“Which leads to the question: is there another one of you?” Harper asks. “Is there another sibling?”
“Or,” Savage offers. “Did your father plan to kill off Isaac? I mean, he is a pain in the fucking ass and a pathetic representation of his bloodline.”
I press my hands to the island. What the hell is this family up to?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Eric
My cellphone rings before I can respond to the new information I’ve been given about the will and the numerous theories about who in the Kingston family is the bigger asshole. I grab my phone from the island to find Isaac’s number. I grimace, show the caller ID to the room full of people facing me and hit decline.
I lean across the island and look at Grayson. “You need to distance yourself from this. Get Mia out of town before he lashes out at me by going after you.”
“I’ll get Mia out of town, but I’m not leaving.”
“I’m begging you,” I say. “And I don’t fucking beg and you know it. Please—manners, another thing I don’t do—please, I repeat, do this for me. I can’t do what I need to do while I’m worried about you.”
“And what exactly is it that you think you need to do?”
“Whatever the situation calls for. You need to understand that one moment of hesitation could mean someone ends up dead. I can’t be in a position where I hesitate because of you. Where I frame words or actions to protect you.”
“Then let me take Harper with me.”
“No,” Harper says immediately. “I can’t go. My mother is involved in all of this. And they came at me. That makes me a target who doesn’t need to be by your side.”
“Take Mia out of here,” I repeat. “At least give me forty-eight hours, Grayson.”
“I’m not leaving, but we’ll lock down with protection.” He pushes off the island and looks at Blake. “Lock us down. Two days.” He glances at me. “But I want updates.”
Relief washes over me and I give a firm incline of my chin. “Done.” I eye Blake, who motions to Savage.
“At your service,” he says to Grayson. “Actually, Smith will be your man. I’m just going to escort you to him.”
Grayson gives me a quick piercing stare meant to be a command and then heads for the door. “Gigi knows what this is about,” Harper says, lowering her voice. “We have to get to her.”
“We will,” Blake assures us. “If we have to do it by way of the man who cornered you in the hospital, we will.”
“I believe Gigi’s the one sending me the messages,” I say. “I think Savage is wrong. My father isn’t trying to get rid of Isaac. Gigi wasn’t getting rid of me or Harper, either. I think Gigi really did want my help because she feared for her son’s life. She used Harper to get me involved. I believe, as was my first instinct after Harper’s attack, that Isaac is behind all of this.”
“What I can tell you right now,” Blake says, “is that I have proof that Isaac’s been meeting with Nicholas Marshall, the young, newly-minted prince of the mob, who’s known to have a long history with the unions.”
“Newly-minted, meaning what?” Harper asks.
“His father died,” Blake says. “He took over.” His eyes meet mine. “Sound familiar?”
“Isaac isn’t working alone,” I say. “He and Nicolas have a plan to rule the world together.”
“Exactly my thought,” Blake says. “And about that wording in your father’s will, I tried to pull your birth certificate and Isaac’s as well. I found yours and it reads as expected. Isaac’s is another story. It’s sealed, and there’s no online record. I’ve sent a man to get hard copies any way necessary.”
Harper turns to me. “What the heck is this?”
My mind is chasing the messages we’ve been given. “Good question,” I say, walking to the coffee table, grabbing the message I haven’t decoded, and staring down at it. I sit down and search for birth certificate numbers in the state of Colorado but this one doesn’t connect any dots there. The format and digits don’t add up.
My phone buzzes with a text message and I grab it to confirm that it’s from Isaac and as cordial as I’d expect from him: I’m at the hospital. Where the fuck are you?
Harper sits down next to me and I show her the message. “At least it’s a controlled environment,” she says. “No one can get hurt.”
I snort. “He doesn’t have a chance in hell of hurting me.”