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Chapter 61
Cash
Thetextthatchangesmy entire life contains only three words.
I’ve got Grace.
Those three words tell me a few things. One, Grace didn’t betray me. Two, my father is a bigger psychopath than I realized, and three…I’ll trade my own life for hers in an instant.
He holds all the control. Anything he wants—and I know what it is already—he can have. The James Liquor Company, Bristol’s Hope, all the money in my name—he can have all of it because without Grace and my daughter, it’s worthless.
I hit dial, and my father’s voice carries over my speaker phone. Frank perks up from his position in the corner, his eyes rising to mine in question.
“Cash, I was wondering how quickly you’d call.”
“Where is she?” I ask, skipping right to the point.
“She’s taking a little nap. Nothing to be concerned about—yet. I take it you know what I want?”
My head pounds from the lack of sleep, and I massage my fingers against my forehead, trying to ease a little bit of the pressure. “The company. It’s done. I’ll have the papers drawn up in the hour. Now where’s Grace?”
He laughs, and my fingers white-knuckle the phone in my hand. Frank is now beside me, staring down at the speaker as we both wait.
“When you get me the contract—ironclad—I’ll bring her to your office. I also have an account. I’ll text you the info, and you can wire me all the companies’ funds.”
Frank scoffs but I shake my head. Whatever he wants…none of it means shit to me.
“Done. But if so much as a hair is messed up on her head—”
My father cuts me off. “Hate to break it to you, son, but she’s more than a bit messed up, and she’ll only be worse for the wear if you don’t get me my fucking company back and my money. Tick tock…time is running.” The phone goes dead, and Frank and I stare at the blank screen. Before I have the opportunity to fling the phone across the wall, Frank grabs it from me.
The hair on the back of my neck rises as my entire body heats imagining Grace hurt. My hands shake so badly that the table shifts, and Frank places his hand on my own. “We’re going to get her back.”
“Them, Frank, them. My daughter and my wi…” The word dies in my throat. She should be my fucking wife. This is all absurd. Ridiculous. I should have proposed months ago. I should have forced her to see what I’ve known all along. I should have protected her.
“Call the lawyers and get the paperwork started. I’ll make calls and find out where your father is.”
“What kind of calls?” I ask gruffly.
Frank’s eyes pan to mine, and I know without him telling me what he is going to do.
“You know I’d never ask you to use your connections…”
“You didn’t ask.”
“Frank…”
“He’s got your pregnant girlfriend. There are lines that even my family draws, Cash…”
My father’s a monster.
“You haven’t spoken to your father in years though…for good reason,” I remind him, all while trying to figure out who we should call. The police? Carter? Hanson?
Someone has got to be able to help us.
“This is what my family does, Cash. They deal with monsters. They are monsters. But…this is what they do,” he says evenly, his eyes dipping to the ground, finally admitting what I’ve always suspected.
And while I’d never ask Frank to go back to that world—one he’s worked hard to distance himself from and at great personal cost—he’s offering, and this is for Grace. I nod, and he turns away, already dialing into the phone.
