Conceal

When I left, Jax was able to find a comment from an employee asking for prayers for me. Apparently, I had fallen ill and was in a clinic abroad seeking medical attention.

I wondered if this was the game plan all along. Tell everyone I’m sick, so when I die overseas, no one questions it.

I can only assume Riley spun the story of a heartbroken husband who stayed behind to keep things afloat.

It makes me sick just thinking about it.

I spend the next few minutes looking at different posts, and then I see something that makes me breathe out a sigh of relief.

Riley is hosting a party tonight, or the company is, my company, but it also means that he is not in New York.

I’m going crazy.

Chapter Forty

Jaxson

I’m sitting in my office, but there is nothing to do today. Or maybe there is, and I just don’t want to be here anymore.

My foot taps rhythmically on the floor. It feels like time is standing still as I stare at my email.

Nothing of importance. Grayson wants background checks. Addison wants to update the company’s database.

It’s all things I can do in my sleep.

A puff of oxygen escapes my lungs as I push my chair away from the desk.

The metal scrapes against the floor with a jarring sound. But I don’t even care who heard. I’m leaving.

Now standing, I head to the door and then step out in the hallway. I’m almost upon the elevator, but before I can press the button, I hear the creak of the office adjacent to where I stand.

Grayson’s office.

Great. Just fucking great.

“Where are you going?” His gruff voice rings through the air. I know I need to turn around and look at him, but I don’t want to.

The one thing in my life I don’t need right now is a pissed-off Grayson looking down at me. Judging me for things he does not understand.

He wants me to run some numbers and look at mundane facts, but all I can think about is that the woman I care about is in danger and I haven’t helped her yet.

I’m so close.

I can feel it.

It’s hovering over me, so close I can almost see it, but I can’t reach out and touch it yet. If I leave now and work, I’m sure I will.

The faster I find the connection to Willow, the faster I can find the proof that he did it, and once I have that proof, he can be gone from her life.

Right now, we don’t even have anything to go to the police with, and it’s frustrating as all hell.

If only I had a picture.

A fingerprint.

Something.

Still facing the elevator, I can hear Grayson’s shoes hit the floor as he’s coming over to me.

“I have some work I have to do at home,” I respond.

“Work that is more important than being here?” he asks from behind me at this point.

I pivot my body.

Since we are about the same size and build, our eyes easily lock.

Looking at him, I wonder if Dad ever knew Grayson would try to fill his shoes. I wonder if he’s peering down from the pearly gates now and shaking his head.

Dad was tough but always fair. Looking back, he always believed in me.

Even though I didn’t know it until now.

He gave me my hobby, my first computer. He didn’t know it then, but that first game and that first computer changed my life.

Within minutes of starting the game he gave me, I needed to break it. I needed to win, and so I did. After spending endless hours trying to crack the code, I eventually did.

I’m good at what I do.

Too good.

It’s actually a problem . . .

It’s a good thing Grayson’s back because I don’t want to do any of his work anymore. After spending time with Willow, I realize how fleeting life is, and I’ve decided I’m done.

“As a matter of fact, it is.”

Mind made.

“What are you working on?” he asks.

“It’s personal,” I respond, shutting him down.

“Are you okay?” Surprisingly, his voice drops, and I can hear real concern in it.

It’s strange.

Not that I don’t think he loves me beneath the grumpy exterior. No, I know Grayson does; he just doesn’t have faith in me. Or at least not enough to do more than run a parlor trick for him. His jaw is tight, but it’s his eyes that make me want to take a step back.

He’s really concerned.

I can’t tell him what is going on, but I can tell him something.

“It’s not about me. I’m fine.”

“That girl?” he asks.

“She’s not just a girl. She’s the girl.”

He nods in understanding. I can see the way a line forms across his brow. He wants to ask more. Say more.

But something holds him back.

I wish it didn’t.

I wish there was more to my relationship with my brother, and I could trust him with the secrets I harbor.