances over at me, “Your mother went to see Gigi tonight.”
The whiplash of the subject change and the content of that change jolts me. I twist around to face him. “And?”
“Adam was there at the time, pretending to check the gas lines. He said she was bitching about me, scared of what I might do. She was angry at Gigi for recruiting me.”
Confusion furrows my forehead, “Wait. Does that mean Gigi has been forthright with us?”
“There’s more.”
“Of course, there is,” I say. “What did he do?”
“She called my father right after your mother left. She didn’t talk to him, and still hasn’t, but the message she left sounded pretty damning to Adam. Like they’ve been planning something together.”
“I’d like to think they came together to save the company, but that doesn’t add up. He’s the reason she wanted you to help.”
“More like planning the end of us.”
It’s a bitter statement for a bitter action.
Eric’s phone rings and he snakes it from his pocket, glancing at the number and then me. “Adam.”
He answers the call, has a back-and-forth conversation I can’t make heads or tails of and then disconnects. “Your mother is at home in bed asleep,” he says, and his phone rings again. He answers with, “Blake,” and they settle into what feels like a non-eventful conversation, simply because I can’t figure out any of the details.
I settle against the soft leather of the seat, confused by this new development with Gigi. Something isn’t adding up. Thinking back, she absolutely told me his father had no idea she was asking Eric to come to Denver, or rather that I was asking Eric to come to Denver. Did she lie to me?
It’s not hard to believe she might have done that and more.
Eric disconnects his call and I jump on the chance to talk to him before he gets another. “Your father can’t know about the attack.”
“And you base this on what?”
“You’re his son. You were being set-up.”
“I’m his bastard son.”
“Your head always goes there, doesn’t it?”
“His sure does. That’s the point.”
I decide to ignore that statement and move on, “If he has knowledge or connection to my attack, make me understand why your father would come here and risk aligning himself with a murder plot.”
“He wouldn’t,” Eric says. “But he’s not here to help us, either. He’s here to serve himself. He’s here to protect himself.”
Or Isaac, I think. “And hurt us?” I ask.
“Yes. And to hurt us.”
I’d argue with him but he knows his father better than I do. In six years, I’ve never even shared a cup of coffee with that man alone. “Coming here makes him look guilty. Maybe that’s the idea. Maybe someone else baited him into coming here.”
“You’re reaching. Why are you protecting him?”
“He’s your father.”
Eric’s lips thin and he cuts his stare before he looks back at me, and his gaze has gone from hot to icy cold. “How have you been with this family this long and you don’t see how evil they are?”
“I know how evil they are. Whatever it is that you think is going on, just say it.”
“My father’s the kind of man who could easily sit next to us, sip a drink, and watch while we each take a bullet he paid to put in us, but it doesn’t stop there. He’d take one himself just to be sure he looks innocent. He’s that devious. It’s a mistake to assume he’s here to do anything but end us, which is exactly why I’ll end him first.”
“End him? What does that mean?”
He cuts his stare again, and I grab his arm, pulling him around to me. “What does that mean, Eric?”
Chapter fifty-five
Harper
“What does that mean?” I repeat, pressing him. “End him? End your father?”
Those blue, blue eyes of his, such intelligent eyes, meet mine. “As we said in the Navy: All in, all the time. It’s war. It’s us or them. Me or him. I have to be willing to do whatever it takes to make sure it’s me and us. I’m all in.”
“You’re avoiding a direct answer,” I accuse. “You want to end him how?”
He shackles my arm and pulls me to him. “I want this fucking family out of my life and yours,” he says, his voice low, rough. “And I want it to happen now.”
“I do, too, but the right way.”
“And what exactly is the right way, Harper? Do we let them kill me, but not you, or vice versa?” I shove against him and pull free, pointing at him. “Don’t be an asshole.”