Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 323(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“What are my orders, Blake?”
“I’ve called my guy at the FBI. He’s meeting you to take a statement and take control of the scene of the crime. Do you know West’s condition?”
“I’m almost back to the scene,” I say. “Give me about thirty seconds and—” I bring the ambulances into view. The scene is blocked off, but I can see enough of the blood and gore to conclude, “He’s not making it through this.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Damion
The doorbell rings, and Alana shoots to her feet, fidgeting and nervous since I told her about Caleb’s words today. She’s even called her mother, who’d declined her call. One of Blake’s men had to assure her that all was well on that front.
I indicate my phone and the text I just got. “He just texted me. He wants me to step into the hallway.”
“That doesn’t sound good. Why is he excluding me?”
“Because he doesn’t like to put me on the spot and have me make decisions that make me look like an asshole to you. Which I appreciate, though I tell you everything anyway.” I round the desk and catch her shoulders. “I stop and think about what you will think, and I make the better choice. So, you’re still there with me. Give me a minute, baby. I promise I’ll tell you what happens.”
She folds her arms around herself and nods. “Hurry. Please.”
“I will.” I kiss her temple and then step out of the room and cross the apartment to step into the hallway to join Blake.
“Fuck, man, I do not like conversations like this one.” He scrubs his jaw.
A clawing sensation works through my body. “Just say it. What the fuck is wrong?”
“Kellan was following your father…”
I listen to the story, and it’s almost as if I’m in a cave, the explanation is muffled and unreal. When he finally says, “Your father’s dead,” I hit the door and press my hand to my forehead, my gaze stretching to the sky as if there’s an escape route I can crawl through right above.
But there is not.
I huff out a breath and lower my gaze to Blake’s. “I feel—empty. I don’t know how else to explain it.”
“Shock is a motherfucker,” he says. “It’s going to be a rough ride.”
“I hate to even say this, but I’m going to inherit the company control. I look guilty as fuck. I have motive. You said that. You were right.”
“Half the city has motive. This seems more poetic justice than murder. And the investigation is pretty cut and dry from what law enforcement is telling us. The guy who pushed him was homeless. He’s known around that area of town for his erratic behavior. He’s also missing, but he’ll probably show back up—he always does. What’s your plan?”
“I want Alana out of town, but I need to be here to take care of whatever needs to happen. I’ll let you know when we can leave, but let’s plan on Saturday, late day.”
“I’ll book the chopper. What time?”
“I’ll pay to have it on standby. Just get it ready for me.”
He nods, and before he turns, I say, “Somehow, Caleb did this. You know that, right?”
“If that homeless guy doesn’t show back up when locals are sure he will, I’d tend to agree. But that would be hard as fuck to prove. He actually performed CPR on your father and all, but got hit by a vehicle trying to protect him.”
I draw an uneasy breath and leave it at that.
I turn around to enter the apartment. Alana is standing at the door, waiting on me, tears burning in her eyes. “My mother just called. You know, right? It’s all over the news.”
“I know,” I say solemnly, opening my arms to fold her close.
“I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m so confused.” She tilts her gaze to mine. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know, baby. I told Blake what I’ll tell you. I feel—empty.”
But I know in my heart that’s not wholly true. He was a bastard who I’d declared I would kill to protect Alana. Now he’s dead. And she’s safe. I feel relief. I abso-fucking-lutely feel relief.
I would have, and will, do anything to protect Alana.
And I was willing to say goodbye to my father—kill him to protect her—and now that willingness has become reality. There was no other way to stop him, but Caleb—and this was Caleb, I know it was—simply did the deed for me.
Poetic justice, Blake said.
Yes. Yes, it is.
Chapter Forty-Five
Alana
The next few days tick by with heavy arms of the clock.
Damion identifies the body. His mother is going to fly in for the funeral. And I have to convince my own irrational mother that she cannot attend the funeral of the man who killed her husband. She’s more upset over Damion’s father than mine. I can’t help but question her knowledge of my father’s murder, and I know my father was murdered. But justice has been done. Damion’s father is gone. My mother is alone.