Liam signs, running his free hand through his graying hair.
“Your mother and I were one of the lucky ones,” he starts. “A betrothed couple actually in love with one another. The contracts were already signed. It was all set that as soon as we finished college, we’d be married. That week, your mother’s father, your grandfather, wanted me to investigate a business offer in Portland.”
“What kind of business?”
“Ground transportation company called Lion’s Share,” he tells me without hesitation. “If we bought the company, it would provide another way to transport our merchandise across the nation and Mexico without raising suspicion.”
“Because the trucking company itself was legit?”
Liam nods. “Yes. It isn’t uncommon for mafia families to buy established legit companies to move their illegal products. But it also provides an income that is legal.”
“That’s why Matthias target Ward Enterprises, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he acknowledges, a stunned look crossing his face. “The difference is that Matthias didn’t buy out the company. He bought out Ward’s debt instead, because as a newer power in the city, at the time, it would have been more suspicious.”
“Whereas quietly buying Ward’s debt let Matthias stay in the shadows,” I ponder thoughtfully. “And then any kind of heat would come down on Elias and not him.”
“Exactly.” Liam smiles. “It was smart on Matthias’s part, but there is always a small caveat when you don’t fully own and operate the business.”
“Elias got greedy.” Everyone knew that. “He didn’t want to keep giving up part of his profit, so he tried to cut Matthisa out by stealing his shipments and reselling them. He probably thought he could blame the thefts on another gang.”
“You’re pretty perceptive.”
I smile sheepishly at his compliment. “I pay attention. People talk when they think you are too stupid to listen. Or when they believe they have a firm hold on you.”
“Well, they’re the stupid if they didn’t see the snake hidden in the grass.” He says it with a proud smile on his face that being called a snake didn’t irritate me. It is true. Elias never saw me coming when we hit the port. Never bothered to consider what I might do with the information he so freely talked about in front of me.
“Who told you she ran away?”
“Ava.” Liam purses his lips together at the sudden change.
“Was it Marianne. She lied,” I point out desperately. “I have proof that my mother was kidnapped a full week before she filed the police report and?—”
“Enough, Avaleigh.” His booming fills the small space as he parks the Porsche in the back parking lot of the bar where the employees keep their cars. I flinch at the use of my full name. “I will not have you throwing accusations at people. She is my wife, and you will therefore resp?—”
“Respect her?” I sneer at him. “You people are all the same. Respect is earned, not freely given. I’ve lived my whole life having ‘respect’ beaten into me. There is only one person I respect, and he?—”
“Isn’t here, is he?” Liam interrupts coldly. “Barely looked at you when he left. Didn’t bother to ask if you wanted to come with him. He left you here, face that. You may respect him, but he doesn’t respect you.”
“Neither do you,” I hiss, unbuckling my seatbelt. “I’m telling you that something is off with Marianne. Whether she was involved with my mother’s kidnapping or not, she is hiding something.”
“You don’t know anything, little girl,” he seethes. His emerald eyes bore into mine, a mirror image. “I went into thatpolice station every day waiting to hear something. Waiting to either identify her body or welcome her into my arms. Nothing. And then she suddenly shows up months later, and you expect me to believe she was kidnapped?”
“She was,” I protest, my voice pitching in desperation as I plead with him to believe me. “Neil even told you. His parents helped her escape.”
“She left a fucking note!” he roars. “Two weeks after Katherine miraculously appeared back in my life, I woke up one morning to find her gone and a note left on the bedside table. She didn’t want to be with me. She didn’t want this life.”
“Then why didn’t she go back home?” I push. “Why run away to Portland and change her name? Why hide me? None of it makes any sense, and Marianne?—”
“Enough about my wife.”
He leans forward like he is going to slap me, and instinctively, I shove myself against the passenger door, covering my face with my hands and clenching my eyes tightly shut.
Silence.
The blow doesn’t come.
Cracking an eye open, I peek between the slits of my fingers to find him staring at me, eyes wide, mouth slightly open as he takes in my defensive position. He mumbles something under his breath before hastily exiting the car, slamming the door behind him.
