Once there, he pours us both a scotch, and as much as I know I shouldn’t, I take a sip for courage. But only one. I’m not giving myself any more chances to fuck up, and my control is always worse when I’ve been drinking.
“Any problems I need to know about?” he asks, his genial mask half dropped. Which means the other half is actually him being happy to see me. Shit.
“No, sir. I just had some time to think.” He stares me down, and not for the first time, I wish I were allowed to fidget. “I was hoping we could come to an agreement that would leave Clara unattached.”
“Don’t you want the girl?”
I want to lie. But he’s always seen through my lies. Not one has gone unpunished. I’m left with nothing but the truth. “Yes. But she doesn’t want me.”
“She seemed quite interested in you last I checked.”
“I messed up.”
“Then buy her some flowers or jewelry. She’ll come around. I’m releasing your trust fund once the engagement photos are published.”
He stands, deciding the conversation is done, leaving his untouched scotch on his desk for someone else to deal with.
“I’d come back to the family. Full involvement, no asking questions, if you cut her loose.” I sound desperate. I am, but shit, I wasn’t supposed to sound it.
He comes around the desk, leaning against it as he looks down at me in a way he never could if we were both on our feet. “Archie, why do you think I’m doing this?”
Another test. One I’m going to fail, my heart so loud that I can hardly hear him. “You want me back in the fold.”
“As usual, you see half the picture. I want you back, that’s true. But neither you nor your brother have proven yourselves willing or able to take over what I’ve built. And I’ve worked too hard to have it all vanish once I’m gone. So, Archie, I don’t want you. Not the way I did when you were younger. Instead, I want another chance at sparking the same passion in another.”
I shake my head, not wanting to hear more about my goddamn kid stuck in his grasp. Wishing I had the courage to point out he has a wife already and no need for me to take up the mantle.
Whatever Jessica has on him must be world-ending for him to turn to me for this.
He smiles, but it’s nothing more than a flash of disappointment. “You fail to see the bigger picture, Archie. You see, I hold the future of those other boys your Clara cares for, so I can keep her in line. And I hold her future to keep you in line. I will get what I want. We both know I don’t take half measures. I will have a grandson, and it’s going to be yours. Trevor and his little kitten are sweet but dumb. For as much of an idiot as you can be, Archie, you’re a better bet by far. And that girl, as much as I dislike everything about where she comes from, she has the kind of smarts and drive that I want my heir to inherit. So no, I’m not cutting that girl loose. And this conversation? It’s your first strike.”
The words have a shiver rippling down my spine. Twice before has he been that serious about consequences. Three strikes and he beat me until I could hardly crawl to the bathroom to vomit blood into the toilet. The other time, I was older, stronger, so he locked me in one of the bedrooms for days without food. I was so weak by the time he let me out that a simple backhand from the man had me falling to the ground.
He leaves the room, and I lean forward, my elbows on my knees, gripping my hair until the pain knocks me out of the fear spiraling inside me.
This was a long shot. I knew it was. But deals were the primary way we’d managed for the last few years. To go backwards, back to threats and counting my errors? It’s beyond fucked.
And based on what he just said, those strikes won’t land on me. They’re heading straight for Clara.
Chapter 25
RJ
The only thing that’s keeping me sane while Clara is off with Trips is working, and even that is hardly keeping me sane. Tracking the pedos is routine, and the cops are still working the leads I gave them. My dad checked in for a Gamblers Anonymous meeting yesterday, and I sent him a text praising him—both because it’s a step in the right direction and to let him know that I’m always watching.
Creepy? Yeah.
But I’m not letting him get away with prayers of healing anymore. He’s going to have to work for it.
Bryce is still silent, no more photos of Clara on his phone, and that makes everything in me fearful for the moment when the mess goes belly up. The only suspicious thing I could find was a blurry close-up of someone’s Lycra covered ass. I never thoughtI’d be able to identify someone by their ass, but I know for sure it’s not Clara’s. And I don’t know what to do with that fact.
Classes for next semester are all sorted, and despite the warning from Trips’ dad, I ordered the supplies for Walker’s passport project, and they should arrive in a few days.
The poker games are on hold for now, so there’s nothing for me to do there.
But I halted my research into Trip’s family. Every time I see one of their fake smiles, I want to break something. And really, what am I going to find, anyway? Knowing they’re terrible should be enough for all of us to proceed with caution.
Which leaves nothing on my list but the name Trips gave me for his childhood therapist.
