The Fearless King (The Kings #2)(9)

Her mother might have been a different kind of monster, but at least she kept the larger threats at bay with her presence. Journey gave herself a sharp shake. She couldn’t afford to think like that. “He’ll leave,” she repeated.

“I’m not so sure, Jo. He’s different this time. Focused. I don’t like it.”

“Me, either.” She grabbed her favorite pen and tapped it against the desk. “When will you be in?”

He chuckled. “I’m here now.” Footsteps sounded down the hall, and then her office door opened to reveal her older brother. Anderson hung up and stepped into the room.

He looked so much like their father, it made her heart stop for several eternal seconds, but just like she had every time before, she focused on the differences. Anderson and Journey had their mother’s mouth—generous but far quicker to frown than to smile in genuine warmth. Journey fought against the inclination, but Anderson had never bothered. He was taller than their father, too, and broader. Both her brothers leaned more King than Bancroft when it came to how deceptively large they were. Anderson hid it with expensive suits cut to minimize his sheer size. Bellamy didn’t bother.

He shut the door carefully and took her in. She could actually feel him categorize the darker shadows beneath her eyes, the way her hand shook—just a little—and how lackluster her hair was after skipping her routine yet again. “You look like shit, Jo.”

And he looked like he normally did—cool and in control. Anderson had always hidden his fear better than she had. Or maybe he truly didn’t fear Elliott anymore. Maybe she was the only one who did. Aren’t you a little ray of sunshine this morning? She cleared her throat. “Wow, thanks. I’ll make sure to remember your supportive words when I shop for your Christmas gift.”

He raised his eyebrows. “It’s February.”

“You don’t say.” She gave a mock gasp. “Only ten months to go. Anderson, I’d be really careful about playing your cards right or it’s going to be 2007 all over again.”

His lips quirked at the reference to the year she’d bought him a pony and then badgered him until he took a picture riding it—which amounted to him standing over the tiny beast with a put-upon expression. It was one of her favorite pictures of her brother, one of the few times he wasn’t perfectly put together.

He bypassed the chairs opposite her desk and rounded them to pull her into his arms. “I’ll find us a way through this, Jo. I promise.”

She closed her eyes and inhaled her brother’s expensive cologne—the same stuff he’d used for damn near fifteen years. Here in the safety of his embrace she could almost believe that Anderson would take care of everything. Again. Journey allowed herself one last deep inhale, and then she took a step back. “Maybe we need to look at the possibility that there isn’t a convenient way through this. What if he was just waiting for something to take out Mom so he could step in?” The thought raised the small hairs on the back of her neck.

She’d never put much consideration into her father’s intelligence—he didn’t need to be smart to destroy lives—and her mother didn’t have much respect for him. When Journey was ten, Lydia had come home unexpectedly from a work trip and found her four children in the midst of one of Elliott’s more creative punishments. He had them running around the house under the hot August sun for hours. By the time Lydia showed up, Eliza had fainted from heatstroke, and Anderson was carrying her as best he could.

Elliott never spent another night in that house.

Journey still didn’t know what Lydia had done to run him out of Houston so effectively. Her mother didn’t talk about it, and they were hardly going to bring it up. The end result was the only thing that mattered—he was gone and they were safe.

Until they weren’t.

Her phone pinged, and then Anderson’s did the same. The sound snapped her back to the present. She couldn’t afford to let in the ghosts of their past. Her brother needed her focused and standing at his side instead of cowering behind him. Journey turned to grab hers, forcing a laugh. “You still have that same notification for emails? Anderson, we talked about this. It sounds like freaking dial-up internet.”

“It’s nostalgic.” He tapped out the pass code for his phone.

“It’s enough to give me anxiety just hearing it.” She opened her email and stopped short. “What the hell?”

“That fucking bastard.”

She ignored her brother, scrolling through the extensive email as she read. She went back to the top and read it again, part of her not quite believing this professional cutting down had been delivered by her father. “He…What? He’s vetting the board? We are the board.” When Lydia was still in Houston, the three of them had effectively run the company, hauling the board in to vote only when strictly necessary. The members of the board were figureheads at best, which was the way everyone preferred it. Why the hell did they need to be vetted?

Her phone rang, and she stared at it like it was a live snake. “He’s calling.”

“Answer and put it on speaker.” Anderson moved to her back. He didn’t touch her, but he silently offered his support by sheer proximity.

She obeyed. Journey forced her spine straight. It’s just a phone call. He’s not here…except he is here. We’re not safe anymore. We never really were. “Early morning for you, considering your drinking problem, Elliott.”