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Her hand reached out and her fingers fluttered over his arm. “I’m not forgetting it. Whoever was on the line upset you. Talk to me.” Her lips thinned. Her hair was a beautiful, sexy tangle around her face, and her eyes seemed so dark and deep. “I don’t want secrets between us. No secrets. No lies. Remember?”
He remembered everything that involved her. “You don’t have to worry, it’s not about you. The call had nothing to do with you.” And he wanted to keep it that way. He never wanted any part of his father’s darkness to touch Alina.
“But it had everything to do with you.” Her head tilted, and her hair trailed over her shoulder. “You’re upset.”
Hell, yes, he was. “My father,” he gritted out.
She waited. Watched. No judgment showed on her face.
“That was the DA and my dad’s current attorney—my dad says that he will reveal more vics and their locations.”
Her lips parted. “That’s good, isn’t it? For the families?”
A grim nod. “If he’s not lying. My dad is very, very good at lying.” He raised his chin. “And there’s a catch. There is always a catch with him. He never does anything out of the goodness of his heart because there is no goodness in him.” His father only existed to destroy the good things in the world. “My father said he’ll only reveal the info if I come and talk to him.”
“Go.”
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Go,” she repeated. “If there are people out there who have missing loved ones—wives or daughters or friends—and this can end their cases, then go.”
“Not that simple. Nothing is ever simple with my father.” No, everything was always a game. A chessboard set up so that his father planned every single move in advance. “And I’m not leaving you.”
Her fingers pressed harder to his arm. “Midas…”
He looked at her hand, then at her face. “I’m not leaving you,” he said again. And it was probably callous and brutal, but he still told her, “Those vics are dead, Alina. Cold in the ground. No one ever escaped from my father. I can’t bring them back, no matter what I do.” But what he could do? “I can protect you.” She was living. Breathing. Beautiful. Alive, right in front of him. “The man who orchestrated your kidnapping is still out there. I will not leave you alone.”
His father could rot in hell.
Midas would not be seeing him again.
***
“We are prepared to offer a deal, of sorts.” Terrance Peters stared across the table at Henry Monroe. Terrance made an effort not to let any emotion show on his face or in his voice. He was good at keeping his mask in place.
But, deep inside…
Henry Monroe freaks me the hell out. It wasn’t the man’s massive size. Though, if anything, he’d gotten even bigger in the years that he’d been incarcerated. Probably because the man had plenty of time to work out. Over and over again.
Henry Monroe was still in the prime of his life. He’d had his son Midas when Henry had just been eighteen years old. He easily could have passed for Midas’s older brother. The two men looked so very similar.
And that is one of the reasons it was easy for Henry to set up his own son.
Henry Monroe could be charming. So many people had said that during the countless interviews before the trial—correction, trials. Charming. Seemingly kind. A big guy with a big heart.
Such bullshit descriptions. When they were away from the public eye, when it was just Terrance staring across the table at Henry, Terrance saw the other man for exactly what he was.
A stone-cold, sadistic predator.
“Better accommodations,” Terrance said. He hated offering anything to Henry, but there was no choice. More vics? He’d been after this intel for years, and Henry had steadfastly refused to cooperate.
Until recently.
Until the out-of-the-blue phone call from Henry’s lawyer.
Xander Palmer sat near Henry at the little table. Terrance noted that Xander made sure not to get touching-close to Henry. A smart move, though Xander was hardly the man’s type.
No, Henry preferred female victims. Small. Delicate. Breakable.
