“And I’m telling you it’s not.”
“So, he made it up? You didn’t have a journal…”
“I told you he was your father’s son!” she shouts. “If you don’t want to believe me that’s up to you.”
“Susan, you used to journal,” Dad points out. “If there’s something—”
“I can’t believe this,” she cries. “You’re going to take her side? You know how messed up Stephen was, and Nevaeh refused to see it. And now she’s married to that thug who owns a club.” She spits out the last word like it’s a curse word.
“Mom…” My head is pounding and I’m starting to see stars.
“No, I’ve had enough.” She gathers her coat and storms off, leaving my dad and me alone.
“I’m sorry.” He sighs.
“You don’t have to apologize for her. You aren’t responsible for the way she acts.”
“No, but if I had stood up to her more, maybe I would’ve known Stephen was in trouble sooner and I could’ve helped him.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.” He nods. “After he passed, I went through his accounts. Everything was burned in the fire, so I had his mail forwarded to the office. He was in debt. Gambling with the wrong men and spending every dollar available on his credit cards. He was several months behind on rent.”
I’m in shock. Does he know Ethan is one of the men Stephen owed? I want to ask, but at the same time I don’t want to bring it upif he doesn’t know. At first, I wanted to blame Ethan for Stephen’s death, but I quickly learned killing people isn’t how Ethan does business. Stephen’s death was one hundred percent Logan and even though he isn’t rotting in jail for it, he’s still going to spend many years locked away for other reasons. As much as I’d like to add to his sentence by going to the police and telling them it was Logan who shot my brother, I would never risk Ethan getting caught up in that.
“I suspected,” I admit.
Dad nods. “I’m not sure what your brother read or where the journal was, but I’d like to believe your mom is telling the truth and Stephen’s my son. Even if he wasn’t biologically, I loved him as such and that wouldn’t change by knowing his blood type doesn’t match mine. I do hate that he had those suspicions and died with them.”
I place my hand on Dad’s. “He knew you loved him.”
“Is there anything else you needed to talk to me about?”
I open my mouth to tell him about the tumor when a horrible migraine hits me full force.
“Nevaeh?”
“Yeah, sorry.” I close my eyes, counting to ten, hoping it will let up, but it doesn’t. “Do you think we could continue this conversation tomorrow?”
“Of course. Is everything okay?”
“I just—” The feeling of needles being pounded into my skull causes blackness to momentarily overtake me. Once I can see again, I finish what I was trying to say. “I would like to speak to you and Mom together. Can you ask her to please meet with us so I can talk to you both? It’s not about Stephen.”
“Okay.” He gives me a worried look.
I stand, holding on to the arm of the couch. “I love you, Dad.” I give him a hug.
“I love you, too, Nevaeh. I’ll speak to your mom and call you tonight.”
“Thank you.”
With my head throbbing, I send a text to Rosco to let him know I’m done and will meet him downstairs. I say goodbye to Glenda and head to the elevator. Once I’m in, I press the button for the first floor. When it lands, I step out, looking for Rosco. My head is extremely fuzzy, worse than it’s ever been—something is wrong. I spot him standing by the SUV, but before I can get to him, a hand lands on my bicep and I’m yanked in the opposite direction.
Natural instinct has me screaming, but the hallway is empty, and before anyone can hear me, a large hand covers my mouth. I kick and punch, but he’s too strong and hauls me out the back of the building. I get a look at the man, suspecting it to be Logan, but it’s not. Unlike Logan, who looks like an all-American boy, this man screams danger. He has several tattoos covering his sun-wrinkled skin. He’s dressed in a business suit, but his hand, which is reaching for the trunk, is covered in tattoos as well. And unlike Ethan’s beautiful tattoos, these look like they were done in a basement somewhere.
“Your husband thought he could flip sides and go straight. Turn me in…” He picks me up and drops me into the trunk. “Nobody keeps what’s owed to me.”
“Who are you?”
