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Chapter Fifteen
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE IS ON HER WAY TO CALIFORNIA?" I shriek into the phone. Deep breaths. I need to control my temper.
I don’t like talking to this imbecile directly. Informant or not, I avoid speaking to him when possible. That’s what the encrypted emails are for. But when I received his message five minutes ago, I immediately dialed his cell phone.
"I notified you as soon as possible," he defends himself. "He sent the jet to Westbridge in the middle of the night. I wasn’t able to message until now. I didn’t have my laptop, and you said not to call you directly."
Dear Lord, his high-pitched lamenting makes me want to stab the wine opener I’m still holding in my hand into his jugular and watch him bleed all over himself. I smile at the visual forming in my head. That would be the highlight of my week.
Glancing at my white knuckles wrapped around the Code38—a gift from my sweet girl—I force myself to unclench my hand and slowly place the tool on the table in front of me. Focus.
Why is Nate bringing Lilly to California? How could that happen? That doesn’t make sense. Something must have triggered the move.
"Where is he?" I growl into the phone. What do I pay this idiot for? I’m losing patience with him.
"I haven’t been able to reach him since he woke me up. My best guess? He is on the plane."
What? Why would he risk getting seen together with her?
The closing of a door alerts me that I'm no longer alone. I turn to see Gray making his way to the cream-and-white barrel accent chair I had him pick up the day we moved into this dump. He lets himself fall into the cushion, his unkempt exterior in contrast with my clean décor. Per usual, he displays no manners and just barged in without knocking.
I hold his gaze as I speak into the phone. How do you know that the jet is not picking up Weiler?"
Gray frowns when understanding sets in. His eyes bulge for a fraction of a second before he averts them, and he begins to fidget with his black KA-BAR. It's a habit I don't believe he's aware of. He never leaves the knife out of his sight. For as long as I've known this man, he’s always had a blade with him. This particular knife is a remnant from his active military days. Maybe it makes him feel less of a failure than he is. And whenever he is nervous or on edge, he pulls it out.
I narrow my eyes at Gray. Without a word, I disconnect the call and slowly make my way across the room until I stand between his legs. When he just stares ahead, I place my pointer finger under his chin and forcefully tilt it up. He doesn't put up a fight, but the little nudge that is needed confirms my suspicion.
"Do you have anything to tell me?" I keep my tone calm, but my other hand automatically clenches at my side.
When the man I've known most of my life finally locks eyes with me, I know he is to blame for Lilly's sudden departure. I bend down and pry the knife out of his hand, slowly moving the sharp tip down his leg.
"Gray," I warn.
He draws in a breath. "I went to the little McGuire’s school. She saw me." His admission is no more than a whisper.
Without hesitation, I raise the hand holding his prized possession and bring it down on his thigh. The blade slides in without resistance, and it reminds me of that day thirteen years ago. The day I got my revenge. He also saw the knife coming, just like Gray today. But he never expected me to have the guts to pull through with my threat. My threat of cutting his eye out if he so much as looked at me again.
Gray’s spasming in front of me rips me out of the memory. He’s gripping the armrests of the chair but not making a sound. He knows better.
I let go of the hilt and straighten. Looking down, I see a speck of blood on the linen covering my legs. Just wonderful. I just bought these. I open the drawstring that holds the pants up and let them fall. Stepping out, I leave them in front of the chair and head toward the door. "Get everything ready. We're going to California."
I pull the door shut behind me and leave him to clean up the mess in my office.
