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“Later.” He smirks.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Hand in hand, we leave his room. The house is quiet. Ellen hums a cheery tune somewhere deep in the house as we head for James’ office.
“Surely he’ll be sleeping?” I whisper.
It’s early, and after the events of last night, I feel like I could sleep for a week.
“Guess we’ll find out.” Conner doesn’t bother knocking, pulling me inside.
It’s empty, but the room is a mess. The huge desk is littered with papers and documents. There’s an empty glass on the sideboard and a half empty bottle of scotch.
“What is all this stuff?” I run my fingers over a couple of letters. Names I don’t recognize are printed along the top. Kingsley. Davenport. Cargill. “Rexford?” The word spills from my lips.
“What?” Conner leans in close and scans the document.
“It looks like some kind of roster.”
“But why would Hadley’s family name be on there?”
“What’s that?” Conner points to a watermark in the corner.
“It looks like some kind of cres—”
The door creaks open, startling us both.
“Why am I not surprised?” James says coolly.
“You owe us an explanation.”
He runs a hand over his stubble. There are dark circles around his eyes, and when I breathe in I get a faint whiff of liquor. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Mr. Ja
gger was hungover.
“You should be resting,” he says to me.
“I’m okay, all thanks to you.”
Conner makes a derisive noise in the back of his throat and I cut him a hard look.
“Ah, it would seem my son hasn’t told you the entire story.”
“Conner?” Dread washes through me.
“I thought I’d save that for you.”
Letting out a resigned sigh, James closes the door and takes a seat in his fancy wingback chair. “Sit.” He motions to the couch. “I’d offer us all a drink, but it’s a little early.”
“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” Conner mutters, tension radiating off him in thick waves. I squeeze his hand gently, my eyes flicking to his. His dark expression softens. “We saw it.” He says the words to his father, but he’s looking at me. “We saw it all.”
“I suppose you want answers.”
“I do.” Conner’s eyes finally slide past me. “I want to know why the fuck Warren had photos of Hadley, Timothy Davenport, and Bexley Danforth on that wall.”
“Son, keep your voice down. The last thing I want is Cole to—”
“Seriously? You want to keep this from him? He has a right to know. They both do.”
