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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHARLOTTE
Inside the lavish second-floor suite at the mansion I was taken to, Erik checked his watch, then removed what appeared to be a hearing aid from his ear, but maybe it was a communication device. He shoved it into his pocket, and we were finally alone for the first time since we’d flown to the new location.
“Why aren’t we just leaving? Why even bring me here if you don’t want me near Brant?” Standing by the king-sized bed, I clutched the white dress Jordan had shoved at me to put on before he’d left the room to let Brant know we were waiting for him.
“Jordan and his men wouldn’t have let me run away with you and Lucy. I had no choice but to come here. And you saw how heavily guarded this place is. Almost all of Brant’s men are here, which will make the task of your friends saving your sister much easier.” Erik kept his voice low as he went over and drew the floor-to-ceiling curtains open, exposing two French doors. He unlocked and opened them, allowing a gentle breeze into the room, the smell of the Caribbean Sea wafting in with it.
But wait, what? “What do you mean?” I tossed the dress to the side, thankful it was a simple and plain silk sheath rather than wedding-white and frilly.
Erik pushed his hands into his pockets and faced me. Was he really my father? Was it possible? “You had a bracelet on when you exited the helo. Not one when we got back on. You were being tracked,” he remarked in a steady tone. “But when Jordan reaches out to his men to check on them, and no one answers, he’ll tell Brant to evacuate here as a precaution.”
Oh. I was starting to feel strangely numb. Less breathy and panicky as I’d been before, but I wasn’t sure why given the fact a man obsessed with me would be in the room in a few minutes. Maybe because some part of me believed Erik was my father, and despite not knowing me, he appeared to give a shit about me.
“Tell me you have a plan to get me away from him, then.” Okay, hello, panic, again. Because the blank look on Erik’s face had my stomach turning.
“I can’t kill everyone here. I’m only one person. And my brother’s men are loyal. Money won’t do the trick in getting them to turn. Not everyone can be bought.” He squeezed his eyes closed. “I’m hoping your men manage to track us here before it’s too late.”
“You’re hoping my . . .” I blinked, shaking my head in shock. “Did you leave some clues, at least?”
“This is the only property that’s been rented in the last two days with a helipad. If they’re smart, they’ll connect the dots.” He opened his eyes, angling his head. “Are they smart, Charlotte?”
“They’re smart.” But if they’ll be able to find me so easily, why do I die? What happens between now and then? Crossfire? No, Jack would be careful. That can’t be it. And I refuse to believe Jack died in that tunnel, so he’ll be coming. So then, what? Shit, why am I thinking about how I’ll die instead of focusing on how NOT to die? “Tell me everything, though. Please. I want to understand why this is all happening.”
He came closer to the bed, and when I flinched at his proximity, he walked back a step. I had to remind myself he still worked with Brant, a psychopath. And he himself was a criminal. He’d killed that Fed without remorse, so he was dangerous, too.
“I’ve known your mom since we were both sixteen. We boosted cars together. One night when we were eighteen, well, the adrenaline got to us, and . . .” He cleared his throat, letting me fill in the “we had sex” blanks. “She told me a few weeks after that she met someone and wanted to straighten out her life. When I found out she was pregnant, she promised me you weren’t mine.” He was talking fast, no doubt because we were short on time, but I could detect the slip of emotion edging into his tone. My brain was trying to play catch-up and truly comprehend what he was trying to tell me. Everything I’d ever thought I knew was a lie. “Claudia cut me out of her life, and it wasn’t until your—well, the man who raised you—died that I made the biggest mistake of my life . . . If I had just left her alone and not pushed her into working with me again, she’d be alive. And you’d be living a very different life.”
This was too much to process. My head was spinning. I started to sit, but then a framed photo on the dresser caught my eye. I went over to it and lifted it with trembling fingers. Mom standing by her Mustang, stunning in silk, her hair curled, framing her high cheekbones.
“I took that photo of her.” Erik came up alongside me. “The day she bought that car. She’d been so excited to have one she hadn’t stolen.”
“But the money was dirty. Same thing.” Now I sounded like Lucy.
Erik took the photo from me and set it facedown on the dresser. “For the first few years your mother worked with us, things were fine. She did what she had to do to earn enough to support you and Lucy. Nothing more.”
I faced him, realizing he was defending her, just like I had over the years whenever Lucy and I talked about her.
“But then the jobs got riskier. And the higher the risk, the higher the reward. My brother built his business off the backs of others’ success.”
“Stolen success.” A dejected feeling cut through me, and it was hard to digest the fact I’d once envied my mom’s “job” and had considered it a suitable career path.
Erik looked up at the ceiling as if unable to meet my eyes as he told me the rest. “About a year before she died, my brother started developing an unhealthy obsession with her. She didn’t return his affections, and that only triggered him more. I tried to protect her as much as I could, but when you started pushing to follow in her footsteps, well, I’m assuming that’s why she tried to fake her death and run away. If she’d told me her plan, I could’ve helped her.”
You loved her, didn’t you?
“I tried to stop Jordan from forcing you to drive in your mother’s place for the heist, but I was overruled. And then when . . . well, everything went down . . . Your mother’s last words to my brother were a plea not to kill you because you were his niece.”
Oh, God. That’s what she said? I remembered her whispering something while clutching hold of Brant as he’d held her, crying.
“I told him she lied to try and save you, but he wanted proof. He took the blood from the knife he cut you with and threatened to . . . well, destroy both of us if the woman he loved had a child with me.”
“What’d you do?” This was all so wild, but so many things were adding up.
“Money can thankfully buy some people off, and I paid the guy at the lab to give me the real results and offer my brother an alternative. The test confirmed you were my daughter. And now I know why she did her best to limit my time around you. She knew I’d quickly see the truth in your eyes. Given my family, I don’t blame her for not wanting me to know.”
He was right. The truth was right there in front of me. And I would’ve figured it out back then. We share blood, and that means I’m related to Brant, too.
