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A proud yet venomous grin crosses my face when my dad all but lays out his pathetic life and how low Marcus has fallen. Marcus’s face turns crimson, you can metaphorically see the steam billowing from his ears. He’s been called out for the scum he is and he doesn’t have any way of arguing against it because he’s not going to win. Over fifty people will have to be laid six feet under before he can worm his way into Berkley and Berlynn’s accounts.
“If Dad hasn’t inspired you to flee, maybe this will,” I say as I step forward and toss the heavy folder onto the table where it lands with a thump. “You can keep that, it’s my backup copy. I have several in different locations and with different firms for insurance purposes. If you keep this up, I’ll drop it off at the district attorney’s office and let them prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law.”
Marcus thumbs through it, his body stiffening more with each page turned. “You’ve been holding onto this for a while now, haven’t you? Waiting for the right opportunity to try and belittle me. Each one of these instances can be explained, so why are you showing your hand?”
“They can be explained?” I ask, tilting my head to the side. “Marcus, you’re part of the drug trade now, that can’t be excused. You also were seen with Tamara Whitehorn who disappeared from Vegas after she was spotted with you and Lucinda in a casino. Where did she go? Where is she Marcus?”
He opens and shuts his mouth numerous times, moving his eyes to where he’s not looking at me because if he answers, he’ll implicate himself and his wife. Getting more pissed with each second he’s silent, I continue showing my hand by saying, “Only, Tamara, she’s not the only one missing after being seen in your company, is she? That’s only the icing on the cake in your hands, Marcus. I have much more that will be sent to the FBI if you don’t get your shit and get the fuck out of here. And when I say out of here, I mean if I ever see your face again, I will make sure you’re sentenced to do the remainder of your life behind bars.”
“This isn’t over,” Marcus spews, pointing an accusatory finger between Dad and me.
“It’s over,” I rebut.
“Let me know if you want to take me up on my offer. It may save your life if they can’t find you,” Dad states, crossing his arms across his chest as his once upon a time friend, shoulder checks him as he stomps out of the conference room, his detail on his heels. Neither of them look happy at what they've learned today. But as I said, this is only a small amount of ammunition I have on him.
“That was too easy. He left without much of an argument. It makes me uneasy. This may have been a test to find out what we know about him,” Dad says, sighing.
“That’s okay, Dad, because what I showed him is only a small pebble in the pond. If I were to release everything I have, it’d cause a ripple effect that I’d prefer not come about.” And that’s the God’s honest truth.
“Tell me more about these missing people my parents were last seen with,” Berlynn interrupts, tears in her eyes as she chews on her bottom lip.
“Shit,” I whisper as I watch those tears break free and fall down her cheeks. “We’re looking for them, Berlynn. I promise you. For now, he’s gotten away with it, but once we locate them, he’s going down.”
“That’s good to hear, but I want to know more, Aris,” she argues.
Fuck my life. I do not want her involved in this. Even the men I’ve hired are wary about the outcome and know that they’ll have a life or death fight on their hands once they’ve infiltrated the conglomerate.
“Absolutely not,” I hiss, shaking my head.
“Don’t hiss at me, Aris. You’re not a rattlesnake. Tell me.” She stubbornly stomps her foot and I know that I’ll never know a moment of peace until I give her some sort of bread crumb.
“Dammit, Berlynn!” I thunder. “This isn’t something you can get involved with. It’s dangerous and if something happens to you, who takes care of Berkley?”
“Like you, I have a long list of people willing to watch over him if something were to happen to me. Now, stop stalling and tell me!”
CHAPTER
FIVE
BERLYNN
I fibbed.Told a white lie so I could get them to open up to me.
I don’t have anyone that will watch over my twin if something happens to me outside of Mrs. Crockett, but I know Aris and he won’t tell me anything if he knows that fact. I feel responsible for these missing people that were last seen in the company of my parents. I know in my head that it’s not my cross to bear, but my heart is screaming that since the McKinny blood runs through my veins, I need to do whatever I can to help them get back home to their families seeing as mine’s the reason they’re missing in the first place.
“Tell me, Aris,” I beg. “Please.”
“Let’s have a seat while we go over this, son,” Ross says to Aris. “She may have an eye for things we’ve missed seeing as they raised her.”
I want to snort at that statement. They didn’t raise us, they abused us. We were their puppets, nothing less and nothingmore. We had maids, nannies, and chauffeurs that were more parental figures to us than the ones responsible for our births were. They were the ones who took us to our practices and sat on the sidelines cheering us on, memorizing routines and plays so that they could help us at home when we went over them. They taught us to clean up after ourselves, cook, and helped us with homework—the list is endless.
Lucinda and Marcus, well, they were too busy with their social calendar to give a damn about their children. They only had us because it was part of the stipulation to gain their own inheritances from their parents. The assholes were born with silver spoons in their mouths and acted like it. Yes, Berkley and I had nice things, but what we wanted more was their attention, their adoration, and five minutes of their time for guidance.
Mom never went shopping with me for my prom dress, that was all Tallulah Davenport, Aris and Addison’s mother. Ross did the tux thing with the guys, and they’re also the ones who took us shopping when the new school year was approaching. They also signed our permission slips, since somehow, Marcus and Lucinda gave them permission to do so with the administration. They couldn’t even be bothered enough to give us their signature on a slip of paper. The only reason they ever knew about our grades was due to our scheduled monthly dinners with the Davenports where they’d gloat on us. It was always funny to watch the surprise coat our parents’ faces when they found out how well we were doing academically.
We always thrived underneath the Davenport’s doting and supportive attention as well as the abundance of compliments we always received from them. At the end of the day, they’re the ones we worked hard to impress. Which is why losing them the way that we did cut me to the core. They’re the ones I alwayswanted to pick up the phone and call whenever I succeeded at something or Berkley hit a milestone in his recovery.
Someone clearing their throat is what pulls me from my musings and thrusts me back into the here and now. Robotically and subconsciously, I make it to the table and sit myself in one of the seats surrounding it.
