Cracked Kingdom (The Royals #5)(85)

"We need to get closer,” I whisper.

The girls nod in agreement. We all get to our feet and make our way through the woods until we're just off the edge of the parking lot. We drop to our knees just in time to see another car drive in.

“That’s my dad,” Hart says.

“Where’s Callum? Or the guys he hired?” Ella hisses.

“No clue.” I look around. “Maybe over there.” I point to the other side of the lot where a concession stand and a bathroom sit in near darkness. I can’t make anyone out. My attention veers back to the cars.

The two men climb out and then stand about twenty feet apart. It reminds me of a bad Western movie. Maybe they’ll shoot each other. That’d solve a lot of problems.

I give myself an internal slap. Neither of these girls need to see their fathers die. Get it together, East.

"We need to get closer,” Hart says in a hushed tone.

She starts to move, but I drag her back. "You can't. They'll see you."

“I want to hear what they’re saying.”

“Wait. Something is happening. East, get the camera.”

I pull it out and point it toward the men. Too bad I don’t have a mic. It’s hard to see much detail in the green wash of the night vision lens. I begin to have second and third thoughts that pictures and audio and messages are actually going to do anything. Hartley’s dad has obviously been selling his services for years. At least three times, if not more. Even if we get this evidence, won’t he get free? Won’t he conveniently lose it?

I shift the lens back to Steve, who walks to the back of the Tesla and pops the trunk. Shortly after, Hart’s father appears in the frame. They both lean in.

“Are you getting this?” Ella tugs on my sleeve.

“Yes.”

I crawl forward on my elbows to get a better shot. I snap a few pictures of them peering into the trunk. This is shit evidence, I decide. Pictures of people looking into vehicles are not going to carry an ounce of weight. We need something more. I need a photo of the bag and the men in the same frame. I inch closer.

“Gold bars?" Hart’s dad half-shouts, or at least he’s loud enough that his voice carries to us. "I can't convert this. I told you I wanted cash."

"My accounts ... frozen ... case is over," Steve replies. He points to the gold as if it’s normal to be storing gold bars in the back of a Tesla.

Mr. Wright curses and then stomps off. I hold my breath. Is the deal falling apart over this? How stupid is Hartley’s father? He could easily take those bars to a broker and exchange them for cash if that’s what he wants. My earlier feelings of dread come roaring back.

“I have cash,” a third man announces.

Everyone startles.

Steve digs into his coat pocket. Mr. Wright stumbles backward in surprise. Behind me, I hear two shocked gasps. I’m too stunned to move or make a noise.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Steve exclaims.

My own father steps forward. He holds out his arms, a black bag in each of them.

“I’m here to offer you a deal, Steve. You don’t want to go to prison, but if you’re free, Ella isn’t going to be able to sleep one solid night on her own. I can’t have that.” There’s a pause. “I owe you a lot. You’re my best friend…but my kids are more important.” Callum sets one of the bags down and then walks across the lot and drops another bag. Raising his voice so everyone can hear him, he says, “In that bag is a new identity and enough cash to set you up nicely. I’ll wire you money once a month so that you can live however you want, as long as it is far away from Ella. All I want in exchange is the recordings I know you have of each and every conversation you had with Wright.”

Hart’s dad makes an angry noise in his throat. No one pays him any attention.

Callum points to his feet. “This one is just cash. This is for you, Wright. It’s a down payment on the five-million-dollar bonus you will be paid for successfully prosecuting Steve O’Halloran.”

During my dad’s show, the two girls have crawled up to join me at the edge of the lot.

“What the hell is he doing?” Ella hisses.

Dad’s pitting the two men against each other, but I don’t know what option he wants. Me, I want them both to suffer. Where’s that solution? I want bag number three.

Time slows as two terrible people consider their options. I count my heartbeats as the seconds tick by. Beside me, Ella becomes motionless. I don’t think she’s even breathing. Hart grips my shoulder. It’s like a scene out of a bad Western. A semi-hysterical laugh catches in my throat. This is ridiculous. I half expect a banjo to start playing in the background.

Mr. Wright clears his throat. “I’ll take the money.”

“The hell you will.” Steve dips his hand into his coat pocket and out comes the gun.

One of the girls gasps. I push their heads down, but it’s too late. All three men’s heads swivel toward us.

“Goddammit, Callum. What have you done?” Steve growls. The barrel comes up and I jump out of the hiding spot.

Bone-deep fear spurs me forward. Steve took my mom. He’s not taking my dad, too.





Chapter 32





Hartley