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Because I’d wavered from the routine and life we’d built, everything had tilted into chaos. And I wasn’t sure what we had left.
Tomorrow, we’d planned to move our things out of the old apartment. That was before. I had to figure out if that was best . . . or if Lincoln still wanted us to. Or whether we really needed to go back to our old life. We were no longer in danger from our parents. Maybe we just needed to go home.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Lincoln
“Someone tippedoff the feds about the tax evasion.”
Zegas cut into his steak and shoved a bite into his mouth.
I pushed my untouched plate away. “What about the Logans? Are you certain they’ll never be released?”
He put down his fork. “I can’t promise, but let me put it to you this way. Even the most scumbag lawyer doesn’t want to defend abuse like that. Their public defender isn’t going to put a lot of effort into seeing them go free.”
The answer was unsatisfactory. I needed a guarantee that Lexie and Eric would never have to deal with them again.
“Donnie’s dropped the charges against Lexie. The DA isn’t going to pursue it. There will be some hearings and it’ll take time, but those assholes won’t be able to touch them again.” He pushed his vegetables away from the steak as if they were poisonous and cut another piece of meat.
I hoped that would give Lexie some solace so she could return to life as normal without worrying with the whereabouts of her parents or what they would do next.
“Did you even hear what I said? About the investigation?”
“I want you to focus your efforts on Lexie’s case.”
He dropped his fork with a clatter. “I’ve done what I can for now. She’s good. Now I’m trying to help you out.”
I traced the edge of the white tablecloth. The gun pointed at Eric’s head yesterday was all I could concentrate on. The hours of agony he’d spent locked in that closet. Thank God the weather hadn’t been too hot.
You saved me.
I’d done no such thing. I’d put him in harm’s way. It didn’t matter I hadn’t recognized the threat. He deserved better than that . . . especially from me. They deserved to go back to their normal life. Free of . . . entanglements.
Zegas pointed his fork at my plate. “Why did you bother ordering if you aren’t going to eat?”
I shrugged.
“You know your accountant is Hal Mercer’s son-in-law.”
Of course I knew who my accountant was. We used David Wolken because of my father’s relationship with Hal. Mercer’s daughter was at the helm of Titan Title beside her father. She was a couple years older than me, and her husband was several years older than she was.
“Can I at least get a nod or a grunt or something of acknowledgment?” Zegas wiped his mouth with his linen napkin.
“Did you order for me?” Patrick Whitley slid into the booth next to me and pulled my plate toward him. “Where are we at? Did you tell him that his accountant is the one who tipped off the feds?”
Zegas glared. “I was getting to that.”
I should feel something. Anger. Shock. Something. But there was nothing.
Whitley dove into my steak. “I thought he’d be more excited about this.” He grabbed my water glass. “Are you drinking this?”
“No.”
Zegas threw his hands up. “Do you get this? David Wolken has been screwing with your tax returns since you stopped doing business with his daddy-in-law.”
Finally. Something.
Irritation.
