It used to scare the pants off me as a kid when he sensedwho was in the room. Now, I'm pretty fucking sure he uses reflective surfaces and awareness of those around him.
Still, it's a neat enough fucking trick.
Slowly, he turns, blowing smoke in my direction.
He drinks me in and frowns. "What the fuck's wrong?"
Well, fuck.
I don't need this.
Even as my blood pounds and my stomach is eating me from the inside out, I shrug and offer a nonchalant grin.
Don't get me wrong. I'm torn up by what's happened.
I get the dire nature of the situation.
But...
And there's always a damn but.
We'll get my sister back.
Dad will do it. He'll pull strings, call in favors, use his clout, and if need be, use Uncle Gino too.
No one worth anything would take us all on. Them. Take them, not us. Them.
Shit, no one worth anything would dare take on my father.
Or my uncle.
Both of them together?
Death wish with maximum pain.
And chances are, whoever has Lyndall will let her go the moment they discover her last name. From there, it wouldn't be much to push to have both girls released.
I've had time to calm down on the drive from the Rockaways here.
Sort things out.
Logic is my game, and if I hadn't been so torn to pieces over them both, torn over Lola finding out my truth in the way she did, I'd have come to this conclusion sooner.
Because whoever took them didn't just take Lola.
Lola's one thing. She doesn't have a thing to do with myfamily. No way would Dad lift a finger, let alone send out one man to find her.
Lyndall?
A different fucking story.
"Why does anything have to be wrong?" I search for the most palatable way to present this to Dad.
My father narrows his eyes, pointing his cigar at me. "The only reason you'd be here when you weren't summoned is if something's wrong."
"I see."
Problem is we both do. In this, he speaks the truth.
