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HENDRICK
My father and brothers tell me to meet them all at their office, a place I know well but don’t go to often. They also ask me to kill all surveillance of the place, including camera security. I guess they don’t want to be seen coming or going, and that shit makes me wonder what the fuck is actually going on here.
Because I am one hundred percent, without a doubt, convinced that there is something happening. I’m also not sure that I want to know what it is. But I don’t have a choice. It now involves me and Allison.
The cameras on the sidewalk, building, and anywhere else in the area have been officially jammed as I pull up to the back parking lot of my father’s building. Moments later, three cars appear, sliding in right beside me in a row. We look like the Mafia, with our sleek black cars and all of us still in our suits from the day… well, except me. I never wear a suit. I wear jeans and T-shirts with a leather jacket at all times.
But right now, I wish I had a suit because it would be a freaking badass group shot. And this is why I don’t have a job with a suit. Because I’m over here thinking about how walking into a building with my dad and brothers would be badass if we were wearing suits when the woman I love is missing. Possibly being kidnapped by my fiancée.
Fuck me.
Once we’re inside the building, I expect to go upstairs to the offices, but we don’t. Instead, my father walks to the back, where there is a security room set up. It’s a nice little situation, but mine in my house is better. I wish he’d have me come here and update his shit. Some of this is old as fucking dirt.
“I needed all of you here. It’s clear that at this point, you’re all involved in one way or another,” my father begins. He’s in complete director mode right now, and my spine straightens a little more as he speaks. This isn’t just about my woman being taken or missing. This is family business.
Opening my mouth to ask him to just tell us, I snap it closed, knowing he won’t say shit if I demand it. He leans back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest as his gaze flicks between us.
“I haven’t been truthful. I honestly wasn’t sure what I was getting into with all of this, so I didn’t know if there would be anything to be truthful about,” he begins.
Snapping my lips closed, I press them together as I inhale through my nose. I can feel my nostrils flare, but it’s not out of anger. It’s out of worry. I’m scared. The last time I was scared was when Allison was taken just a few months ago.
She needs to come home, even if it’s not to me. I vowed to myself that I would marry her when we got her back last time, and I broke that fucking vow. I hate myself for it. I don’t know that she would have been taken if she were my wife.
“Dad,” I whisper.
He dips his chin in a single nod. “I had Hendrick watching Samson for me because I knew he’d been taking money off the top of his collections, but when he sent me his bank statements, it didn’t make sense, because he had a fuckton more than he should have had.”
“What is Samson doing?” Wells asks.
I watch as he balls his fists at his sides, his anger rising as he begins to breathe in and out rapidly. His nostrils are flaring because he’s getting pissed off. I don’t blame him. All this means that there is another traitor in our midst.
I am sick of our own family turning against me, turning against us. This is not what our group is about, and it seems as though it’s been happening over and over. Usually, when something like this happens, it’s because of poor leadership, but that’s not the case. I feel as if I can look at my father objectively, and I think he’s doing a great job as a leader, as a boss.
Some people think that to be respected is to be feared. My father isn’t that way. He tries to be a good man and be respected for his strength and his leadership abilities. However, these fucking dicks are trying to pull this crazy-ass shit behind his back, as if they think he’s weak.
If there is anything about the director that I know to be true, he is far from weak. He plays chess, not checkers, and he will bury each of these traitors with a goddamn smile on his face. If I were them, I would tread fucking lightly.
“I think, but I can’t be certain that Samson is involved in the women’s trade shit that Hendrick was into. I thought this was all done, but it seems as if they’re roaches just crawling back.”
“The safe house,” Coleman murmurs.
“What?” my father asks.
I smirk, but it’s not because I think any of this shit is funny. It’s certainly fucking not. Instead, it’s because I don’t know how else to react.
The fact that this shit is tying in together is fucking beyond me. I didn’t expect it, and yet I can’t wait to hear more. I want to fit the puzzle together and find out why the fuck they thought they could take both Harlow and Allison.
I haven’t done fuck to anyone.
“Hendrick noticed that Samson was going somewhere and that he had a burner phone. Since he couldn’t get the transcripts from the phone, and he couldn’t track him since he took Ubers, he called both of us to help him and be his eyes.”
My father’s gaze flicks to me, and he arches a brow. “You did all that without me or anyone else telling you?” he asks. I’m not sure why he’s acting surprised, but he is. He runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on the ends as he nods his head. “A safe house,” he murmurs. “Interesting. Well, what did you find out?”
I smirk. “I haven’t had a chance to look deeper into it. All I know is that it’s registered to a shell LLC and there’s a PO box somewhere in Longview, Texas.”
“That far?” Coleman asks.
I nod a couple of times, clearing my throat. “Yeah, I traced that down yesterday. Has anyone looked for Samson tonight?”
