Hawk (A Stepbrother Romance #3)(58)

"Howard. I was wondering when you'd get back. Come into the office."

He walks inside and I follow. Alexis isn't here.

"I sent her off to run some errands for the rally this weekend. Only two days to go."

"Yeah."

"You're going to be there," he declares, and it is assuredly not a question. "We're going to have to cover up those inane tattoos. I don't know what motivated you to mark yourself up like that."

"Everybody in my unit got tats."

"I suppose if they jumped off a bridge…" He sighs. "Well, far be it for me to question military unit cohesion. In any case, we'll want to be properly attired for this event. I want the townsfolk to see my veteran son, of whom I am very proud," he says with a flat sarcasm, "and not a tattooed up thug."

"Right."

He slips a credit card across the desk, and a slip of paper. "Take this, go to that store and get a proper suit. It's coming off my corporate account."

Leery, I take the card and the slip of paper. There's an address. It's about two hours from Paradise Falls.

"We need to discuss your future plans."

"Do we?"

"They need to involve leaving."

"Oh?"

"Do you think I'm an idiot? I've seen you gawking at your stepsister. I know she isn't interested in you, but the last thing I need is the embarrassment of you pulling some stunt to impress her or some idiotic nonsense like that. You never did learn any self control."

I stare at him.

"Let's drop the pretense," he sighs. "Close the door."

I turn and swing it shut. It locks with a click and when I turn back he has his hand propped on the desk, and in his hand is a sleek automatic pistol, a little pocket model, a .32 or a .380, aimed right at my chest.

"When you left, I'd have had to resort to other methods, make it look like an accident. Today I think I could just shoot you and it’d be a minor inconvenience, but one I'd rather not deal with. I find the idea of killing my own blood distasteful."

"Not killing your own wife, though," I say, very softly. "Not the mother of your children. If you shoot me, you'd better use every bullet in that weapon and hope I drop before I make you eat it."

He stays perfectly still, but a single bead of sweat grows on his forehead and slides down his nose. His jaw works and he adjusts his grip on the gun, his fingers flexing.

"Why? What did she do that you had to kill her?"

"We're not having this conversation. I'm offering you a chance to walk away. On your own terms, on your own time."

"I'm not going to tell anyone about what you did."

His lip twitches. I stare at him.

"I know you'll hurt Alex if I do. If you lay a hand on her, I swear I'll do shit to you that’ll never heal, and everyone will know what you did."

He shifts his arm, looks at the gun, at me.

"Ever hear of a dead man's switch?"

"I'm familiar with the term."

I nod. "There's somebody waiting to hear from me. If they don't, people are going to find out what you did."

"You have no proof," he says. "Hearsay. You say you saw a web search from years ago."

"Maybe that's all I've got. Maybe."

"The medical examiner confirmed your mother died of a stroke. He then retired. I think if you pursue this, you'll find it's a dead end."

"Maybe," I say, softly. "Maybe that's not all this person’s been instructed to do. Maybe this person’s a certified marksman and there's a .338 Lapua slug with your name on it. You're not the only one with friends. Dad."

He swallows, his throat bobbing, red spreading on his face.

Stare him down, Hawk. Sell the bluff.

"I don't give a f*ck who the mayor of this town is," I say, very softly. "You want to win, fine. I came back here to make sure Alex is safe. You touch her, you're a dead man. You put me down, you're a dead man."

With his free hand he opens a desk drawer, and then he lays the pistol inside it and slides it closed. He takes a handkerchief from his desk and blots his forehead, and sits back.

"We're at an impasse."

"Nah, you think you've won. You think you took Alex away from me forever."

He says nothing, as still as a statue.

"That means I have nothing to lose," I tell him. "I'd best go get my suit."

I turn and walk out of the office, close the door behind me, and walk upstairs.

May pokes her head out of her room and stares at me.

"Not now," I whisper.

She grabs my arm and instead of shaking loose, I step into her room. She runs over and closes the heater vent on the floor and puts a book on it.

Her room looks like somebody put a bomb in her clothes hamper.

"You need to police this up," I whisper.

"Not now. Jesus, Hawk, I heard everything. He killed your mom?"

Fuck. May didn't know.

"Yeah." I whisper. No point in hiding it now. "He put an illegal pesticide in her coffee. It looked like a stroke."

May clutches her throat, and goes pale.

"Relax. If he poisoned you with it, you'd know by now."