“What is going on?” he asked, his eyes flicking to everyone else now. “What are you doing here? What are you doing on him, Regan?”
Evie’s eyes went wide, the rage and pain there so clear that I wanted to kill him right then and there for it. I knew Regan’s face had to mimic hers. I tightened my grip on her, trying to remind myself I had promised Regan I wouldn’t just kill him, but fuck I wanted to.
“She is right where she’s supposed to be. We are here because we live here now. And what is going on is that your house of cards has fallen. All your secrets are out, Fletcher.”
“I don’t know who you are or what you think you are doing, but you need to get the fuck out. You know who I am, and I think you can comprehend that this isn’t going to work out however you are hoping it will.”
I urged Regan up, keeping her standing next to me as I stood up and pulled off my shirt, showing off the scars that marred the side of my stomach.
“And you know exactly who the fuck I am.”
There was no reaction from him. He didn’t seem shocked, and I knew I had been right.
I could feel Regan at my side, and I sat back down, giving her room if she wanted to sit with me again.
“You do know who he is, don’t you?” she asked.
“I do, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why the fuck you let him into our house,” he snapped, and she flinched.
“I wouldn’t yell at her if I were you,” I said.
“I’m her father. I can yell at her if she lets criminals into the house.”
Regan moved in front of me again, sitting back on my lap. “If we are ruling out criminals,” she said, “then I think we all need to leave.”
I grinned, looking at her before turning to him. “The first guy to take you up on the hit offer failed. My pretty little rebel girl shot him before he could get me.” I reached up, running a hand through her hair until my fingers were dragging down her neck and over her chest. “She really didn’t like you threatening my life, and I don’t like you threatening hers.”
“You didn’t answer me,” Regan said, watching him. “Do you know who he is?”
Her dad rolled his eyes, leaning back in the chair, apparently no longer thinking his highbrow act was necessary here.
“Of course I know who he is.”
“Then I can assume you would remember my father, Michael Emberson. Or maybe my mother, Andrea?”
The flash of fear was brief, the cruel smile taking over so fast I almost missed it.
“Oh, I remember. They are dead, right? Burned to a crisp in a house fire, if I remember correctly.”
“That’s them,” I said, letting the harsh visual hit me, fueling the hatred and satisfaction of what came next. “You can see I was almost burned alive along with my sister, but we got out.”
“I do remember the two little orphan children, but I thought they were shipped off to a grandmother. I’m surprised you came back around here.”
“Interesting fact, all our grandparents were dead. We were sent to live with strangers, who quickly realized their mistake and shipped us back.”
“How sad to come home to nothing but rubble and debts. Daddy didn’t leave you a dime, did he?”
I didn’t look at Regan, but her hand wrapped in mine. I wanted to see how she felt about loving a poor, orphaned monster of a man, but I couldn’t bring myself to look up.
“How could you say those things?” she asked. “You know he lost his parents and you talk about it like that?”
“Because he’s the one who burned them up,” I said. “And you’re proud of your work, aren’t you, Cameron?”
He sneered. “I’m proud that I was about to make something of that company. Your father was shit at running the business, and I don’t actually know if your mother had a brain past artwork.”
Evie got up, her eyes flashing with the burning hatred I knew she had for him. She grabbed the knife that she had stuck between Elliot’s legs and reared it back. The blade slammed down, sliding against Cameron’s thigh before it stuck in the wood.
“What the fuck?” he yelled. “You cut me!”
