by Maggie Thom
Squaring her shoulders, she stepped forward ready for the evitable battle of wills.
“Hello, Dad.”
His head swiveled so fast it brought to mind the iconic head spinning scene in The Exorcist when Regan was possessed by a demon. For whatever reasons, he had always been engrossed and mesmerized by the gruesome scene.
“Tarin. What a surprise.”
“It is, isn’t it? We need to talk.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m busy.”
“I know. I’m willing to have our father-daughter chat right here. I don’t have anything to hide but I think you do.” She’d always thought of him as a giant, so it surprised her to realize that she only had to look up slightly into his blue-gray eyes.
“I’ll arrange a more private setting.”
She watched as he made his excuses to titans whose opinions mattered to him. Then he found his sidekick Cal, whose expression was pure hate which he turned her way. If he could spit daggers through his suspiciously narrowed eyes, she was sure she’d just been attacked. She glanced around to see if anyone else saw it but no one else appeared to have noticed. When she turned back, he had a neutral expression pasted on. Her father finally returned and gestured for her to come with him.
She’d been reluctant to follow him into the elevator and up to a suite permanently designated for his use, but she did. And at some point, the anxiety she experienced wasn’t because she feared him. That fear had been present for a good part of her life, but now she knew their relationship would change forever and it was highly unlikely to be a positive outcome.
He stared out the window for a moment before turning to her.
“So you think you can take off and then come crawling back when things aren’t good? You want me to fix your mess?”
The muscles in her back instantly tightened to the point of cramping. She felt like a little girl again, accidentally soiling her panties because he’d taken too long to get her to the bathroom. Of course he’d claimed it hadn’t been his fault because he’d never admit any weakness, whereas in his eyes, she was one long series of faults. At that moment, she saw his tactic for what it was, to put her on the defensive. He had almost succeeded. Almost.
“Did you try to have me killed?”
“Always the drama queen, weren’t you?” He sat, crossing his legs while he scrutinized her with disdain.
“Who’s my mother?”
He sighed. “She died—”
“Bullshit.” She wasn’t sure who was more surprised. An insistent buzzing began in the back of her brain; her mind was on overload.
“And I have a half-sister. When did you plan to tell me about her? Or was it meant to be a deathbed confession?”
His permanent tan appeared to have lost a bit of its color. But he still said nothing. It was the only time she ever remembered him speechless.
Sickened by all she’d learned, she relished the newfound feeling of having bested him, and she realized she had gone there for precisely that reason. She wanted to knock him off his pedestal. She had no doubt he’d rally back and volley a ton of accusations and hurtful insults out of proportion to her assertions. But she wouldn’t remain for any of it. She glowered at the man she was quite sure she’d never lay eyes on again.
“What makes me feel particularly sorry for you is you’ll never get to know your grandson. He’s amazing.” She turned to leave.
“What do you mean grandson’?” Her father stood as the remaining color drained from his face.
“Oh please. I know you have Calvin spy on every last detail. I’m quite sure he knows about this one.”
“How old?”
She frowned. What game is he playing? His stunned expression looked so authentic. And although he was a consummate actor forever playing to the crowd, she had the impression he wasn’t pretending.
“Two. And if you have someone attempt to abduct him again, I’ll air your dirty laundry in every news outlet in the world. I doubt you or your business could survive that. And last but not least, stay away from Caspian Winery or I swear I’ll go to the police. I’m sure they can dig up something to charge you with. I’ll give them a lot to search for.”
Though her legs were trembling so badly she wasn’t confident they’d carry her out, she managed to make her way to the elevator at the end of the hallway. She tried not to think about all that she had said until she could process it alone, away from his scrutiny. One thing, however, stood out clearly; she was convinced he was more affected by the threat to his hotel chain than anything she’d shared about herself.
As quickly as the doors opened, she stepped in and hastily pressed the lobby button. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the wall.
“So, Tarin, I see you’re still trying to make my life difficult.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
All the debris had been removed, and the burnt trees chopped down but there was no hiding the huge crater left by the explosion. Ironically one wall of the old house still stood. Graham’s thoughts returned to that time, an urgent push to arrive in time to save Bailey, pulling her out of the house before Geoff blew it sky high.
How could he have survived that? And who else would have done the same thing to Dorothea’s house?
Graham and Guy had been searching for some time for an escape route, checking for any depressions that might lead to an underground tunnel. They had dug about fifteen holes in attempts to uncover a shaft. Graham tossed a shovelful to the side before jabbing the blade in the ground and leaning on the handle grip. Guy was still working away like a demon after his quarry.
“Good job ‘ol boy.”
Guy swore before chucking a mound of dirt at him. Graham grinned as he dodged it. Guy copied his stance.
“Who said you could stop? Get crackin’ man, we have work to do.”
Guy grimaced before glancing around the area. “Come over here.”
Graham made his way over to him.
“Okay. So, assume you’re Geoff—”
“That would be a stretch.”
They both peered at the remaining wall. There wasn’t much to look at. Geoff had cunningly built a fortified house inside of an existing ramshackle structure. Graham hadn’t paid much attention to the remnants of the wall emerging from the ground. He moved toward it. It was blackened and charred. With his shovel, he whacked it in a few places, Guy following suit. It was when Guy reached the bottom left-hand corner that they heard a distinct hollow tone. Using their shovels, they pried away at the wall. When the sturdy bricks would not give, they dug down a few feet. And there buried underneath it all was a latch. As Guy reached for it, Graham raised his shovel like a baseball bat. It was times like these that he wished he still carried a gun.
Guy slowly lifted the heavy trap door, dropping it onto the ground behind the hole. Both peered into what appeared to be a well-fortified tunnel. Guy reached inside with his shovel, the implement disappearing into the blackness after only a few meters.
“Son of a bitch. He did get away.”
“It appears that way.”
“So everything with our business, the wedding, the explosion at Dorothea’s... it all makes sense now.”
Chapter Fifty-Eight
“Calvin. What do you want?” She looked at a man only slightly older than herself but whose face and demeanor bore the brunt of a life lived on the edge. Dressed now in a dark suit and tie, he looked more like he was with the Secret Service, and not her father’s right-hand man. His dyed jet black hair, so much like her father’s, was slicked back like a character in a ‘60’s Brylcreem commercial. When she’d arrived home at twelve to discover him living in the guest house and acting as her father’s bodyguard, he’d put her through an hour-long interrogation. He’d demanded she not upset her father while she was home for her Easter week holiday.
“Oh, I’ve got what I want. Or at least some of it.” He pulled out his cell phone and flashed it at her.
She gasped when she saw a picture of Cha
nce at the park. “You. You tried to steal my son?”
“You really should be more careful with him.”
“You bastard.” She flew at him like a lioness attacking her prey. Her nails ripped into his cheek while her heel slammed down on his foot.
He staggered back momentarily with the surprise of the attack, but it didn’t take long for him to react. He grabbed a handful of her short hair and yanked her head backward, arching it at an awkward angle so her neck felt as though it might snap. His other arm wrapped around her waist, clasping her so tightly that she struggled to breathe.
“Where’s your son?”
“I’m not—” She groaned in pain.
“Yes, you will tell me. Where is he?”
She forced her mind to go blank. She knew exactly where her son was but there was no way she was letting him know.
“Why do you want him, Cal?”
“I told you my name is Calvin.”
He punched the third floor button. He wrenched her arm unnaturally behind her, and when the doors opened a moment later, he shoved her into the parkade. She struggled, swinging her free arm back and kicking backward with her left foot. He slammed her into the side of the wall and she crumpled against it, almost sliding to the concrete floor but for his rough hands holding her upright. It was as if someone was flipping overhead lights on and off as objects came into fuzzy focus only to fade again. She tried to shake her head to clear it but before she could, he’d shoved her into his car, strapped her in and speedily wrapped duct tape around her wrists and ankles. She managed to wrench her legs from his grip but her efforts were too little, too late. She tried within her confines to swing about to kick at him but he was too fast, slamming and locking the door on her. She was able to unlock it but he quickly locked it again with the remote control. She realized with sudden clarity the child safety lock was not engaged, but she had no doubt when he was in the driver’s seat, he would immediately employ it.
As soon as he opened his door, she was ready. As he stood with one hand on the driver’s door, she unlocked the door, grabbed the handle with hands still taped together by her wrists and dove out. He sprang into action, grabbing the back of her skirt and yanking her back inside with the power of a backhoe and slammed a beefy fist into the side of her face. Pain exploded in her head. Somewhere in the back of her mind, it registered that her brains had ricocheted against her skull and felt like they were being buffeted about, no longer able to find their rightful place. Despite her mind somewhere in the distance urging her to get moving, she slumped in her seat.
Simultaneously, time stood still and time sped up until they pulled in front of Bobbie’s house. Tarin’s first instinct might have been relief except for the painful memories of all she’d discovered about her friend.
“So, are we going in together for your son?”
“’No.”
“Well, let me—”
“He’s not there.”
He stared at her before turning back around and pulling away. The split second of relief instantly gave way to alarm. Where the hell was he taking her?
She didn’t have long to wait. He parked in the office parking lot. Panic set in when she realized how much he knew. It was also late in the day and traffic had died down, pedestrians had vanished. As soon as he climbed out, she began her struggle, desperately using her teeth to chew at the tape like an animal caught in a trap. Her efforts only tightened the tape, turning it into a twisted rope. She had only managed to pull a few strands out by the time her door was jerked open and she was pulled out. Unable to move quickly enough, she flung her arms out as she felt herself tumbling and sending Cal off balance. With a primal reaction, she snapped her legs straight, propelling herself out the door and driving her shoulder into his stomach. He jerked forward at the waist and she wiggled her body reflexively like a fish violently catapulting through the water. It was enough to send him flying backward.
“Ooomph.” The wind was knocked out of her as she landed hard on top of him. With a superhuman effort, she forced herself to her feet and vaulted toward the car. With Cal still lying on the sidewalk, she grabbed her bag, emptying its contents onto the seat.
Reaching for her phone, she hit the speed dial for the office. “Bill, please answer. Bill, please answer.”
“Hello. Leave your message.”
Her words tumbled over one another. “Please help me. I’m in the parking lot. Cal has me. He wants Chance—”
The connection abruptly ended and a groan behind her served as an urgent reminder that she needed to get moving. She bit into her wraps with the ferocity of a starving coyote. Tiny strands tore into shreds but the binding held.
“Here.”
Her body nearly spasmed at the voice at her ear. She spun around to see Bill’s scruffy beard and a knife he held out to her. She held out her arms and then her legs as he quickly sliced through the tape.
“Thank you.” She jumped to her feet and gave him a quick hug. His cheeks turned ruddy and he ducked his head when she pulled back.
“Ooohhh.” Cal moaned.
“Bill, we’ve got to get him into the office. I need to interrogate him before we turn him over to the police. Can you help me?” Before she could even move, Bill had hefted a still dazed Cal. He rushed into the building and up the stairs like a soldier carrying an injured comrade in the heat of battle.
She quickly strapped Cal to a chair with the same duct tape he’d used on her. Once she ensured he was securely contained, she tossed a glass of cold water in his face.
“What the hell?” he spluttered as his chin came up.
“Glad to see you’re awake, Cal. Now you’re going to give me some answers.”
“Like hell I am.”
Tarin glanced at the closed door where Bill safely had Chance in her office, while she used Graham’s. Though anytime Graham or Guy had a meeting in there, she’d never been able to hear them, she wondered how soundproof the walls really were. As she turned back to Cal, her eyes rolled over the desk phone. She’d arranged it with Bill to call the police as soon as she hit the intercom buzzer.
“Oh, but you are.” She held up Bill’s knife, raking it along Cal’s cheek. “Did my father put you up to this?”
“Yes, it was his idea.”
Okay that sounded like BS.
“What was he hoping to gain?”
“Your child, of course. He always wanted a son. You, if anyone, should know that.”
“But I thought that’s the role you were filling, his prodigal son?”
“I am, in every way that matters.”
“And what did he want with my child?”
“Blood is always thicker,” he spat. His lip curled and his eyes flashed with rage. Spit hung at the corner of his mouth.
“Ah yes. And you’re not really related, are you? You’re just some schmuck my father took off the streets. I guess you didn’t realize you weren’t of any lasting value to him?”
“That’s bullshit!”
“Nope. True. Really? You think you hold a special place in my father’s life?”
“You don’t, you're a girl. He never wanted a girl. Said you were useless to him. He needed an heir. A man.”
“Did he hire you to steal my child?”
But Cal was done. His face was now as red and puffed up as a pressure cooker. She stepped back slowly until she was within an arm’s length of the computer keyboard. “Did he hire you? Or was it your idea so you’d remain the prodigal son?” She clicked record on the laptop. His eyes were focused on the far wall.
“I did everything for him. I was going to save him from a leech he didn’t even know existed.”
Tarin stared at him. His meaning was clear and she struggled with a mother’s wrath at his reference to Chance.
“I’ll make sure he knows the little bugger exists before I do away with the both of them.”
She was tempted to hit the intercom buzzer but couldn’t just yet. She just had to keep herself from strangling the
low-life who had dared threaten her son before she got answers.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
“Okay, Bailey is looking after Grandma at one of Calib’s hotels. It seems to be the safest place for her right now. Detmier will keep an eye on them both. The police will keep them under surveillance.”
Graham fired up the Hummer and pulled out of the parking lot. “No response from Tarin. Bill said she left because her dad had a stroke, which sounds awfully fishy to me. If that son of a bitch has her—”
“We’ll find her. Don’t worry. Where to first?”
“Let’s head back to the office and get a plan together—and make sure Dorothea is safe. Now that we know Geoff could have survived the blast two years ago... we should have known he had it planned, he’d have arranged an escape route. What a sick bastard. Who kills someone else and plants them so they’ll be mistaken for you? He’s got to be behind all this.” Graham stomped on the gas pedal, squealing tires as he pulled away from the curb.
~~~~
The door flew open, cracking against the wall with such a loud bang that Tarin dove for cover, behind Graham’s desk.
Chance!
She peeked around the side of the desk. There was no one there. Unsure where they had gone, she decided to make a run for it. She had to find her son. Staying crouched, she ran. She’d barely made it through the door, when an arm snaked around her, halting her. Going on instinct she brought the heel of her shoe down on his foot and her elbow upwards toward his jaw.
“Jesus, Tarin.”
The hold loosened a tiny bit but it was enough. She dropped downwards, sliding through his grip. She could feel his arm sliding past. Freedom. Only at the last second he recovered and reached down wrapping both arms around her and scooping her off her feet.
“No. You son of a bitch. You low life. Let me go. I'll—”
A hand was soon clamped over mouth. She bit down hard.
“Tarin! Will you stop!”
She wasn't sure whether it was the fact that he'd been saying her name that got through to her, his masculine scent or the three pairs of eyes that were staring at her. Guy with a raised eyebrow. Bill, who was covering her son's ears as best he could. But her gaze immediately rested on Chance who was snuggled up against Bill, watching her but very content with where he was. He was fine. She went limp as all the energy and the fight went out of her.
