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“And I’m supposed to believe you when you lied to get me here?”
“Would you have come otherwise?” Vance asked.
The two stared at each other before breaking the standoff with a soft chuckle that eased some of the tension.
“If you are not here to threaten me, then explain what it is you want.”
“We’re just trying to share some information so we can potentially help one another.”
“And how is it you think you can help me? From where I sit, there is a rich artist and a bodyguard before me. What use do you think either of you could be to me?”
I reached across the table and swiped the tablet to the side, bringing up another page. “Lorien has been working for a while, and he’s managed to cause a lot of trouble for a lot of people.” The screen showed an article about the death of a prominent politician who had perished in a car bombing. I slid my finger across the screen again, showing one article after another. Among them, of course, was the hotel bombing that had set us all on this course.
Her expression didn’t change, not outwardly, and she said nothing as she stared at the carnage her son had caused. This was risky, since the truth was that she was a criminal.
Would she care?
Even if she didn’t, the heat he could bring down on her might be enough, but things would befareasier if she had at least somewhat of a conscience.
“I am aware of his activities,” Pauline said, her voice still strong though an undercurrent in it said she might not be happy about it.
“They haven’t stopped. If anything, they’ve gotten worse over the years. It’s like he’s looking for a bigger thrill each time,” I said.
She released a sigh, then tore her gaze from the picture of the rubble at the hotel, the firetrucks and ambulances that had sat outside of it. It was like she couldn’t bear to look at it for long.
She swallowed loudly, then looked across the table at me. “It’s you, isn’t it?” When I didn’t answer, she continued. “Lorien has mentioned a group of people after him. That must be you, right?”
I saw no good reason to lie to her. “Yeah. That bombing there—” I tapped on the tablet again to force her to confront it. “We were caught up in this. He wasn’t after any of us, but he ruined all our lives.”
“And instead of trying to make the best you could out of what you had left, you decided to throw away the rest of your life to chase him?”
“The rest of what we had?” Vance lifted his hand, an anger in his voice. “You told me how much you appreciated my work. Do you know why I haven’t worked in five years? Thinkcarefullyabout when that bombing was.”
Pauline glanced again at the tablet, gaze searching the screen. When she found what she was likely after—the date—she had the decency to at least pale.
Vance pulled his glove off, then removed the prosthetic—something he rarely did. Then again, what better way to prove his point? “What life is left? He took everything from me, and I’m not the only one. So if you’re wondering why I would devote my years to making him pay for that, you only need to look at what’s left of my hand, then look at the painting you find so precious. It should become clear.”
Before she could respond, the door opened. I clicked the button on the side of the tablet again, darkening the screen, hiding the gory truth on it as a server walked in with a large platter of brightly colored treats.
She set it on the table, between us, but left quickly as though she could feel the tension in the air.
It left the three of us there, alone, with the truth that none of us liked.
But would it be enough?
That I didn’t know.
Chapter Six
Kenz
The house felt surprisingly empty with Tor, Hayden and Vance gone. I’d lived alone the last year—had lived mostly on my own for a while before that—yet I’d somehow gotten so used to these men that when they were gone, the house seemed too big, too quiet.
A knock on my door had me smiling. Had Char finally forgiven me? I called for him to come in, and when the handle twisted, when the door opened, my stomach fluttered.
He had that dazzling smile on, the one I’d wanted to see so badly. He held two cups in his hands, both with whipped cream and chocolate shavings piled high over the rim. “I thought you might want some hot cocoa.”
His tone took me off guard, so different from the man I was used to that I hardly recognized it—or him. However, when he handed me one of the cups, I couldn’t stop myself from taking it.
