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I pull out my phone and stifle a curse. I have three missed calls from my mother. "Fuck!" I rake a hand through my hair and fist the strands.
Rhys leans over and peers at the screen. "Uh-oh. I assume you haven't gotten around to telling her?"
I glower at him, and he shuts his stupid trap.
Since we have no clue how long George will be, I hover my thumb over my mother's name before I draw in a breath, hold it, and press call.
It rings twice before a shrill voice pierces my eardrum. "Finally. Weston Sheats, what the hell is going on? Your father got a call from your aunt. She forwarded us several articles from gossip websites."
I grind my teeth. "Hi, Mom." And just like that, all my pent-up rage turns into a little boy who has disappointed his mother. My day is getting better and better.
"Don't you 'Hi, Mom' me, young man," she snaps.
"Is that Wes?" my father's voice comes from the background.
"Yes, our son finally graced us by returning my calls." She is pissed.
"Put him on speaker!" Guess he's not far behind.
"Please tell us what the press is saying is not true." Mom's tone softens.
"What are they saying?" I honestly have no idea. I have stayed off all social media and news pages since Lancaster's article.
"They say you are involved with Francis Turner's daughter."
I stand and start pacing the length of the room. Rhys doesn't stop me this time. I wanted to tell my parents in person, but had no idea when that would be. "I am."
"Weston!" Mom inhales sharply.
"Son, tell me this girl is not pregnant with—"
"She is." I don't have it in me to lie or draw it out.
There is silence on the other end, and I find Rhys's eyes. He looks at me with understanding. He's been through his own personal hell with his parents for years.
I glance at the ceiling and decide to lay it all out there. I don't have much more to lose at this point. "King and I met last year. I didn't know who she was since she doesn't use her father's last name. She knew who I was but was scared to tell me because—well, you can guess. We started dating"—okay, that's a stretch—"one thing led to another—you can guess that part as well. I figured out who her father was and drove her away for several months until Lilly found her, brought her back, and D told me to pull my head out of my ass and man up." I'm out of breath, I'm speaking so fast. "I didn't know she was pregnant until she came back, and even then, she never asked anything of me. She is the most selfless person I have ever met, and...and I love her."
More silence.
It's that moment that George walks in, and I disconnect the call before my father can chew me out for my irresponsible actions. I'll deal with that later.
"What did you find out?" My hands begin to tremble, and I cross my arms over my chest, tucking my phone into my armpit.
"They finished processing King. Lilly connected me with Agent Camden. She pulled some information—unofficially, of course. King is being accused of the murder of Isaiah Ellis, her former employer. His body was found by a hiker a few weeks after he was reported missing. Animals had unearthed the body." I fight the urge to gag at the visual forming in my mind, but George continues, unaffected. "Ellis was under investigation for gun trafficking and prostitution, suspected to be selling to a number of wanted individuals. Due to the damage the animals had caused, a thorough autopsy was performed. The cause of death was a stab wound to the neck. Ellis bled out. The knife left a unique mark on his C4 vertebrae, and it was determined that it was a curved blade." That's all George has to say.
King's Du Hoc.
"How did they tie it to King?" Rhys verbalizes what I can't.
George sighs. "She was the star attraction. She vanished around the same time as Ellis. The club's website featured several photos and videos of her dancing with—"
"Her knives," I finish for him. She told me that she was never without them. The room suddenly has gotten too hot. A sheen of sweat has formed on my forehead, and I wipe my hands on my jeans.
"Why did they not search for her publicly? Have the media do the work for them?" Rhys wonders aloud, and the mere thought of a public manhunt for King has my legs giving out. I flop into the chair behind me.
"From what I understand, it was kept a missing person case to continue the investigation of his customers and suppliers. They spun it in a way that he went into hiding."
"Genius, but fucked up," Rhys mumbles, and I want to clock him. Seriously?
