Vain (The Seven Deadly, #1)(75)

He was running Masego by himself, while overseeing construction, arranging for meal preparations, and so on and so on and so on. He was stretched thin, very, very, very thin.



Which is why I hadn’t mentioned his mom ringing me a few days after we’d buried Karina...



“Hello?” I asked, not recognizing the number on my sat phone.

“Miss Price, this is Abri Aberdeen.”

I was perplexed. “Hello, Miss Aberdeen. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Thanks. I need to talk to you.”

“I figured as much since you’ve rang my sat phone. It must be fairly important for you to be calling now,” I nettled, “seeming as we just buried Karina. Did Ian let you know?”

“Yes, yes,” she flippantly acknowledged, “I’m very sorry and all that but...” And all that? “I needed to speak with you.” My blood boiled in my veins.

“I can see that it must be urgent then. Is there something the matter?”

She cleared her throat. “I, well, I need to be blunt with you, Miss Price.” She paused.

“Go on.” What? Do you need an invitation? Or are you hesitating because you know you’re about to do irreparable damage?

A lazy, curling unease settle throughout my entire body and I tensed, preparing myself.

“I need to know the extent of your relationship with my son.”

“I’m sorry?” I guffawed.

“Are you with him? Together?”

I choked on my own words. “Why would you need the clarification? What is it any business of yours?”

“Because!” she exclaimed, all politeness evaporated. “Do you know who I am? Know my political aspirations? If the media caught wind that you, of all people, were with him, they would have a field day with it! I can’t afford this right now. I need all media outlets in my corner. I’m the leading candidate right now!”

I barely smothered the scream ready to erupt from my throat. “Abri,” I said in the most collected voice I could conjure, “I don’t have time for this right now. We just buried Karina. Do you know how much she meant to your son? And we're relocating the entire orphanage, Abri. Excuse me if I’m not able to see how important this election is to you. Truly, I hope the best for you but the fish in my fry pot are so big, the oil is spilling over, burning everything in its path.”

“What if I could fix it for you?” she asked, her voice tinged with desperation.

“What could you possibly do?” I asked, curious.

“I have political ties in L.A. I can arrange for you to come home early. Would that be enough?”

“You’re kidding me. You must be.” I laughed. “Abri, I’m sorry but I don’t need nor do I want your “help”. I would stay here regardless if you got me a reduced sentenced. I need to go. Have a good day.”

“One more thing, then,” Abri said, her voice seething. “Leave Ian be or I will cut him off. He will never again see a dime from me.” Then she hung up.



I’d hung the sat phone up, shaking from how angry she’d made me. Bribery! Threats! I’d hung up with her that evening trying very hard not to feel the restlessness our conversation had given me. I wasn’t joking with her, I had about a million things on my plate.

Little did I know, her unreal request would be the loose thread that would unravel my entire world.

The day before Christmas Eve, things felt to be steadying out and looking hopeful again. We would surprise each child with a new outfit, new shoes and two toys Christmas Day, the construction was moving forward seamlessly, and even Charles had come up for air to help every once in awhile. Yes, I, we, had every reason to be hopeful.

I woke that morning to a knock on my CHU.

“Pembrook? What’s up?” I asked, smiling.

He looked visibly put out. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” I said, swinging open my door for him. He sat at the little chair at the little built-in desk and I sat across from him on my cot.

“Just spit it out,” I said, burying my head in my hands. “I don’t think anything you say could make our situations any worse.” He shook his head in answer and my stomach dropped. “What is it?”

“Somehow the courts became aware of your unscheduled trip to Cape Town. A warrant for your arrest has been issued and you have until January second to turn yourself in.”

I stood, my hands going to my head. “There’s no way,” I said, beginning to pace. “She wouldn’t.”

“Who wouldn’t?” he asked.

“Abri Aberdeen. Ian’s mom?”

“Yes?”

“She called a few days back and essentially threatened me to leave her son alone. She felt the match imprudent considering both our background stories, felt it would be detrimental to her current political goals. She wanted me to promise to leave him alone.”

“Preposterous!” Pembrook exclaimed.

“She’d admitted to having political ties in L.A. There’s no other person I could think of who would do this. Would my father have done this?” I asked Pemmy.

“No, he knew of the trip, was ecstatic about the potential connection.”

“Figures,” I said, laughing. “So that leaves Abri. I just can’t believe she would do this. What should I do?”