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Bexley’s pulse spiked.
“Dude, like I’d take counseling...”
Don’t say it.
“...from my mom.”
Ty’s smirk turned somber. “What’s that?”
Bexley couldn’t hide it. Didn’t want it to play out like this.
“This is Josiah. My son.”
Chapter Three
My son.
Those two words echoed through Tiberius’s brain.
Time froze and the room slanted as Ty scrutinized the gangly teenager. About six foot. Two inches shorter than Ty. Dark curly hair like his mother’s. Completely untamed too.
But his eyes.
Like green diamonds. Tiberius’s eyes.
“How...how old are you?” he managed to ask, but his mouth had turned into a massive wad of cotton.
“I think it’s time for you to go, Agent Granger.” Bexley’s bottom lip trembled, and her eyes were shifty. This truth could not be masked, and she wore it like a neon sign across her pale face.
Ty was staring at his son.
He had a son.
A son.
His entire world shifted, and he ran a damp palm over his mouth and nose. This kid belonged to him, and he had never known. Might not have ever if their case hadn’t brought them to North Carolina.
Another chilling thought forced its way into his mind. What if he wasn’t his? What if he was... No. He refused to let himself go there. The possibility punched his gag reflex. It was too much. Like a double-edged sword being thrust through his middle, taking its time entering and exiting.
But he had to know either way.
“I don’t think it is,” he said.
Josiah frowned. “Mom, you didn’t answer your cell phone, again. Thought I’d come by to clue you in that I’m alive and to remind you that if you want me to answer my phone, you might want to lead by example.”
Bex’s lips pursed, and she darted a glance at Ty. “I’m with someone right now.”
“Yeah, story of my life. You work on weekends and holidays. Whatever,” he muttered, then started for the door.
Apparently, the kid needed a class in manners. Did she always allow him to talk this way to her?
Josiah paused at the door. “Wait.” He eyed Ty. “Dude, who are you again?”
“I um...” He cleared his throat and shook his head, running a hand through his hair and trying to gain composure. He retrieved his credentials. Couldn’t say he was his father. Maybe his brother. “I’m Agent Granger with the FBI.”
“Aunt Ahnah?” he whispered, and his hand fell from the doorknob. Even his voice sounded like Ty’s. Did the kid notice?
“She’s still missing, but yes, I’m here about her. Do you know anything that might help me?”
