Page 200 of Midnight Curfew

I close my mouth, swallowing my fucking aggravation. This is what I wanted. He used me five years ago, and I need closure.

I don’t want his love. I’ll never get that.

I get the closure I’m after, or he’s going to find out how far my imagination extends to his family.

Tipping his eyes up, he cocks his head. “Mr. Ames.”

He almost bows his head like he fucking works for me.

“Mr. Jaeger.”

He walks out, and I rise, throwing on my pants. Heading into the hallway and gesturing to the guards over the railing, I watch them open the door for him. He walks out into the rain, not looking back and already hating me.

My father wouldn’t care. His friends wouldn’t care.

I ball my fists, pushing away the regret. I’m either in control, or I’m not, and he doesn’t deserve to be let go. Not yet.

As the door closes, I spot my father’s Bentley in the driveway, my stomach sinking. Lewis, one of the guards, nudges his chin toward the hallway below. Fuck.

I head down the stairs, glancing up as I swing around the banister, making sure Sophia’s bedroom door is still closed.

I might wonder what the hell he’s doing home in the height of the heat and the impending tropical storm, but I knew I couldn’t keep the discovery in the tomb a secret. Too many people were involved, and he stays abreast of everything.

Drawing close to the cracked door, I hear him shuffle papers inside, the small light on his desk still shining from when I was in there with Dallas an hour ago.

I push open the door and step in, seeing him stand behind his desk.

“I really thought you’d be the one taking it,” he says, not looking up from his contract, expense report, or whatever he’s looking at. “It’s not so bad, I guess.”

Tipping his eyes up at me, he flashes me a small grin. I’m not embarrassed my father came up the stairs and saw me riding a man in my bed. I just wish he’d caught me when I was taking it.

“What are you doing home?” I ask.

If he’s going to be here, I need to figure things out a little faster. I don’t want Sophia to see him.

“Heard I missed a hell of a party,” he tells me.

I think he waits for me to offer information, but I stay silent. What does he think is going to happen?

“You’ve done well.” He says it as if I needed to hear it. “Where is the loot?”

“Police station.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

Now it’s my turn to smile. There’s a little in lockup at the police station. To put on a good show.

But the majority of the treasure is still in the bread truck I borrowed from Clayton’s, and only I know where the truck is hidden.

Not even the town’s cameras go out that far.

“You should be nicer,” I inform him.

“I can be meaner.”

Fortunately, I never had to find out personally, but I am aware of what he’s capable of.

Coming around the desk, he shuts off the light and grabs his keys. “A lesser man might have you tortured,” he points out. “But I wouldn’t do that to my son.”