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“Am I supposed to know that name?” A shrug of shoulders that were as wide as Midas’s. “Was he some friend of yours?”
“No.” His father was such a good actor. Always had been. “He was a friend of yours.”
A shake of Henry’s head. “No, can’t say that he was. Don’t know the name.”
“Five-foot-ten, about one hundred and eighty pounds. Twenty-seven years old. Dark hair. Hired himself out as a bodyguard.”
His father’s eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you a bodyguard? I believe I heard a news story or two about you protecting a big actor and maybe a pop singer.” His chest puffed up. “My son, running around with the rich and famous. You must know how proud I am.”
Midas leaned forward. “The last thing I want is for you to be proud of me.” That would be his nightmare.
Henry appeared pained.
“And we both know,” Midas continued because he was not buying this BS act of Henry’s, “that you would only be proud of me if I suddenly started following in your footsteps. You want me to be as much of a predator as you are, but that isn’t going to happen.”
Henry glanced down at his restraints. While tension held Midas in its feverish grip, Henry appeared completely relaxed. “I go to see a shrink twice a week.” His stare rose to pin Midas. “Court ordered. But, you know what? As much as I originally hated the sessions, I’ve learned a few things from her.”
Her? They had Henry going to see a female shrink? Surely, he wasn’t left alone with her.
No, if he’d been left alone with the shrink, she’d be dead by now.
“Denial,” Henry stated with a nod. “So many of us live our lives in denial. Denying who we are. What we want. What we need. You just can’t move forward until you stop denying your true self.”
“You’ve never denied your true self.” Midas wasn’t buying his crap. It might fool the shrink, but it wasn’t fooling him. “You’re a killer. A sadistic prick who gets off on torture and pain.”
“And what are you?” Henry asked.
Screw this. “Bored.” Midas rose to his feet. “If you aren’t going to cooperate, I’m done.”
Henry peered up at him. “All because I don’t know your Bowie friend?”
“Not my friend. The bastard tried to kill me yesterday.”
Henry’s eyes widened. “Yet here you stand. Does that mean the bastard in question was the one to die? Hopefully by your hand?”
Midas slapped his hands on the table.
His father’s lawyer flinched.
Henry’s head turned toward him. “Xander.” Said with a hint of disgust. “Why are you here? I asked to meet with my son, not with you.”
Sweat dotted Xander’s brow. He pulled a monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket and patted at the moisture. “I’m—I’m here because you need representation. I have to protect your interests.” The handkerchief fluttered toward the one-way mirror. “The DA is in there, listening to every word that you say.”
“I am well aware of who is in the observation room.” A pause. His features tightened. “Why don’t you go get your ass in there, too? Because I do not need you.”
“But—but I’m trying to look after your—”
“Get the fuck out.” Henry peered at the one-way mirror. “I waive my rights for an attorney right now. I just want to chat with my son and not have some pencil-pusher breathing on me and flicking his smelly sweat everywhere.”
Xander whipped back in his seat. The chair legs screeched over the floor. “I—” He stood and clutched a briefcase to his chest. “I can go?”
“That’s what ‘get the fuck out’ usually means,” Henry said with a roll of his eyes.
Xander fled.
Midas continued towering over the table with his hands flat on the surface.
As soon as the door shut behind Xander, Henry sent Midas a small smile. “Lawyers, am I right? You can’t trust them.” He quirked a brow. “Gonna stand there all day? Or are you going to sit down so we can talk like two civilized men?”
