Mr. CEO(99)

Bo wags his tail again like he understands and runs off to the back of the house, while Darcy watches him go. “He looks like a hundred and ten-pounds of badass, but he ain't nothing but a baby,” she tells me as she opens the gate. “You scratch him behind his left ear and he'll love you for life.”

“Hint noted,” I say, giving her a hug once I'm inside the gate. “Thanks for letting me come by.”

“I knew it would happen someday. Just wish you hadn't called when I have laundry in the living room,” Darcy half-jokes as we go inside. I see the basket, but it's mostly folded, except for some toddler's clothes. Henry is napping in a partially reclined chair, his chubby cheeks puffing out with every little exhalation.

“He's even cuter than the pictures,” I whisper softly, kneeling in front. He's a beautiful little boy, Darce.”

“Yeah, but hell in my workshop,” she says with a little smile. “That boy has an unbelievable knack for being able to crack the connections on video cards that I just got lined up.”

I chuckle and sit down in front of the laundry basket, taking out a tiny t-shirt and starting to fold it. “Then I guess I should be glad you haven't brought him by. He'd have a field day with my setup.”

Darcy laughs and nods. “So what's up?”

I start folding another shirt, but the emotions are too much, and I keep fumbling it, turning the tiny little Elmo shirt into a ball. Finally, I give up and toss the shirt back into the basket, and bury my head in my hands. The tears are hot, bitter, and I don't even realize they're flowing until I can't see anymore, and I feel Darcy put her hands on my shoulders, pulling me into a hug. Her casual accent is gone, and she's back to being her normal Darcy, calm and supportive. “Shh, Baby Girl, shh... you just let yourself cry. I'm right here.”

It's been years since I last wept, so long I can't even remember it. I know it was after Virginia took me in, but that's about it. I didn't even know I could cry still, but sitting there, Darcy holding me close like I was her own child, I cry, all the pain and anger of the past twelve hours flowing out into her tank top. I don't know how long I cry, but when it's gone, I feel hollowed out, cauterized. “Thanks.”

Darcy nods and hands me a hand towel from the basket. “Here, wipe yourself down. I'd get you a tissue, but I know you hate those things. Ain't got a handkerchief around, though.”

“This is fine,” I say, wiping my eyes. “I hope Henry won't mind me borrowing it.”

“Oh, that one's Jeff's,” Darcy says with a little chuckle. “But no, he won't mind. Now, what's going on?”

“My parents... they may be alive,” I say, looking up into Darcy's big brown eyes. “At least... my father might be.”

Darcy blinks, absorbing the information. “He faked his death?”

I nod. “That's what it seems like. I got a message from a source last night, and Jackson says he confirmed it with Nathan Black. The bomb that went off, it was a ruse. They... they abandoned me.”

The words start fresh tears, more sad than angry and bitter, and I'm crying for the six years of foster care, of the decade of pitiless training, of obsession that I'm still not free of. I wipe at my eyes again, not letting myself lose control. Darcy hums, then gives me an intense look. “So you want my help?”

I nod and fold the hand towel in half to get rid of the snottiness. “Yeah. According to the source, he's living in Miami under the name Michael Ball. Now, I remember you mentioning you've got some connections in Miami. Familywise, even.”

“I do, a few cousins, an ex-boyfriend, too,” Darcy agrees. “You want me to use my resources?”

“Would you? I mean, I'll work my end, but you've got feet on the ground already in Miami.”

“Sure. For you, I'd go to Miami myself and track your daddy down. Can I ask you a question, though?”

“Shoot,” I say, reaching into the laundry basket and taking out the Elmo shirt I screwed up before. The words about my parents out, I find that I'm able to actually fold the shirt halfway decently.

“If this is true... what's that do to your plans?” Darcy asks. “You've been gunnin' for blood for a decade, but is it still worth blood?”

I think about it, then shake my head. “I don't know anymore. I know Peter needs to go down still. The entire DeLaCoeur network needs to be dismantled. But...”

“But you've got complications now,” Darcy says simply, nodding. “You're thinking about what this means to Jackson, to Andrea. And I'm going to be blunt, you're thinking more than just about what you did to Jackson.”

“I… I don't know,” I reply honestly. “It's like you said, complicated. He's an ally, that's for certain. Considering he went toe to toe with Nathan last night in boxing, he deserves at least that much.”

Darcy hums knowingly, and I give her a look. “What?”

“Nothin'. Just glad to see that you're maybe considering that there's more to life than death and revenge. Listen, if you've got a few hours, I can get to work on reaching out to my contacts now. We might have something for you by the time Jeff gets home, he's working a double today.”

“Ouch, double shifts? What's up?”