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“Your father will have objections to this.”
“My father will no longer be a problem soon,” I assured him, ignoring Bailey’s mild gasp from next to me. “As soon as he hands over the reins, he’s taking a nice long trip to Ireland. He won’t be a problem.”
The senator nodded his head once, seemingly appeased.
“I’m sure we can work something out, then,” he glanced at my lapel. “I see you’ll be bidding at the auction.”
I nodded. “My brother and I are looking for something to share.”
Crowe chuckled. “Then we can discuss business there,” he assured me. “Hammer out all the details.” He glanced at Bailey, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “I won’t be bidding, but I have a nice piece I’m putting up on the auction block.”
“I’ll be sure to keep my eyes open.”
Crowe smirked.
“You do that.”
“Wait—” Bailey tugged at my sleeve, tears welling in her eyes. “Please don’t—”
I brushed her off before she could finish. She stumbled back, her heel catching on the hem of her dress. With a small cry, she landed on the tiled floor in a heap, tears streaming down her face. I had to keep myself from flinching when her father’s men tugged her up from the floor and proceeded to drag toward the door.
“Wait, Kiernan. You don’t understand!” she cried as they dragged her from the room, her father following closely behind. “Kiernan, please. Let me go! Kiernan, don’t let him take me away. He isn’t who he—”
Silence fell as the doors slammed shut behind them.
The room suddenly felt cavernous and lonely. My chest stung, a sharp ache spreading through me as I struggled to maintain the little composure I had left. I took a cleansing breath, my head tilting toward the ceiling, eyes closed as I tensed and relaxed my muscles.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and for a moment, I considered not answering it. Until I remembered that it could be important.
“Yeah?” I answered without bothering to look at the caller ID.
“Kiernan.” Bridgett’s voice was urgent. “Please tell me you haven’t done the trade yet.”
“They just took her away,” I told her. “Why?”
“I’ve been doing all the digging I could on Toph Eriksen’s missing daughter,” she rushed. “And you’re not going to believe what I stumbled on to.”
My hand clenched around the phone.
“What?”
“Bailey Jameson is Toph Eriksen’s missing daughter,” Bridgett told me. “Richard Crowe kidnapped her when she was only three years old.”
No. That couldn’t be true.
“I’m running a DNA analysis just to be sure, but everything I’ve gathered points to her.”
Motherfucker.
What had I done?
31
“Kiernan?” My voice cracked as I said his name into the darkness that surrounded me. My throat was dry, my head heavy, and a weird metallic taste invaded my senses. “Kiernan!”
Jesus, did I get run over by a semi-truck?
What happened? The last thing I remember was slipping the USB drive to Kiernan, and then my father—
