“Why?”
“Because I always wondered if we were just as perverted as a bastard like Kabir. The man was not only Mikaela’s father, Saint. Her mother was her sister.”
Not much stunned my son, his expression right now, though, told me I’d caught him completely off guard. “Jesus.” He set his tumbler on a cocktail table, dragging both hands through his hair. “How the fuck did the man get away with that.” Disgust and anger filled his voice.
I tapped a finger against my glass, my laugh lacking mirth. “Because the world is filled with twisted fucks that can get away with anything because they either have the money, know the right people, or are just one step ahead from a law that allows criminals caught red-handed to prove their innocence.”
With his hands on hips, Saint looked at me. “Don’t compare us to them, Father. You treated every one of those girls with respect, with consent.” He leaned on the rail beside me, gripping my arm as if begging me to agree. “Levana was the youngest we ever had after you took over, correct?” I looked away, avoiding his innocent eyes then nodded.
Blowing out a relieved breath, he picked up his drink again. Annoyed with myself, I tossed back the rest of my drink, set my tumbler on the cocktail table, and slowly narrated everything that happened the night we caught Kabir, keeping my emotions in check despite the rage feeding my veins once more.
“Fuck!” Saint seethed as expected. Breathing hard, he paced the floor, something he did while trying to keep his wrath from spilling over. He stopped, his furious eyes on me. “Please tell me you killed that fucking bastard. That you fucking tortured him,” he gritted.
“Mikaela did something far worse. While it didn’t compensate for her pain, it gave her the closure she desperately needed.”
My son was quick on the draw. “Is that why you really sent Mikaela away? You think someone who might want to harm her is still out there?”
“I could lie and say yes, son but I’d just be lying to myself. Her strength is probably the most unrivaled I have ever seen, even in the toughest men.” Every inch of me still taut with anger, I gripped the rail with clenched fists.
“I agree,” he said quietly. “And why you shouldn’t have let her go.”
My soft laugh lacked mirth. “Ever heard the sentiment, if you love something—”
“Set it free. Yes.” He shook his head. “You always tell me you have my best interest at heart. Is that what you’re doing for Mikaela?”
I cupped my neck. “If her experiences bring her back to me...” I trailed off, not wanting to think further than that thought.
Saint eyed me for a bit. “Why did you let her into your heart if you planned to break hers in the first place?” he scoffed.
Wearily, I dragged a hand through my hair. “Because I had no idea I wouldn’t be able to breathe without her at my side until she walked away.”
“What do you plan to do about it?” His tone held an underlying forcefulness, almost warning me not to back down.
Saint was right. I was using my age as an excuse. Mikaela belonged to me. “Go after her.”
“Are those just words to pacify me or is there a true desire to be with her?”
I chuckled. I had to hand it to my son, he knew exactly how to rattle my cage in a very subtle manner and probably why he excelled as a professor of archeology. “True desire,” I replied.
“Good. What about this fourth man? Does he not pose a threat to Mikaela.”
I shook my head. “It’s been almost eight months since Kabir and Andrew’s disappearance. It’s what the authorities called it after Wilkes and his team set it up to look like they were working together on some unhanded deal that went south. Andrew mentioned the fourth man wasn’t after her. How true that is, I have no idea.” I shrugged. “Wilkes keeps me updated on Mikaela’s progress. He’s taken drastic measures with security, and so far, nothing sinister cropped up.”
“When do you leave,” Saint pushed.
I laughed. “I don’t have far to go, son. She settled in a small village on the outskirts of Birmingham.”
“Want me to come with you?” he offered.
“I have to do this alone, son.” What I couldn’t bring myself to tell my son was that in the last three months, whenever I was in the London office, I’d driven to Mikaela’s place a few times and waited outside for hours, hoping to catch a glimpse of her or debated whether to visit her as a normal person would. Or that watching Rhett drive in through those gates and leave hours later, stole the heartbeat I’d reserved just for her. According to Wilkes, my nephew visited often and sometimes stayed the night. That little share killed my sleep. It was no wonder I’d become a raving lunatic to my staff.
Saint stood yanking me out of my thoughts. “Join me for dinner?”
Together we walked out, reasons for Mikaela’s visit to the hospital roiling my stomach.
