Sins, Lies & Spies (Black Brothers #2)(57)

A weighted sigh escaped her lips. “Thanks for everything, Knox Black.”





CHAPTER





THIRTY-ONE


Trinity



“Uncle Mac?” I smiled faintly, tilting my head to the side, and he frowned. “What are you doing here?”

My uncle glanced over his shoulder and popped up the collar of his worn black leather jacket. He looked exactly as I remembered except he had a few more wrinkles around his eyes and his beard was more gray than strawberry blond these days.

His eyes narrowed. “You look like shit.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “Well, thanks. So do you.”

He didn’t say anything my reflection hadn’t told me when I looked in the mirror this morning. My eyes were puffy from crying myself to sleep. I hadn’t bothered with makeup, and I’d barely run a brush through my hair, but he didn’t need to point it out. Not that his comment shocked me. He’d always been blunt and to the point.

“That’s no way to talk to your uncle. I haven’t seen you in over three years. Why don’t you invite me inside?”

I twisted my leather bracelet around my wrist, not answering him for a second. After Knox had left last night, I sent dozens of texts to Derrick, begging him to meet me today. After thirty minutes of back and forth messaging, I threatened to reveal our connection with or without his support. He finally responded this morning with a brisk text instructing me to come to his house at one o’clock sharp.

“I was just about to leave. I have an appointment soon.”

“This won’t take long. I need to tell you a few things about your mother.”

My heart skipped inside my chest. “Hold on. Let me get my purse and we can grab a coffee.”

“You’re wasting your money on that shit.”

I rolled my eyes. “My coffee machine is broken.”

The carafe had been one of the victims of the ransacking of my apartment. Instead of running out for coffee, I’d spent the morning composing and deleting texts to Knox. In the end, I turned off my phone without sending anything. What could I say? Nothing had changed since last night.

“So tell me about Mom,” I said, as we walked down the front steps of my townhome.

“First, I want you to tell me why you look like you spent last night crying.”

I huffed. “I had a fight with some guy I’m seeing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

He hooked one arm around my shoulder. He still smelled like leather and cigarette smoke. “You’ll figure it out, and if he’s stupid enough to walk away from you, then good riddance.” His eyes swept over my face. “You’re even more beautiful than your mother. Did I ever tell you that?”

I chuckled weakly. “I don’t think you ever told me much of anything about my mom. You preferred to pretend like she didn’t exist,” I said, purposely changing the subject because I didn’t want to think about how my cowardice may have spoiled any chance I had with Knox. Just thinking about him, what I did, and what we could’ve had made me the kind of miserable that ate at my gut like I had swallowed a gallon of acid. When I woke up this morning, sadness wrapped around my body like a shroud. I couldn’t stop replaying the look on his face when I asked for space.

“Yeah. You’re right.” His arm slipped from my shoulder and he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

I yanked open the door to the coffee shop at the end of my block. The coffee they served tasted more burnt than anything else, but my caffeine-fueled withdrawal had resulted in a dull ache inside my head, so I couldn’t be picky. “How’s Faith?”

He shrugged, his leather jacket creaking. “About the same. She doesn’t come around much, but you probably already know that.”

I ordered a large black coffee and stuffed the change into the tip jar. “I don’t hear from her much either, except an occasional text about tuition.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, his lips spreading into a thin line. “I didn’t think so. She was pretty pissed when you moved to D.C.”

We settled into a booth at the back of the coffee shop. I stared at him over the rim of my paper cup. “Are you going to talk about my mom or did you change your mind?”

He leaned forward, sliding his elbows over the table. “I should have told you this before you moved to D.C., but I didn’t want to worry you.” He blew out a breath. “The day your mom disappeared, she planned to meet up with someone who represented your biological father. She said he agreed to a financial settlement in exchange for her silence. She was over the moon.” He shook his head, his gaze drifting to the side. “She had all these plans for you and Faith. She wanted to buy a house and put down some roots instead of floating around.”

I curled my hands around the edge of the table. “So what happened?”

“I don’t know for sure.”

I twisted the coffee cup sleeve. “What do you think happened?”

He scrubbed his hand down the side of his beard. “I think Richard Benton had her killed.”

My hand jerked and my coffee tipped over. Brown liquid spread across the table. My hands shaking, I tossed a stack of napkins on the table, blotting up the mess. “That doesn’t make any sense,” I whispered, my gaze fluttering from table to table looking for anyone eavesdropping on our conversation.