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I looked past him at the large warehouse sitting farther back between the trees.

“Inside there?”

“Come on, baby.”

He started walking before I could ask anything else, leaving me no choice but to follow him.

The closer we got, the more uneasy I became. Nothing about this place screamed birthday surprise. There weren’t any cars waiting outside, no lights, no damn bow sitting on a building.

Nothing.

When we reached the warehouse, my father pressed the button on a panel beside the door. A few seconds passed before a deep, raspy voice came through the speaker.

“Yeah?”

“It’s Anthony.”

There was a brief pause.

“Come through.”

The line disconnected, and a second later, the large metal door started rising as my stomach tightened.

I looked at my father again, but his attention stayed straight ahead as he led me inside. The warehouse wasn’t anything like I expected. Instead of one open space, different rooms had been built throughout the building, with another level overlooking the first floor. Everything was clean and organized, but there was something about the place that made the uneasy feeling in my stomach grow stronger.

My father didn’t stop to explain shit. He led me upstairs and down a hallway until we reached a closed door, where he knocked twice.

“Come in,” that same deep voice said.

My father opened the door and walked in, and I followed closely behind him.

The first thing I noticed was the older man sitting behind the desk. He looked to be somewhere in his late fifties or early sixties, with deep brown skin and a solid build that told me he still took care of himself. Gray threaded through his neatly trimmed beard and the hair along his temples. A dark suit covered his broad frame, and a heavy gold watch sat around his wrist. But it was his eyes that held me. They were dark and sharp.

The kind that seemed to notice everything. His gaze landed on me the second I walked through the door, and a slow smile spread across his face.

Something about it made my skin crawl.

“Alright, Jefferson.” My dad stepped to the side. “I held up my end of the deal.”

My head snapped toward him.

Deal?

“What deal?”

Neither one of them answered me immediately.

I looked between them. “Dad, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Your father didn't tell you, baby?” Jefferson asked from behind the desk.

My eyes went back to him. “Tell me what?”

He didn't answer. He just looked at my father. That pissed me off even more.

“Dad?”

My father dropped his head and rubbed a hand over his face before finally looking at me.