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Sasha flicks open her badge, holding it up in the woman’s face. “Sasha Knight, FBI. I spoke with Mr. Walker on the phone. He’s expecting me.”
“Yes,” she concurs. “Mr. Walker mentioned you.” Her eyes glance over Mitch and myself, but she doesn’t ask any more questions. “Come in. I’ll tell him you’re here.”
The housekeeper directs us to a ridiculous sitting room, the walls lined with my father’s accomplishments. Oversized movie posters with Reid Tannen’s face splashed in full color, photos of my dad with various politicians and celebrities framed and displayed to remind folks how much better than you he is, Air Force commendations, letters from studios and presidents, various awards… all of them staring down at us little people who dare to bring our unworthy selves into this sacred space.
“Gavin? What are you doing here?” My dad forgets to hide his shock with his usual layer of hostility, allowing himself to sound human for a change.
“Mr. Walker, I’m Sasha Knight, FBI. We spoke earlier.” Sasha inserts herself in between myself and my father, holding out her hand.
He looks at me a beat longer before turning his gaze on the tiny woman. “Yes, we did.” My dad shakes her hand, his face still crinkled with confusion.
“You,” he growls when he spots Mitch. “You’re the one who told my son to say all of those things in public.”
Mitch’s face turns deep red. He inhales, ready to give my father a piece of his mind. I take his hand and thread our fingers together.
“I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to do, dad.” I let my father see Mitch and me standing as a united front. He will not break us apart. I refuse to let it happen, and Mitch going postal on my dad and getting arrested is the fastest way to ruin us.
I can feel Mitch slowly get his anger under control, his muscles relaxing and his grip loosening. I run my thumb across the back of his hand, letting him know we’re in this together.
“What do you want,” he hisses at Sasha, angry at being deceived.
“Can we sit?” she asks, her professionalism never wavering. When he doesn’t respond, she coaxes him. “We only need a minute of your time.”
“Fine, but I’m very busy,” he grunts. His eyes keep flicking back to me. My dad is a hard man, military through and through. He never shows any emotions except disappointment and anger. Not to me, anyway. Yet every time his eyes land on me, I can see a hint of what was there at my beach house—fear. He’s afraid for me, something I’d never have imagined in a million years.
Sasha takes a seat on a hideous sofa and my dad sits on a chair next to her. Mitch and I sit further down the sectional, keeping some space between my father and us.
“Mr. Walker, I wanted to ask you a few questions about Gavin’s stalker,” she begins, opening up a small notebook.
My dad sputters, caught off guard. “Me? What the hell do I know?”
I’m not even a trained professional and I can see the blatant lie. I know Mitch sees it because his hand clenches around mine, nearly breaking my fingers he squeezes so hard. Ever the professional, Sasha doesn’t flinch.
“You went to your son’s house to warn him about the stalker. You told him that if he admitted he wasn’t gay, that the stalker would cease, but if he didn’t, he was in grave danger,” she challenges.
“I did not!” My dad’s face turns purple with rage, or maybe fear of being caught. He shoots to his feet. “I’m very busy. I’d like you to leave now.”
He glances one more time at Mitch and me, his eyes dropping to our entwined hands. Without another word he stalks out of the room.
Mitch yanks his hand from mine, exhaling heavily and tugging at the collar of his shirt. “Fuck,” he snaps. “I want to strangle him until he admits the truth!”
“We’ll get him, Mitch. Make no mistake.” My skin chills at Sasha’s promise, goose bumps forming on my arms. “Let’s go. We have a lot to do.” She pivots on her heels, leaving us to follow.
“I’m kind of afraid of her, Utah,” I mutter as Mitch and I trail Sasha to the car.
“You should be,” he agrees.
Note to self—never piss off Sasha Knight.
***
“What the fuck is he doing here?”
Agent Halifax’s angry snarl echoes throughout the open floor plan, sounding more whiney than threatening as he glowers at Mitch.
Before Sasha can explain, I interrupt. “Because it’s my fucking house and I want him here.” I shoot the Agent a withering glare.
“What the fuck ever,” he mutters.
