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"Is there any more blood?"
I’m gonna be sick.
"Oh no."
She still has the camera aimed on the fucking bananas.
"Denielle!" This time Dad directs his bark at her.
"Yes?" she squeaks.
"Don’t. Do. That!"
"Please show us what you see." George is the only one able to keep his cool. He is doing his job. Dad's usual military mode went out the window as soon as the words Lilly, missing, and blood were spoken.
The camera shifts, and Denielle walks closer to an object on the floor—a small chef's knife. The blade is covered in blood.
I thrust the phone at my father, who barely catches it, and drop to all fours. Retching in the middle of my father’s office, I expel the remnants of my stomach.
I don’t remember muchafter I saw the knife. Dad and Wes maneuvered me upstairs to my room, where I curled into a fetal position on the bed and watched Wes pace like someone waiting for his next fix and texting furiously. Dad said something about making phone calls and disappeared back downstairs.
It's 9:30, and I'm on a private plane—this time heading to Los Angeles. I have no clue how my father pulled this off. One of these days, I want to know what the man really does for a living.
Wes sits opposite me with Dad across the aisle. Mom and Natty came home around seven, and Dad ushered her upstairs immediately. I have no idea how much or what he told her. I couldn't bring myself to ask, either. Her face was blotchy, and her mascara was streaked when she watched us pull out of the garage. According to Dad, Natty was in her room, and they told her that we would be visiting Lilly to bring her home.
Nice way of wording it. He’s telling her the truth, but she has no idea what it really means.
Dad props open his laptop and starts typing.
Staring out the window into the dark, I ask, "Are there any updates?" My voice sounds like a stranger to my own ears. It's the first time I’ve spoken since my breakdown, and their focus is instantly on me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dad angling his body in my direction, and I turn my head to face him.
"I've been in contact with Weiler. He called earlier to inform me that his men are at the house with Denielle." He pauses, and I scan his face. His expression is blank.
Before he can continue, I interrupt. "You knew George." I don’t ask, because from his reaction, it was clear that my father had heard of the Altman head of security.
Dad chuckles. "George Weiler is a legend. He’s a...ghost. He went off the grid as soon as his feet hit U.S. soil after his last mission. No one knows what happened."
Well, well. I know something my father doesn’t.
"I do." I try to keep my face neutral but can't stop the shit-eating grin that spreads across my face. For a brief moment, I forget the reason we're on this plane.
My father raises an eyebrow, but I shrug. "Maybe he'll tell you, too."
His nostrils flare. He doesn’t like that I’m rubbing my secrets in his face, but I don’t care.
Wes interrupts our standoff. "So, uh...D has been saying one of the two dudes who showed up a while ago and are 'processing the scene' is almost as scary as G." He makes air quotes around the words. "The other one—"
"How is Denielle holding up?" My father seems genuinely concerned.
Wes shrugs. "From her texts, she's anywhere between hysterical meltdown and B.K."
Bulldog Keller.
"We should get to the address Lilly’s bodyguard gave me around midnight local time." When I don’t react, he addresses me directly. "Son?" He waits until he has my attention. "When we have Lilly back, the two of you will tell me everything. The only reason I'm not putting you into an interrogation cell is that finding my daughter has priority. The cell is still on the table, though."
He's not joking, but I just turn back around and stare out the window into the blackness.
