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He stares at something past the camera. When his focus is back on me, he confesses, "I was on my way to the jet yesterday when I got the call about...what happened. I lost my shit. Ran out of a business meeting. George was still on his way back from Alexandria, your friends didn't pick up their phones, and there are no cameras in the locker rooms. I couldn't check on you."
George was in Alexandria?
I drop the question of why George abandoned his post—for now. It must have been something important. Or why neither of my friends mentioned that they had a missed call from my brother. They either didn't notice or didn't want to put anything else on me.
"Please don't expose yourself," I whisper. Not yet.
Nate’s eyes gentle. "You come first, little sister."
A sad smile makes the corners of my mouth turn up. "I know. But I need you...out. There are too many unanswered questions." The selfish side of me is not ready for him to go away.
He nods his head in understanding.
"What were you just doing?" I force a change in topic.
"Running. I needed to move after..." Nate trails off. I pinch my brows, and he elaborates, "I’ve been...busy. It was that or coming to Westbridge. George threatened to call my pilot if I so much as breathed in the direction of the airfield again." He rolls his eyes.
"He wants you safe as well," I say softly.
Nate inhales slowly. "I needed to distract myself, and I'm still at a dead-end with the money our father transferred. Whoever owned the account withdrew all the money. I need to try a different approach on that front." He pauses, and I wait.
I can read between the lines, though, and my pulse speeds up.
"I found Hector Lakatos."
"Who?"
"Your memory doctor."
I blink. My memory... My hand tightens around the phone, and a wave of dizziness hits me. "How?" The question is barely audible.
My brother explains, in the detached business-like tone I had become used to at the vineyard (whenever his genius mind switches to task orientation only), how he informed George about Tristen's revelation. And how our head of security put two and two together. Through George's connections, they were able to track Hector Lakatos to the continental U.S., and Nate took it from there. My brother had to keep himself distracted after the attack, and this was his contribution—he found the person who messed with my mind. According to Nate, Lakatos seems to have mostly retired from his profession and only in rare cases still makes an appearance in public. However, my brother found him—in rural Oregon, of all places.
"He set up a specific protocol of how to contact him. Even I couldn't narrow down his location further than a post office box in the middle of nowhere. He has nothing in his name," Nate concludes.
"Sounds like his choices caught up with him. Why else would he try to disappear this way?" I scoff. I mean, seriously, this guy fucked with brains for a living; I'd be surprised if more people don’t want to get their hands on him.
That makes him chuckle. "When did you become so ruthlessly sarcastic? But yes, I agree with you. He probably made quite a few enemies with his services."
"What's next?" I hold my breath as I wait for his answer. What are we going to do about the man who rearranged my memories?
"George will set up a meet. It'll take some time since he won't leave your side for the foreseeable future."
"Why don’t you contact him?" I don’t want to wait.
"George is the better choice. His name is well known in his, uh, line of work," Nate explains then switches gears. "How do you feel?"
Is he asking physically or mentally? "It hurts." Describing the actual sensation of razorblades shaving the skin off my back whenever I move won't do any good, so I add, "I want revenge. They went too far."
A joker-like grin spreads over Nate's face, but before he can respond, the door creaks open, and Rhys's head appears in the gap.
"Hey." His tone is hesitant.
"Hi." I turn away from the small screen.
His sleepy appearance makes me smile.
"The cop taking our statements will be here in a few minutes. I just wanted to see if you need anything." His gaze flicks to my exposed back.
