“I imagine so. Word is she’s still looking for that poor girl,” Shawn leans over, lowering his voice. “I heard Liam Mackenzie put a 12-million-dollar bounty on your mother, but the consensus seems to be that others chipped in too, having suspicions about your brother’s whereabouts coinciding with some . . . incidents.”
“You don’t have to beat around the bush, Shawn. Hans got what was coming to him. Actually, I firmly believe he deserved worse than simply being shot,” I say, and relief drops his expression some on his face. “I appreciate the warning, but I knew about the bounty. I found myself considering it recently when she ordered me to come here.”
“Why did you?” he asks curiously.
“Call it morbid curiosity,” I grumble shortly. “Let’s head inside. Since my mother always gets what she wants, I’ll have to plan out how best to spend the most amount of her money as I can. You’d think her turning legitimate would bankrupt her by the way she complains. So, what do you know about this deal?”
“Ah,” Shawn stifles a chuckle as we walk up the steps and into the lobby of his hotel. “I have it all loaded onto a flash drive for you, but honestly . . . I wouldn’t be at all persuaded by Hans’ proposal even if he hadn’t caused all the trouble your brother did.”
“Christ,” I groan softly as Shawn and I reach the elevator. Dread grips my gut in a vice and writhes uncomfortably. “Then again, my mother has never trusted me before with anything important. I was only a step up from Hans in her eyes because I made money. I’m sure, if it’d been me that’d been gunned down for something despicable, she’d wipe my existence from the face of the planet. What ever happened to the youngest of the children being the favorite?”
“I dunno. I think two out of three ain’t bad, myself. I only have one daughter, and what I’m most proud of her for is being neither spectacular nor a complete disaster,” Shawn says as the elevator begins to ascend, and I look over at him curiously. He tugs his short stubble. “Maybe, she wants a daughter? I’d heard rumors she was keeping some poor girl hostage in her mansion outside Berlin.”
“Ulla, yes. My mother brought her to London like the girl was a fucking purse poodle or something,” I grimace; the more I think about it, the worse I feel for hating Ulla. I’d had a 13-hour flight to think about it, after all. “She was a disgusting human being before Hans died, but now she’s just this creature my mom drags around on a short leash.”
“The last 7 months under Petra’s heel will do that even to the strongest of souls,” Shawn smiles at me sympathetically. “I always did wonder, Baron . . . what was it like growing up with that woman for a mother? I mean, no offense, but I was a foster kid, and I know I got lucky ending up how I did.”
“It was like growing up without a mother at all for me. It’s hard to hate someone you don’t know,” I glance over at Shawn and frown with a shrug. “But hating the idea of her was easy enough.” Even though I’m just meeting Shawn, I’m finding it very easy to talk with him.
Shawn doesn’t say anything more before the elevator jostles to a stop, and he gestures me out with a flourish of his arm. He seems like a decent man, but I’m suspicious as to his extent of involvement in the seedy underbelly of Seattle. Looking around, I mentally shirk off my caution. Maybe, everyone knowing everything about everyone else is a cultural thing? And Shawn’s rather low in the hierarchy. He’s admitted to mostly hearing rumors.
“Here’s your room. Did you want room service brought up? You’ve been flying for hours,” Shawn suggests as he opens the door and hands me the keycard.
“That’d be great,” I answer.
“The service is number 3 on the phone. There are menus on the nightstand. Anything you need, let the staff know. They’ve been instructed to accommodate you.” Shawn doesn’t enter the room, and I nod before closing the door behind me. Looking around the small suite, I fight a sigh of exasperation. The exhaustion of flying for so long hits me as I drop my bag onto the table and pull out my laptop. Eyeballing the manilla envelope on the table, I grab it to rip the top open. Inside is a thumb drive, and I drop it to walk over to the menu sitting on the nightstand by the phone.
“Mmm, maybe I’ll get some Italian,” I mutter to myself, and Delaney’s face flashes in my mind’s eye. Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I Google the time in Switzerland and frown. “She’s eight hours ahead of me . . . which means it’s past 10 right now.”
My thumb hovers over the screen before I type a quick goodnight text to Delaney. I set my phone down only for it to ping insistently, and surprise raises my brows. Holding my breath, I swipe to open the text and smile warmly at the simple heart emoji Delaney texted back in response.
“I hope she’s doing okay.” Relief slumps my shoulders as I turn my gaze to the menu. Grabbing the room phone, I hold it to my ear with my shoulder and jab the 3 button. The line rings twice before being answered. “Hi, room 527. I’d like to order room service.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I scan the menu and rattle off a few dishes that I know will be good, even here. The exchange is quick, and I hang the phone on its hook to rub my face roughly. Glancing at my bag and the thumb drive on the table, foreboding floods my system.
Shit, this is probably going to be the worst piece of reading material ever. Grinding my molars, I push myself to my feet to shuffle over to the table and move my things to the bed. There’s no reason I have to suffer through this on anything less than comfort. Unpacking my laptop, I open it and turn it on before picking up the thumb drive.
This thing just oozes some fucking dark, sticky miasma—or maybe I’m just imagining it?
“Here goes nothing.” Grumbling to myself as I quickly type in my passcode, I stick the thumb drive into the slot on the side of my laptop. The drive opens, and I squint at the multiple files inside. “Ah. Shit1, Shit2, and Shit3 . . . about what I expected. At least the outline of proposals and my mother’s terms are in here.”
This doesn’t bode well for me. I mouse over one of the files and hesitate before opening it. The presentation file opens up with a picture of a cartoon Satan, and I roll my eyes before closing it immediately. Whatever Hans had done isn’t going to be of any help to me, but that really put a period at the end of that expectation. I mouse over to the outline and open it.
“That’s more like it,” I mutter in grim satisfaction before my phone starts to ring next to me. I grab it, and my heart stutters as Delaney’s name flashes on the screen. Answering the call, I move my laptop off my lap to lay down and stare at the ceiling. “Hey, love. How’s Switzerland treating you?”
“It’s going good, aye. I really splurged on my hotel room. It’s got a jacuzzi in it, and there’s this Italian place that I’ve loved since I first came here,” Delaney’s voice is stable, soft. I hear her tiredness in her tone. She sighs softly, and my cheek twitches at the phantom of her feel. “I went and saw the lady I was working with before. She recommended this place to me, actually.”
“You sound a lot calmer. I’m glad to hear it, love,” I smile broadly, and Delaney hums softly. “It’s pretty late out there, huh? Are you settling in for the night?”
“Aye, I just . . . wanted to hear your voice, Baron,” Delaney admits sheepishly, and I inhale a deep, calming breath as I let that knowledge wash me of the shit smell clinging to me. “It feels like a lot longer than the three days that I’ve been here.”
“I know. It’s like you got on that plane, and my whole life went to shit immediately,” I blurt out before I can stop myself, and I sit up with a slight grunt. Running my free hand through my hair, I bite back a sigh. “My mother came to visit. She was sitting in the lobby when I was about to leave and catch some sleep after checking up on Tom and the construction crew.”
“Oh? What did she want?” Delaney knew snippets about my mom, but not much. I am reluctant to tell her about my mother at all. It’d almost be easier for me if Liam Mackenzie had done away with her. But Delaney doesn’t need to know any of the sordid details of my past. “It went bad, didn’t it?”
“Well, it went quite good, actually, which is the more concerning situation,” I reveal, and Delaney stifles a snigger badly. My lips twitch in a smirk, and I move my phone to my other ear absently. “She’s been having a time of it lately. She made some poor decisions and wants me to rescue her, but I have no intention of getting involved. It’s not like my mother’s penniless, just a stubborn, old bat that doesn’t want to admit she made a mistake. She’s not very popular right now, and I fear it may be affecting her decisions.”
“Poor decisions? Did she throw away the chocolate she asked for?” Delaney asks, and I bark a laugh and nod. Rubbing the back of my head, I crane my neck and try to escape the clutches of this ugly sensation weaving up my spine.
