Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sig stood at the bottom of the narrow metal stairs, looking up into the interior of the private plane. He couldn’t feel the duffel bag thrown over his shoulder or the nighttime breeze tousling his hair. His reflection in the hand railing was his only clue he’d made it to the airfield where LA had sent the VIP treatment. He’d slowly lost feeling everywhere. But he needed to get up the stairs, into the plane, so it could take off and fly him to the other side of the country. That’s what was happening. No stopping now. Go.
Grinding his molars together, Sig forced himself to ascend, one step at a time, ignoring the phone that vibrated nonstop in the front pocket of his jeans. Burgess had been calling him all day, no doubt wanting to talk him out of the decision he intended to make. Reese had called, as well, asking him once again to reconsider. Hell, even Mailer and Corrigan were on his ass, but they didn’t understand what it was like to love someone to the point of pain and give her up. God willing, they never would.
Sig collapsed into the first seat, staring blankly ahead.
His phone continued to buzz, carrying on for several minutes until he sighed, leaned back, and extricated the device from his pocket. Instead of Burgess, Reese, or one of the Rookies calling him, however, it was the private investigator.
“Jesus. What the . . .” Sig shook his head. Why was the guy still calling? He’d sent the final payment. What more did the man want from him? At this point, the fact that he’d hired a PI felt ridiculous. He’d never really had a chance of success, had he?
Maybe he owed the man a verbal goodbye. At the very least.
It hurt to think, to talk, so he’d avoided speaking to virtually everyone for the last few days, but he cursed and answered now, hoping to get the conversation over in under a minute. “Hey, Niko. Sorry I’ve been MIA, but I’m just about to take off on a flight—”
“Shit, man. You had me worried.”
Sig frowned. That was a little extreme, wasn’t it?
Maybe not. Maybe everyone in his life should be concerned about him, considering he felt like a bleeding chunk was missing from his chest. “I’m good,” he lied. “Thanks for—”
“I shouldn’t have sent that file over without preparing you first. Some people don’t take that kind of news very well. It’s upsetting, you know?”
What in God’s name was Niko talking about?
“To be honest, I didn’t bother looking at the file. My father ended up marrying Sofia Clifford in Vegas last week, so . . . not much point in trying to fight it now.”
There was an extended silence on the other end. “You didn’t look at the file?”
Beneath Sig, the plane engine started with a brief growl that settled into a hum.
“Nah, didn’t look. And it’s not that I don’t appreciate your hard work. I do—”
“I think you should look.”
Irritation crawled up the back of Sig’s neck. Why wasn’t the private investigator taking the hint? Hope had withered and died on the floor of Chloe’s apartment and reigniting that flame was fucking cruel. “There’s nothing it could say that would make a difference.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Niko said, with a humorless laugh. “Look, I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. If this is where we part ways, so be it. I appreciate the prompt payment. Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Sig muttered, watching the screen as the call disengaged.
“We’ll begin taxiing in five minutes,” called the pilot from the front of the plane.
Distracted, Sig nodded . . . and looked back down at his phone, his curiosity multiplying by the second. What important revelation could possibly be in that file?
After another few seconds of hesitation, he tapped his email icon and scrolled down, down, past all the correspondence with LA, ads, subscription renewal alerts, until he landed on the message from Niko. He opened it, went to the attached PDF, and started reading.
While attempting to access marriage and divorce records with the county clerk of Hennepin County, a paternity test was discovered. At the behest of the Gauthier family, Harvey Lerner was asked, via the courts, to take the test that ultimately resulted in a false result.
It was determined that Harvey Lerner is not the paternal father of Sig Gauthier.
The words bled together. His pulse pumped in his ears.
That couldn’t be right. That couldn’t be . . .
But it made so much sense. His mother’s resentment, her lack of communication with her family, Harvey leaving them so abruptly. My God. Oh my God.
If he wasn’t Harvey’s son, wasn’t his blood relative . . .
Then the man married to Chloe’s mother wasn’t his real father.
Not even his stepfather. Nothing.