My mother squeezes her eyes shut and then walks to me, handing me the gun. “If he comes in the door, shoot him.” And then she leaves, exiting the trailer. I run to the window and open it, listening, but they get into a car. I sit down with the gun and I wait only ten minutes. After that, I head to the door, and I plan to go get my mother any way I need to get her. Only she walks back in, looking flustered.
She takes the gun. “Let’s get ready for bed.” She starts to walk away and I grab her arm.
“Mom,” I plead.
“We’re good, honey. I’m going to get into that study, beat the cancer, and we’ll be just fine.”
I blink back to the present and remember my mother sleeping on the couch that night with the gun in her hand. She was ready to fight. She didn’t want to kill herself. She didn’t want to die. Richard was my father’s security person who died not long after that in a car accident, which I found out when I tried to confront him about what happened that night.
My phone buzzes with a text and I grab it to read a message from Blake: The computer system at the hospital was updated to read heart attack on your father’s chart. The early drug testing is clear. Only it wasn’t a heart attack. It was poison. Just like I doubt Richard really died from a car accident. I consider my mother’s suicide. That was real. She made that decision, but a Kingston might as well have been holding the gun. They did everything they could to keep me out of this family and ironically, I believe Gigi really did think that I was the only way to save it. She’s a fool. The only saving I’m going to do is of Harper.
I reach down and stroke her cheek. She blinks awake and catches my hand. “Eric.”
“Yeah, baby.”
“Any luck?”
“A few leads. It’s late.” I glance at my watch to read midnight. “Let’s go to bed.”
“Bed with you sounds pretty perfect,” she murmurs groggily.
“Good. Because bed with you is always perfect.” I scoop her up and start carrying her toward my room, our room now. The room we’re going to share in the kind of peace that comes only one way: with the end of the Kingston family. Because people in the Kingston world tend to end up dead, with suspicious circumstances that happen at just the right time to save the Kingston name. They took my mother. Harper almost ended up dead. They will not take her.
No matter what I have to do to protect her.
This game is not a game. It’s the end of times for the Kingstons and that’s how I’m going to approach the new day when it gets here. Like the end of times.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Eric
I sleep three hours and lay in the bed holding Harper for another hour, finding the numbers in my head easier to control when she’s with me. Almost as if she’s my Rubik’s cube, which I’m fairly certain would sound ridiculous to anyone but me. Or Harper. I don’t think it would be ridiculous to Harper. She seems to understand me in ways no one else, not even Grayson, has ever understood me. I inhale the sweet scent of her, motivation to solve the puzzle I can feel my mind on the verge of solving.
I grab my cellphone, read an hour-old text message from Blake: Isaac is not only in the city, he’s holed up in a room at the same hotel where your father was poisoned. Some people might be scared of that hotel. Not him. Interesting.
Interesting is right, I think. He’s stupid enough to think that staying at the hotel makes it look like he’s not guilty. He’s wrong. The police are going to see this just like I do. Isaac isn’t scared because he set-up that hit.
He wants the money and that tells me the will doesn’t include me. It never did, but why the fuck did he need to get rid of me, aside from fear that I’d take the company once it was his? No, he didn’t want me in Denver. He wasn’t a part of getting me there. He said I’d mess something up, piss someone off, and yes, that could have been the mob, most likely it was the mob. That means killing Harper, and setting Harper up was part of his plan, but me, I wasn’t. Maybe he didn’t expect me to come back for her at all. My mind starts swimming in all those possibilities, and I know I need to decode that first message.
By sunrise, I’ve showered and despite it being a work day, I dress in jeans and a shirt, simply because I’m not sure what Harper has in those bags Mia brought her. We’ll have to go shopping today. I exit the bedroom with Harper still completely knocked out. On one hand, I’m pleased that she feels safe here, but on the other, I worry that when she wakes, the adrenaline rush of her attack is going to hit her. Eventually, it will, and I want nothing more than to hold her and help her ride the wave to get through it. A luxury we can’t afford right now. Not with what feels like a ticking clock to a bomb about to go off. Not with Isaac here in New York City, but at least he’s a means to an end. The end of times.
I’ve just finished brewing a second pot of coffee when my cellphone rings with an unfamiliar number. I answer it on the first ring. “Eric Mitchell.”
“Mr. Mitchell. This is Detective Rider. I thought you’d like to know that your father had a heart attack.”
“I’m aware of the fact that my father had a heart attack.”
“I’m fairly certain that you, like myself, believed he was poisoned. Walker Security showed us the man on the security footage that entered your father’s room.”
“Did you find him?”
“No.”
“Was my father poisoned?” I press.
“You tell me. We’re waiting for additional testing. Perhaps we can chat today. Should I come to you? Because I can’t seem to find you at the hospital.”
“The same reason we don’t want my stepmother there. I want Harper where she can be protected. Until you find that man—”
“Who is the man?”
“You want me to do your job? Wait. Yes. You do. And I expected that, which is why I hired Walker Security. We’ll be by the hospital later today. You want to talk to me, find me when I get there.”
“Which will be when?”
“When I get there.” I hang up and dial Blake. “Do you know a Detective Rider?”
“I met that prick last night. He’s chasing a promotion and thinks taking down one of the Kingston family, considering the car empire, is his ticket.”
“Of course, he does,” I say dryly, right as there’s a knock on the door.
“That’s me,” Blake says. “And we have donuts.”
We probably means him and Savage, but I don’t ask when I can just find out.
I disconnect the call and open the door to have Blake and Savage, both in jeans like myself, greet me on the other side. Unfortunately, considering I’m trying to keep him from becoming a target, Grayson’s also with them, though his perfectly-fitted, gray pinstriped suit tells me he’s headed to the office. “Where the fuck are the donuts?” I ask.
Savage pulls a bag out from behind his back. “Donut holes because we’re dealing with so many assholes.” He laughs. “Get it?”
“You’re a fucking idiot, man,” I say, taking the bag from him. “And for the record, I like éclairs. They don’t come with holes.” I head to the kitchen. “Coffee’s on the house,” I say, motioning the men to the pot.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Blake says, walking in that direction with Savage joining him.
Grayson steps to the island across from me as I pop a donut hole in my mouth. “How’s Harper?”
“Sleeping and staying.”
“Staying. That’s good news. Did you tell her?”
“Yes,” Harper says, her voice floating down from above us at the railing. “He told me. And yes. I’m staying.”
I glance up as she heads down the stairs, dressed in a black skirt and an emerald green blouse paired with knee-high boots. “Glad to hear it,” Grayson says, rotating to greet her. “For how long?”
“She’s moving in with me,” I state, not giving her time to back out. “She’s not going back to Denver.” I watch Harper, waiting for her reaction.
She rounds the island and stops beside me, her arms wrapping around
me as she says. “No. I’m not going back to Denver.”
“No,” I reiterate, the heat between us palpable. “You’re not.” I stroke her cheek.
“What’s happening?” she asks softly. “Why is everyone here?”
“For the coffee,” Savage says, as he and Blake join us with cups in hand.
“Everyone has coffee but me,” Harper says, rolling with the punches. “I hope that and the donuts means this is a power breakfast that makes this all go away.” She moves to the coffee pot.
“We’re peeling away the layers,” Blake assures her.
“What layers?” I ask. “Get to the point. Did you find something in the documents I had you pull?”
“You’re not in the will,” Blake states. “I’m sending you the documents soon. As for anything that connects dots between you and your brother, I’ve got plenty of data, but nothing that stands out to me. You can let that mind of yours go to work.”
“Where’s Gigi right now?” Harper asks, stepping back to my side, coffee cup in hand.
Blake’s lips thin. “Gigi got off a plane in Europe and disappeared at a private airport, where she diverted to at the last minute. Unfortunately, we didn’t have a man in position at that airport. She’s sneaky and she’s gone, at least for the moment.”
“My God,” Harper says. “What are we into? What makes a woman her age run and hide with this kind of determination? She’s literally got to be afraid for her life.”
“Which makes sense,” Blake replies. “She must know what we know. Her son was poisoned. She must think she’s next.”
“Who inherits? Isaac?” Grayson asks before I can.
“The oldest living biological child,” Blake states.
I frown. “But it doesn’t state Isaac’s name?”
“Yes,” Blake says. “He’s named. The verbiage is likely an attorney-inserted basic clause, considering you’re years younger than Isaac.”
“Which leads to the question: is there another one of you?” Harper asks. “Is there another sibling?”
“Or,” Savage offers. “Did your father plan to kill off Isaac? I mean, he is a pain in the fucking ass and a pathetic representation of his bloodline.”
I press my hands to the island. What the hell is this family up to?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Eric
My cellphone rings before I can respond to the new information I’ve been given about the will and the numerous theories about who in the Kingston family is the bigger asshole. I grab my phone from the island to find Isaac’s number. I grimace, show the caller ID to the room full of people facing me and hit decline.
I lean across the island and look at Grayson. “You need to distance yourself from this. Get Mia out of town before he lashes out at me by going after you.”
“I’ll get Mia out of town, but I’m not leaving.”
“I’m begging you,” I say. “And I don’t fucking beg and you know it. Please—manners, another thing I don’t do—please, I repeat, do this for me. I can’t do what I need to do while I’m worried about you.”
“And what exactly is it that you think you need to do?”
“Whatever the situation calls for. You need to understand that one moment of hesitation could mean someone ends up dead. I can’t be in a position where I hesitate because of you. Where I frame words or actions to protect you.”
“Then let me take Harper with me.”
“No,” Harper says immediately. “I can’t go. My mother is involved in all of this. And they came at me. That makes me a target who doesn’t need to be by your side.”
“Take Mia out of here,” I repeat. “At least give me forty-eight hours, Grayson.”
“I’m not leaving, but we’ll lock down with protection.” He pushes off the island and looks at Blake. “Lock us down. Two days.” He glances at me. “But I want updates.”
Relief washes over me and I give a firm incline of my chin. “Done.” I eye Blake, who motions to Savage.
“At your service,” he says to Grayson. “Actually, Smith will be your man. I’m just going to escort you to him.”
Grayson gives me a quick piercing stare meant to be a command and then heads for the door. “Gigi knows what this is about,” Harper says, lowering her voice. “We have to get to her.”
“We will,” Blake assures us. “If we have to do it by way of the man who cornered you in the hospital, we will.”
“I believe Gigi’s the one sending me the messages,” I say. “I think Savage is wrong. My father isn’t trying to get rid of Isaac. Gigi wasn’t getting rid of me or Harper, either. I think Gigi really did want my help because she feared for her son’s life. She used Harper to get me involved. I believe, as was my first instinct after Harper’s attack, that Isaac is behind all of this.”
“What I can tell you right now,” Blake says, “is that I have proof that Isaac’s been meeting with Nicholas Marshall, the young, newly-minted prince of the mob, who’s known to have a long history with the unions.”
“Newly-minted, meaning what?” Harper asks.
“His father died,” Blake says. “He took over.” His eyes meet mine. “Sound familiar?”
“Isaac isn’t working alone,” I say. “He and Nicolas have a plan to rule the world together.”
“Exactly my thought,” Blake says. “And about that wording in your father’s will, I tried to pull your birth certificate and Isaac’s as well. I found yours and it reads as expected. Isaac’s is another story. It’s sealed, and there’s no online record. I’ve sent a man to get hard copies any way necessary.”
Harper turns to me. “What the heck is this?”
My mind is chasing the messages we’ve been given. “Good question,” I say, walking to the coffee table, grabbing the message I haven’t decoded, and staring down at it. I sit down and search for birth certificate numbers in the state of Colorado but this one doesn’t connect any dots there. The format and digits don’t add up.
My phone buzzes with a text message and I grab it to confirm that it’s from Isaac and as cordial as I’d expect from him: I’m at the hospital. Where the fuck are you?
Harper sits down next to me and I show her the message. “At least it’s a controlled environment,” she says. “No one can get hurt.”
I snort. “He doesn’t have a chance in hell of hurting me.”
“I was more worried about him,” she replies.
“I second that notion,” Blake interjects, joining us and clearly aware of what’s going on. “You and Isaac don’t need to be alone.” He eyes Harper and then me. “Not after her attack and I speak from experience. I lost a fiancée once. I lived for revenge for years of my life.”
This statement explains a lot to me. Why I’m comfortable with Blake. Why he doesn’t push back at places that would earn him a hard push out the door. I stand up and pull Harper with me. “Can you handle knowing what you know, and standing in front of him like you don’t?”
“You mean will I hurt him? You’ll be there to protect him, right?”
My lips quirk. God, I love this woman. I glance at Blake. “Can we have Savage to stand between us and him?”
“Maybe I better come along,” he says dryly. “Savage loves revenge a little too much, even someone else’s.”
“I’ll take Savage,” I say, sliding an arm around Harper. “Let’s go to the hospital.”
Blake nods and makes a call to alert his team. “Savage already handed off Grayson to Smith. He’s meeting us downstairs.”
Harper and I head for the door, and I help her pull on a jacket. “I’ll take you shopping today,” I promise softly while Blake takes a hint and steps outside.
“I’m not worried about shopping,” she says. “Though at some point we have to talk about my apartment and my things.”
“I’ll pay a mover to pack it up and ship it to us.”
She inhales and lets it out. “Yes. That’s—yes, okay.” She cuts her gaze.
I catch her chin. “What is it?�
��
“I’m excited about our new life, I am. It’s just—it’s daunting to realize that everything that was my life is gone. It’s like I spent years of my life building nothing.”
“We can sell this place. We can pick a place that you want. We can—”
“No. Eric, I love this place. I don’t want a new place. I love this apartment. I love you.”
“I want you to feel like it’s yours.”
“It will in time. This has all just been a whirlwind. A crazy whirlwind. I’m starting over. I need to start over. This is the right decision and a happy one, but I can’t revel in that until this storm has passed. I feel like the happiness is hiding in the clouds, right there, out of our reach. And a tornado is waiting to erupt and just destroy everything.”
Hiding in the clouds. Yes. “Hiding in the clouds, within our reach.” Numbers blast through my mind and I count out the digits in that first message, before my lips quirk. “You’re brilliant, baby.”
“I am?”
“Yes. You are.” I kiss her and open the door to find Blake waiting. “I know what the first message means.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Eric
At my announcement that I know what the message we had yet to decode means, I end up trapped at the front door of my apartment with Harper and Blake both staring at me. “What the hell does it mean?” Blake demands.
“Yes,” Harper says. “What does the message mean?”
“It’s a birth certificate number from Chicago, Illinois,” I say and text Blake the way that number breaks down. “I just sent you the exact certificate number.”
“And you know this how?” he asks.
“How I know is simply how my brain works,” I say. “There is no way to explain to you how I came to that conclusion, but I did. That’s a birth certificate from Chicago, Illinois.”
Blake stares at me as if I’ve grown three heads, but Harper—Harper just accepts what I’ve said and moves on. “Who was born in Chicago?” she asks. “Not you, right? Because I’ve heard Isaac talk about being born here.”
The Empire Page 6
