by Sedona Venez
I ignored everything he’d just disclosed, except for one word. This?
Irritation colored my words. “What part of this”—I gestured between us—“didn’t the great Core McKay want?” I jammed my hands on my hips. “Because it seems to me like you’ve gotten everything you wanted. Your mother’s killer. My business. To fuck me… literally.”
What an arrogant asshole!
Every time he opened his mouth, I had to resist the urge to shank him… repeatedly.
“Sin, I won’t say that I’m sorry. I do what I have to do. That fucker took my damn mother away from me. Do you understand me?” he asked in a coarse voice. “Bigsby shot me and my mother…” His eyes looked haunted while his fists clenched and unclenched. “And he walked away like we didn’t mean a goddamn thing. What would you have done if he did that shit to you and to someone you loved? Walk away? Or make him answer for his crime?”
I swallowed hard. He had me there. Memories marred my mind. Dad’s senseless death had destroyed me emotionally and burned me to the core. It’d changed me in ways I didn’t even really understand until recently. Even years later, with his murder unsolved, it burned me that someone had gotten away with murder.
I turned my back on Core when I felt a tear—from anger—roll down my cheek.
Looking out on the cityscape, I rubbed my damp cheek on my shoulder. “You think I don’t want retribution for my dad’s death? But at what cost?” I shook my head. “Using you to get what I want? Manipulating you? Fucking you? I’m not that type of woman. I’ve never done shit in my life that made me question my morals—whether you believe it or not.” My lower lip trembled. “I have a code of honor, and I tell the straight-up truth. I’m simple. Transparent. Real.”
“And where the fuck has that gotten you?” he lectured in a low, even voice.
I shot a glare at him over my shoulder. There was a quick flicker of emotions—anger, then regret, to confusion, and then back to neutrality—in his eyes.
Is Core so blinded by his need for revenge that he didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone? Including me?
Jerking my eyes away, I stared at the bustling city below. With a voice deliberately devoid of any emotions, just matter-of-fact, I replied, “At least I can look at myself in the damn mirror and know that I haven’t backstabbed my way to the top. And if that shit makes me naive in your eyes, well, fuck you and the horse you rode in on.”
“Well, in my world, it doesn’t work that way,” he retorted, his voice cold, hard. “Watching my mother getting killed changed me.”
I felt rather than heard him come up behind me. A tsunami of energy swirled along my hypersensitive nerves.
Core pressed his body to my back.
“Core. Don’t.” I stiffened, clutching the railing for dear life, trying hard to ignore how comforting the heat emanating from his body felt pressed against mine.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
I swallowed hard.
Focus on the matter at hand. I scolded myself, but I had a hard time redirecting. I was so pissed off with myself that he still affected me this way. Don’t fold, Sin.
“Sin.” He pressed his hands over mine. They were so much bigger and darker than my slender, feminine ones that trembled underneath. “I will not apologize for what I am.”
“I never asked you to,” I mumbled.
“No. What you’re doing is even worse. You’re condemning me for being broken and, yes, fucked up in the head,” he replied hoarsely. “But I am the product of my environment. Seeing what I saw and living through what I lived through… those things aren’t easily forgotten.” He paused. “Waking up in the middle of the night to sounds of people being gunned down. Coming home from school and witnessing single mothers giving blow jobs in alleyways so they could pay rent and put food on the table…”
I calmed a bit as I listened to him. The horrible sense of rage faded slightly.
“Sin, the things I’ve seen either break you or make you. I chose the latter.”
“Core, you don’t understand.”
“Please… make me understand then.” He lowered his head on top of mine.
After a few moments of uncomfortable silence that were riddled with distrust and tension, I asked, “How can I trust you anymore?”
“Sin, you never did.” His breath puffed the delicate hairs at my temple.
I pulled one hand out from under his.
I bit my bottom lip and remained silent. He was right. I never did trust him—and with good reason. He had done everything that I’d feared a man would do if I ever lowered my defenses and let him in—hurt and betray me.
“What? Did you think that I didn’t know? That I couldn’t feel you were ready to bolt from us, from me, like some nervous rabbit? You had one damn foot in and one foot out of my bed.”
I frowned. “I’m not good at trusting men. And everything you’ve done just proves why I never let my guard down. You manipulated me to get what you wanted, with no damn consideration for my feelings or how it would affect me.”
“We both didn’t trust each other,” Core answered in a deep, velvety voice. “And without trust, there’s only fear.” He turned me around to face him.
I studied him as he studied me.
He carried on. “I trust you now, Sin. Despite the things I’ve done, given time, don’t you think you can come to trust me?”
I rolled my eyes skyward. “Are you kidding me right now? Of course I can’t trust your ass! Not after all the lies you told me.”
“Not once did I lie to you.”
I arched a brow. “Oh, really? Then what would you call it?”
“I omitted information, but I didn’t lie.”
I sputtered, “Don’t play word games with me, Core. The way you manipulated me—your lies of omission—was infinitely worse. I can’t forgive you for that shit.”
Core angled his head and watched me. “Putting all my cards on the table, it did start out as me using you and your company to get to Bigsby. But it all changed when I got to know the real woman that you are. You became more than business; you became someone I needed in my life. And you can call bullshit on this if you want, but in my world, the less you know, the safer you are.”
I stiffened. “Safe from what?”
He intensely watched me for a few moments. “You’re going to need to sit down for this, Sin.”
“No. I’m good. Just tell me,” I declared with quiet resolve.
He furrowed his brows as he continued to stare at me. He slightly tilted his head, and then his frown deepened. “Kevin’s investigation into your family background unearthed that you have two birth certificates, each one showing a different set of parents.”
I sucked in a sharp breath and held it for a moment before releasing it. “What are you talking about?” I croaked.
“The first birth certificate had your father listed as Ian Michaels and mother as Grace Michaels. The second certificate had your father listed as Greer Lorne Cruickshank and mother as Aubrey Cruickshank.”
“What?” My knees buckled.
Core caught me and escorted me back to the chair. I plopped down, feeling light-headed.
“I don’t understand. Ian Michaels is my dad.”
“Sin, no… he’s not.”
With those four words, my world shattered, along with everything I’d ever thought I knew.
MY APPETITE HAD VANISHED AFTER hearing Core’s earth-shattering revelation, so the waiter and server cleared the table of food and plates. Core had also instructed them that we no longer needed their services for the rest of the night.
I sat stiffly in the chair on the rooftop as the Manhattan air chilled me, staring at Core in disbelief. “Let me get this straight. My supposed parents, Greer and Aubrey, started having an affair behind Bigsby’s back and then cut business ties with Bigsby?”
“Yes,” Core replied.
“And Bigsby got so pissed,” I started after moments of uncomfortable silence, “that he killed Greer in an
apartment fire. But Greer gave his brother, Ian, the ledger just in case something went wrong?”
“Exactly.”
Tilting my head in quiet consideration, I studied him. “And Jemma, whom you suspect is my real mother, disappeared while on bail after Bigsby snitched her out to the Feds?”
“I know this shit sounds crazy, but it’s true.” He spoke in a soothing tone.
I bit my bottom lip, examining him for a beat. “And during all this drama, Bigsby had no clue that Jemma was pregnant with me—until now?”
“Also true,” Core answered.
I eyed him like he’d lost his fucking mind. “So Ian is not my father. He’s my uncle and Greer’s brother?”
Core nodded.
“Oh God,” I whispered. I felt like I was about to hurl. My emotions were churning from anger to confusion to dread and back to anger. “My whole life is one big lie.”
Dad is not my biological father?
He’s really my uncle who loved and raised me as his own?
Part of me wanted to reject everything Core had just told me, and the other part… wholeheartedly believed him because this was the answer to the question I’d been asking myself for years.
Why didn’t I look anything like Dad or Grace?
Because I was not their biological child.
I stared into space while images of my dad flashed through my mind. He had been the doting dad who took me to zoos, aquariums, and planetariums, and I always marveled at how fortunate I was to have a parent who loved me unconditionally.
But now those memories were complicated by this extraordinary drama that was unfolding.
Once again, Core spoke in a simple, even tone. “Sin, I have information to verify everything I just told you.”
Jerking my eyes away, I stood and began to pace the terrace, aware he was watching me.
I stopped and stared at him. “But if Bigsby killed all of them—Greer, your mother, and Ian—isn’t it plausible that he killed Jemma, too?”
He pushed up to his feet, striding over, and stood just inches from me. “Bigsby is a psycho, so if he killed her, I’m sure he would have bragged about that, too, on Jeff’s recording. But as far as I know, he’s still looking for her.”
Sex trafficking.
A Manhattan madam who is also my mother.
Greer is my real father.
What. The. Fuck?
But the crazy thing was Core’s story did make part of my life make a hell of a lot more sense—like how much Grace disliked me, especially after Dad’s death. Grace was probably pissed that she was stuck with me… still having to pretend to be my mother. Given how self-centered and selfish she was, having me around as a constant reminder that I wasn’t her biological child probably sucked big time—especially in light of the fact that she didn’t have a damn maternal bone in her body.
I stiffened when I recalled an argument between Dad and Grace years ago that I’d buried. It was one of their vicious spats that took place on Thanksgiving. My mind traced back to the memories of that fateful day.
Grace was in the midst of one of her infamous tirades, and Dad hissed, “Shut up, Grace. She can hear you.”
And Grace shouted back, “I don’t care because I’ve never wanted her. She’s not mine.”
Yes, her words had cut like a knife, and I had cried hysterically because of them, but I’d thought Grace had said them to hurt me and Dad—not because what she’d stated was actually the truth. Now I knew that all of her actions and barbed words were because she resented the fuck out of me since I wasn’t her child.
“Bullshit! This doesn’t make any sense. There’s no way someone with Bigsby’s past can run for mayor of New York, much less attract a socialite like Cate.”
He studied me for a few minutes. “What past?” he requested in a low, rigid voice. “Do you know how hard it was for me just to get this much information on him?”
Three deaths—possibly four, including Jemma. All orchestrated by one man—Bigsby. I wasn’t sure which feeling was more overwhelming—anger, frustration, or rage.
I paced back and forth, still trying to make sense of it all. “I believe everything you revealed about Bigsby being involved in an escort service. Ariana—Cate’s sister—hired a private detective, who dug up information about some trafficking ring Bigsby’s involved in. According to Ariana, the Feds are close to nabbing him for money laundering.” I skidded to a stop, glaring at Core. “But what I don’t understand is why Bigsby would pay someone to kill my dad.”
“Which one?”
The headache from stress had been just a minor ache earlier; now it was raging. “Ian. Despite what you’ve told me, I’ll always consider him to be my dad.”
Maybe he wasn’t my biological father, but he’d raised and loved me. That shit counted for something… my loyalty and devotion to his memory and all that he had given me unconditionally.
Core replied, “Ian had incriminating evidence about Bigsby’s sordid past. A ledger—essentially the escort service’s little black book.”
“That’s why Dad hid it in the trunk.” I swallowed several times and then sucked in a slow breath that didn’t help.
“How did you even find it?” he asked.
“The night of Bigsby’s fundraising gala, I was looking for an heirloom piece of jewelry that I’d stowed inside my dad’s old trunk. When I was digging inside, I saw red leather peeking out of the broken bottom, so I tried to yank it out. But when I hit the bottom, a secret compartment shifted, completely revealing the leather ledger.”
“Didn’t you think it was strange that Ian had put it there?” Core’s lips pulled into a straight line.
After a long moment of consideration, I confided, “Yes. But when I looked through the ledger, nothing in it made any sense to me. There were several pages of names, and I knew it wasn’t my dad’s handwriting. And there were the initials G.L.C. scrawled in red ink at the bottom of every page.”
Core interjected, “G.L.C. Greer Lorne Cruickshank. Your biological father.”
“I knew there had to be a good reason my dad had hidden it because he was the most transparent person I knew.” I paused. “But it’s obvious now that he had a whole lot of damn secrets.” And the unveiling had turned my reality upside down, forcing me to question every core thing I’d ever believed to be true. Now I was struggling to come to terms with all these shades of gray. I needed to make sense of them and hopefully achieve some sort of peace with them.
“So what did you do after you found the ledger?” Core asked.
I shrugged. “I pushed the journal back into the false bottom, banged the base back into place, and then dumped everything I’d pulled out back on top of it, promising myself to further investigate the ledger over the weekend. I just never had a chance to—”
“Sin, that ledger documented all of the clients who frequented your parents’ and Bigsby’s escort service. Those clients are rich, powerful people whose lives would be destroyed if that information got out. It’s leverage Bigsby can use to blackmail people to do anything he wants. Greer knew that, and it’s probably why he gave it to Ian for safekeeping. The ironic part about all of this is that Bigsby thought the ledger had burned along with Greer. Ian probably knew if Bigsby found out that he had the ledger, Bigsby would kill him to get it back.”
“That’s why my dad kept us moving from state to state like we did.” I gasped. “We never settled anywhere for too long until… right before his death. I remember being so happy that we were staying in New York permanently, and then out of the blue, my dad decided he wanted to move again.” I bit my bottom lip. “Core, shit, that ledger was stolen during the break-in.” I froze with my eyes wide. “Wait. Did that fucker Bigsby steal it?”
My body shook with rage at the violation of my space… and my home and, worse, at the destruction of my clothing line that I’d spent months creating—all because of a ledger. And if Bigsby had wrecked my house just to get his hands on it, was my life now in danger since I’
d had the ledger?
Fear weighed heavy on me as I considered the possibility of Bigsby coming back to my townhouse when I was home alone to tie up loose ends—me. Adrenaline and fear didn’t mix well, and the combination was coursing through me, making me anxious and jumpy.
“Core”—the tension and fear were there, tightly bound around me like a cocoon—“did Bigsby break into my house just to steal the ledger?” I worked hard to control my breathing, steady my heart rate, and temper my fear.
He scowled, and his voice dropped to a rumble. “He ordered Jeff, his little minion, to break in and steal the ledger.”
Fury chased the fear away. “But why did Jeff have to destroy my clothing line?” I asked through clenched teeth. “Was he trying to send me, or maybe you, a message?” Bitterness burned in my belly. It all felt like a blanket that wrapped around me too tightly.
“Sin, I don’t know who destroyed your house. But what I’m sure of is Jeff didn’t do that damage. He told me that he stole the ledger, but he didn’t do all that shit to your house.”
“And you actually believe a word that fucker said?” I arched a brow.
I was still trying to make sense of it all when a horrible thought raced through my head. If Jeff didn’t destroy my house, who did?
“Yes, I do,” he growled. “Believe me. With the shit we put him through last night and today, it wasn’t in his best interest to lie to us. Trust me. No one can withstand—” Core stopped, jaw clenched, and shook his head as if clearing away whatever he’d been about to say.
“Torture?” I squeaked.
My thoughts flashed back to Core’s telephone conversation yesterday morning and his statements about “ice for hours” and “softening him up.”
“Exactly what type of criminal shit are you into, Core?”
When he finally spoke, he carefully chose his words. “Not something you need to know about. We got the answers we needed about Bigsby via the recording that Jeff had secretly made.”
“What happened to suddenly put Da—Ian on Bigsby’s radar?”
“Ian’s greedy-ass wife.”
