Forsaken Duty (Red Team #9)(10)

“Of course. Thank you for the tour, Spencer.”

Owen returned to his room and contemplated his next move. He thought about contacting his team, but discarded that. When they learned where he was, they wouldn’t waste time getting there. There were things he still needed to figure out here, like what kind of illness Addy had and if it was contagious. He couldn’t bring himself to say the C-word, but it was there, at the edges of his mind. Was her hair loss due to chemo? What had they tried as far as a medical intervention? This was too damned remote of a place to make full use of all an urban medical center could provide. Jax had said she was dying. Jesus, had they given up the fight already?

How could she die when Owen had only just gotten here, when her son was still lost to her?

Owen folded his arms as he looked outside at the wintry afternoon, deciding if he did nothing else before losing her again, he’d get their son back.

To do that, he needed more time before contacting his team. Addy was in a fragile state and probably shouldn’t be exposed to too many outsiders. Even getting her out of there before he had a handle on what she was battling was a bad move.

More info was what he needed. He went up the backstairs in his wing, down the long hall to the grand stairway, then into Addy’s forbidden wing. Most of the doors were closed, but one was open. He heard voices. A child and a woman. A boy was asking the woman questions. Owen didn’t pay attention to the topic of the conversation. He couldn’t. His heart was beating too hard. Was that his son? Was Augie here? Why hadn’t anyone told him?

Anger washed through him. He almost ran to the open door of the room where he’d heard them talking. There he was. A little brown-haired boy sitting at a table with a middle-aged woman. Rage washed through Owen, quickly chased by disillusionment. Both gutted him. Was this boy his? He glared at the child, who gasped at him, which caught the woman’s attention. She stood and moved between them.

“You aren’t supposed to be here in Ms. Jacobs’ private quarters,” she said. The boy peeked at him from around the woman’s hip.

Owen didn’t answer her. His gaze dropped to the boy. He looked a little older than Zavi, but not twice his age. Augie would have been bigger. “Who are you?” Owen asked.

“I’m Troy,” the boy said. “Who are you?”

“Owen Tremaine.”

The woman dragged Troy with her over to a phone mounted on a wall. When she dialed, he slipped away, venturing over to Owen. Troy stared up at him. Owen remembered he had to look pretty scary with all of his bruises and cuts. Even so, the kid took his hand and led him over to a long, padded window bench.

“What are you doing?” Owen asked.

“Taking you to sit down. You look like my mom does just before she faints.”

Owen pulled his hand free, but did sit down. “I’m not going to faint.”

The boy stood close to him, seemingly unconvinced. He clearly had no sense of personal space, either. “Maybe you should put your head between your knees.”

“I’m not going to faint. I never faint.” Good grief. Was he really having this convo with this child? “Who are you, Troy? Who are your parents?”

“My mom’s just down the hall.” Troy’s gaze lowered and shifted to the side. A telltale sign if ever there was one. “My dad’s gone.”

Owen’s brows lowered. It was an expression that made grown men nervous, but not this boy. He seemed more at ease looking at Owen than dredging through his own thoughts.

“Who are your parents?” Troy asked, taking Owen aback.

“My parents are neither here nor there.”

“I didn’t ask where they were. I asked who they were.”

“They were Mr. and Mrs. Tremaine. And ‘here nor there’ is an expression that means they are not of consequence in this conversation.”

“Oh.”

“What’s your last name, Troy?”

He scrunched up his face. “It was Edwards, but now it’s Jacobs. My mom divorced my dad.”

Owen’s brows lifted as he gasped. Edwards? Fucking Edwards? Addy had been forced into marriage with that bastard? Her parents had to be in on it. Her dad was a senator—he could have gotten her out if he’d wanted to.

Troy crouched on the seat next to Owen and bent over to put his head between his knees. “You do it like this.” He ducked his head down, muffling his words. “It doesn’t hurt. You should do it. Your face is very white…where it isn’t purple.”

Owen was tempted. He became aware of the tutor speaking on a house phone. Her voice had been strident, but evidently whoever was on the other end of the line vouched for him. She sent him an uneasy glance, then hung up. She went into the bathroom and came out with a little glass of water, which she handed to him.

“You do look pale,” she said.

He took the water, glad that his hand was steady. “I don’t faint.” He swallowed half of it then handed it back to her. He stood and held a hand out to Troy. The boy reached for his hand and grinned up at him. “It was very nice meeting you,” Owen said.

“Will you be here long?” Troy asked. “We don’t get a lot of visitors. My mom doesn’t like them. I didn’t either, but you seem different from the others.” He stood on the bench. He was almost to Owen’s shoulders. The boy would grow into a tall man. Interesting that he didn’t resemble Edwards in the least. This child was brown-eyed with deep brown hair.