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Rumor squatted down so she was eye level with Birdie. “I was just thinking about how beautiful you are. You look like a little girl version of your brother.”
Birdie beamed at her. “That’s cause Salazar NDA is superior.”
“That’s DNA,” I corrected her, chuckling.
Rumor nodded. “I can see that.”
Birdie smiled, pleased by her response. “I like your hair. Mine won’t curl, but yours is like my favorite American Girl doll, Evette.”
“That’s high praise,” I told Rumor, who tilted her head back and smiled up at me before standing back up.
“I can’t brush her hair though, or it will ruin her curls. I did it once, and Mommy had to take it to get it fixed at the American Girl store. Can you brush your hair?” Birdie asked, frowning. “I hate brushing my hair.”
“I can’t use a brush,” Rumor told her. “I have to use a special spray or just some water and a comb.”
“Can I show you to my Maeme?” Birdie asked, completely forgetting my presence, which never happened. I’d hung the moon, where my little sister was concerned.
“She’s met Maeme,” I told Birdie. “But she is here to visit her, so why don’t we go inside?”
Birdie reached up and took Rumor’s hand again. “Come on. I know where she is,” she told her and began to lead Rumor to the house.
I followed them inside, listening to Birdie tell Rumor about her American Girl doll collection, wondering if I should rescue her or if she was enjoying herself.
“There you are!” Maeme called out, walking from the kitchen, drying her hands on her apron. “I see you met Birdie.”
“I have indeed had the pleasure,” Rumor informed her.
Maeme glanced at me, but only barely. It was enough for me to know that my father, Stellan, and Thatcher were in the basement, waiting on me.
“I need to go find Dad,” I said, and Rumor turned to look back at me. “I’ll leave you with these two.”
“Come now and help Birdie and me decorate the cupcakes that just finished cooling,” Maeme said to her, waving the two of them toward the kitchen.
I left them there and headed for the back staircase. Last night’s incident had been more than I let on with Rumor. The man they had underground right now, being watched by Storm and Wells, had finally talked after Thatcher got ahold of him. I didn’t have all the details, and I knew I needed them. Especially since it was connected to Rumor.
Stepping into the sitting area in the basement, I found my father on the far-right sofa with one ankle propped on a knee as he leaned back, staring at me. I glanced over at Stellan, who was smoking a cigar on the middle sofa and looking at his phone. Thatcher was already drinking as he leaned against the bar.
“Took you long enough,” Dad said, annoyed.
I shrugged. “I’m here.”
“She’s a good fuck, isn’t she?” Thatcher asked me with a smirk.
I shot him a warning glare and took the sofa across from my father.
“Seems we weren’t the only people Churchill Millroe tried to fuck over. He sold some other real estate that wasn’t his to sell and took the profit. Since his disappearance, those wronged are finding out that they no longer own things that they didn’t sell. Their signatures were forged. Most of them will handle it the legal way, although they will never find him.
“But it seems two grocery stores owned by the Insantos, used for laundering their drug money since that’s their MO, were sold by Millroe to a luxury food chain company in England. They want to open some of their stores in the US and have bought three buildings in the Southeast, as well as three on the West Coast and two in the Midwest. Two of the ones in the Southeast, however, belonged to the Insantos. They tracked Rumor here, but we don’t know how. The man is claiming he doesn’t know. He was sent here to see if the informant was lying or not. He said they don’t want her dead. They want her alive because they believe she has information.” Stellan stopped talking then and stared at me hard as I let all this sink in.
If Millroe wasn’t already dead, I’d go put a gun in his mouth and blow his motherfucking brains out for this.
“We make sure the Insantos know she is clueless, and we keep her here,” I stated before either he or my father could tell me the plan. No other plan was going to work for me.
My father dropped his propped-up foot to the ground and leaned forward, looking hard at me. “It’s the Insantos. They are out three million, and you think we can just tell them she knows nothing and they’ll walk away? They are looking for her husband. We killed him. They think she will lead them to him.”
I stood back up, needing to move. “Well, we tell them we killed his sorry ass and she knows nothing.”
“She’s got a magic pussy,” Thatcher drawled. “Shoulda let me do it.”
