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“Christopher, your father has been doing this longer than you have been breathing. If he says he’s fine…”
“He’s not fine. You know he’s not fine, and regardless, if you don’t tell me what the fuck the deal is with her injury, I’m going to waste my time pushing through the hospital firewalls and security system to get the answers myself.”
Penny takes a sip of the drink in her hand, blowing out a deep breath with a shake of her head before she says, “The doctor that treated her said that the burn around the bullet wound was consistent with a close-up shot.”
“So what?” Leo scoffs beside me as Christopher looks down the corridor that runs the back of the house, towards the clatter coming from Francis’ office. “Being shot at a close range doesn’t mean anything when they were in the confinement of the car.”
“He said that the burn made it look like the wound was self-inflicted.” There’s a hesitant twist to her lips before she adds, “You know what those doctors are like. They’re forensically trained, and Harry wanted to dig deeper, and with everything else, it got messy.”
“I need to see the doctor’s notes,” I say aloud, to myself more so than anyone else. It doesn’t make sense for Lucy to hurt herself when she was so scared. “In the meantime, we need to handle this shit with Harry.”
“Please be careful,” she calls behind us as we head towards the office.
Francis is standing over his desk, the crystal tumbler Penny handed him smashed to pieces by the far wall. When I come to stand beside him, I notice the photo he’s staring down at: him, Dad, Benedict, Lucian, Harry and Charles in their graduation garments.
“I didn’t see this coming.” The statement is a low murmur. “We thought he needed space to work his shit out with Sarah.”
“If we saw everything coming, we wouldn’t be where we are now.”
Looking at me, he nods. “No, we wouldn’t.”
“Where was he?”
“The private suite at Number 10. Lucian and Ben are handling the clean-up. We need to keep this quiet so we don’t lose control. If this gets out, we’ll have political carnage on our hands. We have to make sure that Ben is geared up and ready to get in there and—”
“Francis, Benedict has that office covered by rank. Our concern right now is the press storm that’s going to follow. If there’s a chance that this is something more, now is the time to get in the driving seat and start gunning for it. Make the most of the head start we have before we have eyes all over us.”
“What head start?” Christopher throws his phone on the desk with the breaking headline announcing Harry’s shocking decease.
Fuck.
“We need to rally,” Leo says from the other side of the desk. “Sarah and the girls need to be protected.”
“Laura’s with Lucian. I’ve told him to take her to the office so we can talk to her in a neutral environment. Knowing Sarah, she won’t be far behind.”
“Let’s get weaving, then.” Leo pockets his phone and starts for the office doorway.
“Hey,” Francis calls at us when Christopher and I follow. He’s shaken up, and I can’t tell if it’s because he’s lost his friend or maybe because this is dredging the past up. Whichever it is, when he pauses in front of us, he looks almost as pallid as he did when he was bleeding all over Emily’s floor.
“The two of you stick together, you understand me?” He pats both of our faces like he used to do when we were teenagers and he’d tell us to have each other’s backs at all times at school. It didn’t matter that Christopher was three years below me, if there was any trouble, he expected us to jump in for the other.
Just like that, I know that the lead weight in my gut isn’t pessimism or my anxiety running away with itself. Francis is on full alert as he folds the photo that was on the desk and slips it into the back pocket of his jeans.
We’re following him out of the office when he turns and presses, “Brothers, remember?”
“Brothers,” Christopher repeats as I nod. “Brothers.”
Chapter 22
GEORGINA
There’s a sharpness to the air that makes it cutting as I drag another breath into my lungs, trying to ignore the pang in my chest. Freddie’s driving is jerky as he forces himself to constantly slow down. Me holding on to the sides of the seat like it’ll save us isn’t helping him right now. Forcing myself to let go, I clasp my hands in my lap instead.
“You’re all right with the plan?” he asks me as I pick at my nails. “I’m going to drop you off at the house, and you’ll have Cooper and the team with you at all times. Casper said he’s dropping Fleur and Grace off to spend the night with you while we handle everything.”
“Why can’t I come to the office with you?” The thought of being separated from him is wreaking havoc on me.
It’s never been like this with anything other than my dancing. The anxiety that I used to have when I had to miss something. The anxiety that I still have of getting injured and of it affecting my career. Freddie is the only thing that surpasses that anxiety. The possibility that he could be taken from me is an endless torment, a turmoil that I can’t quash.
