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Instead of waiting for me in the office or his own, he stands outside my office door. His body language screams tension: head down, cracking his knuckles, practically vibrating with nervous energy. He may even be talking to himself under his breath.
He looks up upon hearing me coming and clears his throat. “I thought you might want to clean up what you left in here last night.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I shove the door open and walk into the room to confirm I hadn’t dreamt of cleaning up the glass and whiskey mess I made, even as drunk as I was. What the hell is he… it’s then I notice what’s caught his eye. Bianca's panties are still on the floor where she left them.
I'm quick to snatch them up and tuck them into my pocket. “Okay, Grandma. You can come in now.”
“Excuse me for trying to be a respectful gentleman.”
All that earns him is a grunt. “You're back to being respectful? That's good to know.”
Instead of taking the bait the way I almost hope he will, his frown deepens. “I, um...”
Contrary to what I told Bianca, I feel like fried shit after trying to drown my liver in whiskey. I don’t have the energy for a rehash right now. “Out with it. You said things you shouldn't have said last night. I wasn't at my best, either. However, I think from now on—”
“This isn't about that,” he insists, cutting me off before I've had the chance to finish. Considering he knows how much I wouldn't say I like being interrupted, this must be big. Either that, or he’s insanely stupid.
“What the fuck is it, then? You’ve caught me on a day when my patience is even thinner than usual.”
“It’s about the call that came in from Kristoff’s father. He’s starting to worry about his kid.”
Fuck. No wonder he looks like he would rather eat razor blades than have this conversation. I sink into my chair with a sigh, rubbing my temples against a worsening headache.
“Kristoff. I almost forgot about him.”
“Unfortunately, we don’t have the luxury of doing that.”
“And whose fault would that be?”
His jaw tightens as he lifts his chin. “We’ve been down this road already. I did what I felt needed to be done–and you’ve kept him in the warehouse all this time. We could have dismissed this as a mistake, a mere mix-up.”
He’s right, as much as I hate to admit it. I’ve had fun making that bastard wish he’d never been born. I won’t pretend otherwise. “Let’s be honest with ourselves. It was over as soon as you picked him up at the hangar. There’s no taking that back.”
He accepts this without flinching. “He’ll expect a callback. In this guy’s eyes, his kid is still Tatum’s boyfriend.”
Shit. “I can’t have him reaching out to her and dragging her into this mess.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
“Which means I need to put out this fire before it gets out of control.” And to think the morning started out so well. One of the nicest I can remember. Don’t I know by now how fleeting such moments are?
“Here. I wrote down his number.” He fishes a slip of paper out of his jacket pocket and slides it across the desk. “Call him before he calls Tatum.”
I bristle at the almost condescending tone–I don’t need him to remind me what’s at stake–before picking up the receiver of my desk phone and dialing the number. Jefferson Knight picks up on the first ring, and the tension in his voice jumps out immediately. “Callum. Thank you for returning my call.”
I exchange a look with Romero. “Of course. I understand you’re concerned about Kristoff. What’s the matter?”
“Has he been in contact with Tatum? I attempted to reach her earlier but didn’t get an answer.”
I never imagined feeling grateful for her penchant for sleeping in. She doesn’t need this man in her ear spewing dog shit. “I wouldn’t know. Her relationship isn’t my business.” Romero barely stifles a snort, earning a sharp shut the hell up look from me. “Is something wrong? Is he in trouble?”
“I haven’t seen him since the day before they left to go on the trip.”
Hmmm. Strange. “Tatum did mention that he said he was going to stay behind for a couple more weeks..” After sponging off her for weeks and brutalizing her for… I shudder to think how long. I must remind myself that this is not Kristoff I’m speaking to. Sure, the son of a bitch raised a rapist who’s suffering at this very minute, even though we can’t always control what our children do.
“He should’ve been home more than a week ago. I have no way to contact him, and I don’t have the first idea who he was with after Tatum went home.”
