My father laughs. He actually fucking laughs, and I couldn't be more confused and prouder at the same time. He might be riled up, but he's not scared of Warrick Fairfield. Fear comesfrom a lack of knowledge and understanding, which tells me something else: I was right about my assumptions at the party. My father knows what makes Warrick tick.
"The Miller girl was your doin', not mine, but I guess I'll take the blame for that too. I can live with that. My table will be full tonight with my son, my brother, their wives. I'll sleep just fine." He pauses, letting the words land. "You, however, will be in a cold bed, alone with your fear."
"Don't pretend to know me." Warrick's voice is defensive now. "This has nothing to do with fear or how I choose to warm my bed."
There's silence, and I can't help but wonder if it's because my father is sizing him up, choosing which battle to fight next. The tension between the two of them, the words they're sharing now…at the center of it all is Maya.
"It's got everythin' to do with fear," my father says quietly, dangerously. "Don't forget, I know things too. Not only do I know where the bones are buried, I know the stories they tell."
Fucking hell. If I didn't know better, it sounds like my father just gave credit to Asha's dark suspicions about her father surrounding Maya's death.
"I reckon we're done here. I don't know what's in that folder. You can come after me, bankrupt me all you want, but we both know you'll lose more than just Asha in the process."
My brain is in overload, trying to fill in the missing pieces and read between all the things my father isn't saying.Who else would Warrick lose besides Asha?He has to be referring to Sydney. There's no one else. If Warrick takes down our operation, Fisher and Sydney lose business too. Hale Ranch has had a shared partnership with the Downs family for decades. They own the tracks. We breed the horses that will eventually race on them. Sure, we aren't the only breeders out there, butour families have history. However, history aside, if he takes us down, he hurts Sydney in the process.
"We'll see," Warrick says before heavy footfalls strike the wood floor, and the front door opens and closes with an echoing click.
I know where the bones are buried.
What the hell have I just stumbled into?
For a long moment, there's nothing but silence. Then I hear my father exhale a long, heavy breath. Now, probably isn't the best time to ask twenty questions, but the way I see it, there never will be.
"What was that about?" I ask, stepping out of the office, and I find him standing in the middle of the living room, staring down at what I now know is an envelope.
"Just your new father-in-law stoppin' by with well wishes," he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he works to open the envelope Warrick dropped on the table.
"Don't lie to me. Warrick does enough of that. I heard what you guys were talking about."
My father's eyes flash up to mine, but in them I don't see surprise. I see knowing. He knew I was listening.
"What do you know about Cassidy?" I ask, feeling like it's the lighter question to start with, considering the dark note his conversation with Warrick ended on.
"I hear the town gossip." He doesn't look up from the envelope, his fingers working at the seal. "You don't think I pay attention when I hear my son's supposedly gonna be a father?"
"I'm not," I start.
"I know." He holds up his hand and starts toward the kitchen.
"And?" I prompt impatiently, following hot on his heels. "That's all you're going to say about it?"
"Warrick's been lookin' for more land for some time now, knowin’ the lease was expirin’," he says, setting the envelope down on the granite. "Rumor has it he looked at the Miller farm. It ain't no secret that Warrick Fairfield's held a grudge against this family since he rolled into town." He moves to the bourbon cabinet, pulls down one of his small-batch labels. "The Miller family needs to sell to keep their business runnin'. I think Cassidy took it upon herself to tell stories in hopes of gainin' a sale."
He pours two fingers of bourbon and examines the amber color in the light.
"If she split the two of you up, I reckon she thought she'd win Warrick's favor and land that sale." He caps the bottle and sets it aside. "But because he can't stand the thought of him bein' the reason he's losin' his daughter, it's my fault." He raises the glass to his lips and pauses. "Just like it was all those years ago."
"What does that mean?" I press incredulously, moving around the island to face him. "All those years ago with Maya?"
He takes a long drink instead of answering, his eyes closing briefly.
"It means I hope you love her, son," he says quietly, his accent softening with the weight of his words. "Because he's gonna pull out everythin' in his arsenal to break you two apart." He slides the envelope Warrick left across the granite island toward me. "If I don't help him end your marriage, we ain't goin' to Lexington next week."
I snatch up the envelope and pull out the documents, my eyes scanning rapidly. A formal HPA complaint concerning Hale Ranch.
"This is garbage," I fume as I look over the list. "Painful treatments, misrepresentation of horse health, sub-par facilities… Is he joking?"
"It doesn't matter if he is. An active investigation would keep us out of the auction." He sets his glass down. "Could tie us up for months, maybe longer."
