AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“How do you know him?” I ask, giving Savage a nod and the three of us sit.
“We do contract security for Bennett Enterprises,” Blake says. “They’re good people. Knight Senior was not. And York Waters. York is not even close to a good person.”
“Blake’s the hacker I told you about,” Savage says. “People all over the world come to him to dig up secrets.”
“And the Knight family has secrets,” Blake says. “Dark, dirty secrets.”
Emma
I walk into my brother’s luxurious corner office, and thank God, his secretary is on vacation and the temp is nowhere to be found. The coast is clear and I shut the door. Not sure how long I have, I rush toward his desk and try the drawer. It’s locked. I curse and pull open the middle drawer. No key. Inhaling, I remember the survival classes my father made me take and I grab a paperclip, open it up and stick it into the lock. It’s a struggle but it works. The drawer opens. I pull my phone from my jacket pocket where I stuck it at some point, ready to take photos if needed, but telling myself that’s nuts. This is Chance. There’s nothing to find and photograph.
I search the drawer and find nothing odd. I move to the next drawer and it’s more of the same. Next comes the credenza behind me, with not much better luck. That’s when my gaze lands on the cabinet beneath his liquor collection. I rush over there, squat and use my paperclip. The door pops open and my heart clenches at the sight of an accordion file. The same kind I found in my father’s desk.
I grab it and I swear it burns a hole in my hand. I shut the door and stand. I’m not staying here one minute longer. I rush towardthe door, and exit to the hallway. The coast is clear, and I don’t stop walking until I’m in my office. I shut the door and then walk to my desk, sit down and open the file.
The first thing I pull out makes me sick to my stomach. I pant out a breath and there’s a knock on my door one second before Chance walks in. I stand up and he shuts the door. “I told her that I’ll meet with York.”
I hold up a photograph in my hand, a photograph of me in Starbucks, one of many photographs of me. “Are you having me followed?
“Fuck. No. That was—it was dad’s. I found it in his things.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” I demand in disbelief.
“I didn’t feel like it served a purpose other than hurting you.”
“Did he follow you?”
His lips thin. “No, or if he did I don’t know about it.”
“Did you know what an asshole he was?”
“I worked with him every day. Yeah, sis, I knew. The question is how do you know? He was a good actor.”
“I found his journal.”
“Journal?”
“Yes. Journal. And I promise you, that you don’t want to read it.”
He steps toward me, his entire body radiating agitation. “I need that journal, Emma.”
“No, I don’t think I’m giving it up.”
“I need the damn journal.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m the one living in the hell of his actions. I need everything I can get to cut off the bleeding.”
“So I’m right. He did bad things.”
“Yes, Emma. He did bad things.”
“What did he do to Jax’s brother?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do know.”
