Page 51 of Volatile Waters

Crash was no longer watching her out of duty to Timothy. He was falling for her. I heard the hunger that had also been affecting me. Owing him made my eyes slide shut as I tried to feed more ice to my cold heart. “Her father says what I want is in her house.”

Crash’s voice filled with hope. “I’ll search every time she sleeps.”

My head felt so heavy I let it fall back and hang for a rest. “Search well, my friend.” I hung up. After letting the phone rest in my lap for a few minutes, I finally picked it back up, dialed another number, and pulled it to my ear. My chair on wheels slowly spun in a circle as I waited. After two rings, I heard, “Ted Jones here.”

Still gently spinning, I stared at the ceiling while attempting to sound cheery. “Mr. Jones, I presume you got my message?” One of Kirill’s pictures of Reether hugging the blonde girlfriend had come in handy after all.

“You sonofabitch, you did not need to kill anyone to get my attention.”

I stopped moving my chair. “But it got you to stop running from your crimes and secrets.”

“I am an upstanding citizen who has committed no crime—”

“You are a slave owner who is hiding the identity of a drug dealer’s son.” When there was no reply, I asked, “No?”

“Who are you, really?”

“The proper owner of your wife and son.”

“They are human. They cannot be owned.”

“Then why do you sound so scared?”

“Because you clearly do not follow laws or reason.”

This I could not deny. “Then you understand the grave danger your family is in.”

“Which is why I am speaking to you.”

I liked Mr. Jones. It may sound odd, me being in the profession I was in, but I found honesty to be refreshing. “It should please you to know your son, Harold’s son, shows your bravery, not the drug dealer’s.”

An exhale echoed over the phone. “It does. Thank you.” I waited as he coughed then choked out his next question as if the answer may end his life, “Is my son safe?”

Again, I rewarded honesty with honesty. “My boss prefers him to be trained and sold.”

I never knew a lingering silence could slice someone, but that is what happened to Mr. Jones. Me, by not adding to such news, stabbed him in the heart. His voice was so restricted I wasn’t sure he was breathing properly. “His life… his safety… is priceless to me. Do you understand?”

Jealousy pinged my ego. This man adored a son that wasn’t even his.

“Sir, do you have children?”

I could barely talk myself. “I do not.”

“If you did… you could possibly understand how desperate I am right now. I will give you my home, every cent in my bank accounts, even my own life, just please, leave my wife and son alone.”

In order to do this, I would have to lie to my father. Weighing my options, I pondered over what other deceit my father had lurking. I was willing to bet the truth would sadden me greatly.

Mr. Jones reminded me, “I am in this mess quite deep. I’m sure you have figured out how.”

I nodded to myself. Mr. Jones made Whitney’s American false birth certificate. “How much does your son know?”

“Not enough for his death.”

“Says his father.”

“Says a lawyer.”

I understood what he meant. Reether would not be a strong witness. “Can you keep his curiosity to a minimal?”