I shove my feet into some shoes, snatch my keys off my dresser, head down the hallway to the door. Then Mickey asks, "Do you even have any proof she's your daughter?"
“Paternity hasn’t been confirmed, but there’s not a chance in hell I'm leaving a kid with that fucking psycho."
"And if it comes back that she's not biologically yours?"
This is a question I've asked myself countless times over the last few years. As soon as I found out about her existence, I immediately started throwing money at trying to locate her. Even as I told myself that it was impossible I was the child’s father, there's always this lingering voice in the back of my head telling me that when someone is desperate, anything is possible.
"Regardless of the results, she'll live a good life. But first we have to save her."
Mickey is quiet for a moment and then he says, "I have the perfect person in mind. Someone with personal experience in being coerced and extorted. She'll take the job personally."
"She?" I ask, a bit surprised.
Mickey chuckles then responds, "You'll see. What are you going to do?"
"Send me the location, I'll meet you there."
He doesn't say anything, and when I look at my phone, I see the call is already gone. I shove it in my pocket of my jacket as I rush out into my garage hitting the bay door on my way to my car. I drive out into the driveway, pausing to watch the door close, ensuring that the place is secure before taking off in the direction of the airport.
A few hours later I'm landing in a remote airport in Northern Canada. I was slightly surprised at the location, but it made even more sense on why she'd been so difficult to locate. Apparently, my ex-wife has a long list of low-life associates to go with her low-life behavior. The fact I was so blind to her deceptions is appalling to me. And honestly, I can't decide if I'd rather see her in jail or dead.
A car is waiting for me on the tarmac. The plane taxis close and then stops and I'm waiting in the doorway ready to deplane as soon as the stairs are down. Just as I reach the bottom of the stairs, the driver's side door of the SUV pops open and I do a double take when instead of a burly, rough-looking man steps out, a rather petite blonde woman appears. She leaves the door open, walks toward me, extends her hand as she says, "Mr. Logan. It's good to meet you."
Tentatively, I grip her hand. She smiles slightly, firming her grip until I take her hand with a little more seriousness. I give it a good shake and state, “Please call me Conrad, Ms…”
“Ferro,” she responds, a glint in her bright blue eyes. “Lilith Ferro.”
My eyes widen and I incline my head in acknowledgement of the name. Anyone who has ever dipped a toe onto the darker side knows the Ferros. I've always been one to live on the straight and narrow, but in the last few years I've had to do morethan dip my toes, so I’ve heard more than my fair share of stories about the family, and especially the eldest daughter. Not just her current hard as nails reputation either, but also the life she lived to get where she is.
And I fully understand why Mickey sent her.
She motions toward the vehicle and I follow her. She gets in the driver's side and I climb in next to her. She whips it around exiting the airport as she asks, "Can you give me some backstory?"
I sigh heavily and then say, "Where would you like me to start?
"The beginning, but you can just give me the cliff notes."
"Well, about 15 years ago I accidentally married a deeply disturbed conniving and manipulative psycho.”
Lilith laughs and says, "You'd be surprised by how many stories begin like that."
I look over at her. "Really?"
"Oh yeah," she says giving me a quick look as she adds, "Though typically it comes from women."
"That makes sense."
"Is she the girl's mother?"
I bark out a bitter laugh as I respond, "Actually no. Miranda is the mastermind, but she’s not the mother.”
Lilith frowns. "Then who is?"
"Her daughter, Amber.”
Lilith jacks the breaks, comes to a screeching halt in the middle of the road. She throws the vehicle into park, turns toward me, her expression grim, her stare deadly. "You're going to want to explain yourself."
I put both my hands up in front of me defensively as I say, “I never fucking touched her, I swear."
