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“But not my father. I’m sure he’s out and about, waving his middle finger in the air, and taking every opportunity to step into harm’s way.”
“I don’t know where your father is, but when I last spoke with him, he was looking for a traitor, not inviting trouble. Whatever is going on is serious. He knows you’re safe, but you should call to tell him yourself.” He hands me the phone. “It’s already connected to Wi-Fi.”
The last time I spoke with my father, he lied to me. A lie that could have gotten Rafael killed. My stomach rebels, the acid tickling my throat. What if I had shouted for my guards?
Any number of things could have gone wrong, and Rafael would be dead. I realize my father was trying to protect me, but the price of that protection was too damn high. I couldn’t have lived with myself if something had happened to him—especially because of me.
With the possibilities swirling inside my head, coiling my anxiety tighter and tighter, I enter my father’s number.
“I hope you’re not calling because you already lost my daughter, Huntsman,” my father snarls. “Because I will put that bullet in you that I promised.”
It begins as a giggle, bubbling in my chest and spilling out all over the room until I’m nearly hysterical. It’s not at all funny, but I can’t stop. My pent-up emotion refuses to be bottled any longer. It wants an outlet, and it doesn’t care that Rafael is staring at me like I’ve gone mad.
“Lexie?” my father says sternly. “Is that you?”
“Ye—yes,” I manage. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit out of sorts. It’s been a wild night.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, his tone as gentle as he can be.
“I’m fine,” I assure him, even though I’m an emotional wreck. “What’s going on in London? I’m worried about Mum—and you.”
He draws a breath. “Is Rafa there?”
“Yes. We’re in the conference room on his plane.”
“Anyone else there?”
“No.”
“Shut the door and put the phone on speaker, sweetheart.”
12
LEXIE
“What’s the word, Will?” Rafael asks after putting us on speaker.
“Tyler Worthington is the traitor,” he sneers.
I gasp and glance at Rafael, whose brow is knit tightly. Tyler is—was—the man my father groomed to take over his operation when he retired—or if something happened to him in the interim. I have no brothers. No cousins. And I don’t have a dick that’s not battery operated, so I would never be considered for the position. Not that I have any interest in being a crime boss.
“I’m so sorry, Dad. I know how much you liked him.” How much you believed in him. The betrayal is stunning.
“Was he acting alone?” Rafael’s concerned about whether the head of the snake has been cut off or if there’s more trouble out there biding its time.
I’m worried too—mostly for my parents, especially my father, who is vulnerable if there are traitors in the inner circle.
“It’s too early to know. There are a handful of foot soldiers he turned, for sure, but he had enough power, and my backing, that he didn’t need to turn too many people to stage a quiet coup.”
“He kill the flight attendant?” Rafael asks.
“It was done on his order, and he paid some gang members to cause problems for us last night.”
“Cristina’s dead?” I ask my father in a wobbly voice.
“Cristina’s fine.”
Cristina’s fine. Cristina’s fine. Relief floods me, but before my spirits are lifted, it hits me. “Which flight attendant is dead?”
