Page 17

Chapter 16

You dropped a bomb on me

Big Al

Y ou’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

I’m your daughter.

That’s what this young woman just said to me.

In front of a conference room full of my staff.

The morning after Maddie was shot.

Easily one of the roughest nights in recent memory has given way to a day for the record books.

I’m your daughter.

What the actual fucking hell? I couldn’t have heard her correctly. Is this some kind of sick joke?

Probably Sawyer. That pranking fucker.

But would he do this after what happened last night? Nah . Even he has limits.

That only leaves one possibility.

She is my daughter. Or believes she is.

My gaze springs between her and the man standing a few feet behind her.

Tomer. Her boyfriend. Or possibly ex- boyfriend, judging by the scene we all overheard outside the conference room a few seconds ago. It would appear he’s known about her being my daughter all along and lied to her about it.

And lied to me too.

Tomer’s grim expression tells me in no uncertain terms that this is no joke.

Aside from being the man I trust the most at Redleg, he’s been by my side since the beginning. And before that. He’s the son I never had.

What the fuck has he done?

I focus back on her, her words running through my head once more.

Alan Lancaster? My name is Violet Holt. I go by Lettie. I’m your daughter.

My fucking daughter.

How? Who?

A red haze fills my vision as my arm lifts on autopilot to shake her offered hand. A spike of adrenaline sharpens my senses, making my breath catch.

After the fucking night I’ve had, I’m surprised my adrenal system has any more to give.

From behind me, a smart-ass chirps, “Congratulations! It’s a girl.”

Fucking Sawyer and his British accent.

Nervous laughter echoes around the room, breaking the tension for everyone except me. And possibly her.

In the next breath, her face pinches tight, and her cheeks pucker. She cups her mouth and dashes out of the room. My hand remains frozen in the air, where it was holding hers.

Tomer goes running after her. Sounds of retching greet my ears.

Apparently, I make a nauseating impression.

Can’t say it’s my first impression, though. I met her a week or so ago on the night several senior members of my team carried out a dangerous mission to raid a trafficking house to free her.

Without fucking telling me.

When my gut signaled something was off at my company, I logged in and saw them in full tactical gear, carrying more than a dozen abducted girls out of one of Lenkov’s flesh trade prep houses. Lettie was their primary target, but they saved the others while they were there. I’d have ordered them to do the same, but the fact that they didn’t come to me is a cut that won’t soon heal.

I was waiting in the lair when they returned to debrief.

The fuckers.

And she was there. I had no idea she was my... daughter .

That night, she was a battered shell of a girl, so unlike the woman who just rocked my entire world to its core.

The conference room is dead silent for five seconds before Mia and Leo scurry to the door. Klein trails a step behind. I’d imagine they’re going to see if they can help her. It isn’t like them to insert themselves into drama.

Ha . Gotcha. That’s the Redleg fucking creed these days.

Shep and Sawyer head in that direction next. They’re going to see the show.

As per tradition.

Snapping into action mode, I dismiss our audience. “Meeting adjourned for one hour. Everyone fuck off for now. But stay in the building.”

I storm over to the doorway. Everyone breaks apart, following my orders. Some more reluctantly than others. Nosy as they may be, they’re all good kids who know this isn’t the time to test my patience. Or Tomer’s.

With the spectators dispersed, only one person remains.

My Maddie stands resolute two feet behind Tomer and Lettie, who are hovering over a trash can at my assistant’s desk.

I watch silently, unsure what to do first. Or second. Or third.

Murder Tomer? Nah . He’s likely punished himself enough already.

Console my alleged daughter? How the fuck do I do that?

I go with option C, standing rooted to the floor like a dumbstruck asshole who’s running on caffeine, spite, and rage. A splitting headache settles in the base of my skull.

Once Lettie has her stomach under control, Tomer helps her to her feet. They exchange words before Maddie leads her down the hall.

And I’m left with Tomer.

Where do I even fucking begin with this kid?

Balling my fists at my side, I husk out, “My office. Now.”

Tomer’s shoulders tense as I bustle past him. As expected, he follows wordlessly.

Disappointment and confusion swirl in my chest. He’s been lying to me. For fuck knows how long. After everything I...

Nope . Not thinking about what I’ve done for him.

Or was that for me?

I’m too tired to unpack that shit now. I’ll be lucky if I get through the next few minutes without firing everyone, closing the company, and absconding to an island to live out the rest of my days in peace. I hear Costa Rica is nice. Wonder if my boat will make the trip.

Scratch that. Maddie won’t go with me while her daughter is pregnant. So that idea can piss off.

And now I have a daughter to deal with too.

Deal with?

Fucking hell, Alan. Did you really just think that? Do better.

Shaking off my distressing thoughts, I storm across my office and stare out the window. Bracing my arm on the cool glass, I survey the back of the building.

Seagulls fly toward the beach, leisurely enjoying the perfect sunny day. A squirrel races up a tree in the far corner of the lot. The leaves and fronds on the pair of palms dance in the crisp, coastal breeze.

It’s so damn peaceful out there this morning. The opposite of what it’s like at Redleg HQ and inside my mind.

Tomer shuffles into my office, his boot heels clicking together audibly.

Rather than raging at him like I want to, I concentrate on my breathing and count to ten.

Using every ounce of self-control I have, I force my mind to go blank so I can talk to him without screaming.

No matter how hurt, betrayed, and angry I am, I never want to yell at Tomer or put my hands on him. He’s had enough of that for one lifetime.

Most of my kids have.

Time to start picking up the pieces. Same as I always do.

Still facing the window, my thoughts turn to my daughter’s well-being. Fuck , that sounds strange. “Is she okay?”

In his typical monotone delivery, he replies, “She will be. She’s strong.”

Well, that’s good to hear. But not what I meant.

As is often the case, he misunderstands what I’m asking.

Tech, safety, intelligence, military strategy? He’s absolutely on the fucking ball. But people? Miles away from the ball field with no way to get there, no cleats, and no glove.

“I meant with the getting sick,” I clarify.

“Oh. I think so. Madeline’s with her in the restroom, getting her all cleaned up.”

My heart squeezes, sending warmth to my bones. “Of course she is.”

Pausing for a moment, I attempt to get my questions in some type of order and priority. If I just start firing away, he’ll get flustered. Must lead with logic when it comes to this kid.

Exhaling through rounded lips, I start my questioning. “How long?”

“More specific,” he responds.

Come the fuck on . I’ll need to lead him there with a fucking map, compass, flashlight, and leash.

“How long have you known she’s my daughter? Assuming she is.”

He wastes no time spitting out the answer. “Eight years. Maybe nine. And she is.”

My gut twists, and my head sags. “ Jesus , Tomer. Since we formed the fucking company?”

“Yes.”

Before we formed it, actually. That dates back to when we were talking about it.

As per norm when he’s in trouble, he gives me the least possible words in response to direct questions. No details or elaborations.

It’s no wonder he’s this tight-lipped, given he’s in more trouble with me than ever before.

Making it worse, he’s especially shitty at this when he can’t see my facial expressions.

It would help me to remain calm if I could just keep looking at the scenic peace out my window, but if I’m ever going to get through this conversation, I need to get him to look at me.

When I turn around, my pulse pounds in my neck. The urge to rage at him is there, but I suppress it.

Barely.

His posture is stiff and rigid, arms folded at his lower back. He’s a soldier, prepared for a royal ass-chewing.

But he isn’t that anymore.

He’s like... my son. So much more so than the others.

While most of my Redleg children need me in some way. Tomer’s always been different.

I vowed I’d always be there for him from the time I took him to confront his bastard father some fifteen years ago. That night, I saw firsthand what a true monster looks like.

Not some foreign adversary fighting for what they believe is a noble cause.

His father was evil to his core. And the poor fucking kid in front of me suffered at his hands for eighteen torturous years.

The world is a better place without Fred Stillman.

Haven’t I been there for Tomer ever since? I thought I did everything I could.

Which begs the question, how could he fucking do this to me?

I must have failed him. If I had taught him what family really means, he wouldn’t have kept something like this from me for nearly a decade. How could my gut have been this off-base for so long?

Called on the carpet for his betrayal, he’s stiff as a board and vacant. He’s not even attempting to meet my eyes.

“Look at me,” I order sedately. He doesn’t, just keeps his fucking gaze straight away like he’s made of stone. “Eyes. Up here. Now.”

He finally complies, the pain in his expression gutting me from across the room. I can only imagine what I’ll see if I look closer.

I’m not ready for that just yet, so I stay in place. “I figured you’d have looked into my background before agreeing to move to Clearwater for this.” I gesture around us, referring to the company. “Foolishly, I thought you’d tell me if you found something of note. Get to talking while I’m still able to hear you.”

“What do you want to know?”

Is he playing dumb?

I bite my tongue—literally—and look upward as if I’ll find strength in the ceiling tiles. “Come on, kid. Everything. Fucking talk. Un-ass your shit. How did you find her? Who’s her mother? How old is she? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me about her after everything we’ve gone through? And how the hell did she end up...”

I bite off my words to avoid raising my voice or causing him to shut down.

Well, to stop from roaring like a fucking beast. Let’s be real. Keeping my voice low is out of the question at this point.

“With me?” he asks, trying to finish my sentence.

My legs grow weary, so I drift toward the couch.

At times like these, I’m so fucking glad I have this bit of comfort in my office. I’ve spent enough nights here to justify the expense. Maddie slept on it last night since we came here after leaving the hospital so the team and I could put our plans in motion to protect our Redleg family.

“Yes.” I lower onto the arm of the couch a few feet from where he stands like a soldier at parade rest. “For fuck’s sake, quit standing like that.”

He glances down his body, then loosens his spine. Well, he attempts to. But he’s got a pole up his ass or some shit.

“Sit the fuck down,” I bark out.

Joining me on the couch, he remains silent.

I will not fucking punch him. I will not fucking scream at him. I will let him explain at his pace.

Maybe if I tell myself that enough times, it’ll work.

Because I honestly feel like jumping his shit the longer this pathetic excuse for a conversation continues.

“Don’t spit out all the answers at once. I’m struggling to keep up.”

He rambles through some platitudes about how he’s working to find the right words. As if there are any.

I tune most of it out as my emotions riot.

“. . . Please be patient with me and try to listen...”

The roar of blood rushing behind my ears muffles whatever the fuck else comes out of his mouth. “Just to recap for you, in case you’ve forgotten. I didn’t sleep last night. The woman I love was shot, and I killed the gunman in a restaurant parking lot. My daughter just barged into a meeting in front of a third of my staff to drop a bomb at my feet. And you need me to be patient.”

My chest heaves with increasingly jagged breaths.

And yet, he still doesn’t answer.

Calling up all the love I’ve ever had for him, I manage to keep my voice steady. “Speak, dammit. Fuck .” I groan. “Fucking start talking before I lose my shit.”

“Before we opened Redleg, I looked for anything in your past that might come back to bite you. I was trying to protect you. Protect what you were building.”

My teeth grind, and I thrust out my open palm to cut him off. “What we were building.”

None of this would be here if we hadn’t partnered the way we did. None of it.

And if he doesn’t know that, there’s another one of my fucking failures screaming right in my face.

Defeat creeping into my soul, I let my exhausted frame slump from the arm of the sofa onto the cushion and stretch my legs out in front of me. “Keep going,” I encourage him.

Finally , Tomer begins explaining how this cluster became utterly fucked beyond all recognition.

“Her mother was a woman named Abigail Holt. From Georgia. I found your name and birth date on the original birth registration paperwork in the hospital. The state rejected it since you hadn’t signed it to confirm paternity.”

Well, considering I didn’t know she was pregnant, that’s a no-brainer.

And I don’t recall dating anyone by the name of Abigail.

He continues, explaining how the state returned the registration forms to her, notifying her to resubmit with paternity paperwork so I could be named on the birth certificate.

Clearly, that never happened, and thus, I wasn’t listed.

Abigail, Abigail, Abigail.

Nothing springs to mind. I’m too fucking tired for this shit.

“How old is Lettie?” I ask him when he pauses for a breath.

“She’ll be twenty-six in two months.”

Leaning my head against the sofa cushion, I mentally rewind my life by twenty-six years to see if I can connect any of these dots. “I was in the Rangers.” I recall deployments and leave time from all those years ago, trying to discover who this mystery woman could be. “Was probably on that mission in Kigari, Africa.”

That was a long, brutal assignment. Before leaving, I decided to break up with...

Her face pops into my memory, as vividly as the day I left her crying in the corner booth at the bar near base. The same one I met her in when she was singing like a fucking angel.

“ Abby . Holy shit. Why the fuck didn’t she tell me about her? She wasn’t the type to?—”

Tomer interrupts my rambling. “She died from complications a few days after having Lettie.”

Oxygen clogs in my throat as my heart jumps in the way.

As if I needed more shit to deal with today, grief clouds my vision.

Abby went through the entire pregnancy on her own. She must have been terrified. But she fortunately had a healthy baby girl, who grew into a beautiful woman.

Tragically, Abby didn’t get to see any of it.

Neither did I.

Did she try to get a hold of me?

It’s possible. I wasn’t in the country, and there was no way for her to contact me while I was on that mission since she wasn’t family.

My entire body goes slack as the implications begin to swirl through my mind. “ Fuck .”

Abby died not knowing how happy I’d have been. How devoted I’d have been to raising our child with her. Even if we didn’t get married, I’d have never shirked my responsibilities.

Between two particularly rough missions, I was in a turbulent spot mentally. However, I’d have been there for her. For them both.

And Abby died never knowing that.

Sounding like he’s at the end of a tunnel, Tomer rattles through an explanation of Georgia law at the time and how Abby’s parents adopted my daughter.

They never contacted me.

Never told me I had a baby. My own flesh and blood who needed me.

And those fuckers damn well knew who I was and could’ve found me when my deployment ended. I had dinner at their table, for fuck’s sake. They knew my name and rank. The car I drove. Where I was from. Who my parents were. All things they demanded to know before permitting me to take Abby to dinner.

Colorful memories of their interrogation pass through my consciousness.

Judgmental pricks.

Even though I came from money, they didn’t like me. Nor my profession. And especially not my lack of religious devotion. Nothing about me was good enough.

Eventually, Abby convinced them to give me a chance to earn their trust.

Tomer’s voice returns to the forefront of my consciousness. “The official birth certificate listed them as parents. Lettie had no idea about you until recently.”

“Shit.”

Tension pulses through me, resentment settling into my sore muscles. I dig my fingers into my nape, trying to massage away the ache.

But that’s impossible.

This pain is here to stay.

The Holts should’ve told me I had a daughter who needed me, but they chose to hide her from me. There’s no other way to slice it. They made a fucking choice.

I can only hope my daughter didn’t suffer because of it.

“It gets worse,” Tomer drawls. “She was raised believing they were her real parents. When her grandfather was dying of cancer a little over a year ago, he confessed they were her grandparents. In that conversation, he told her you were KIA.”

Self-righteous bastards. Very God-fearing of them, isn’t it? Hypocrites.

My jaw clicks from the strain of my grinding. It’s getting hard as hell to listen to this shit. I drag my palm over my face, grumbling quietly.

It’s either that or fucking scream.

The betrayal is coming at me from not only the present but the past, gutting me where I sit.

So many times before, I thought I’d suffered enough penance for what I did to my brother. Turns out, I still haven’t atoned for those sins.

After a long pause, Tomer finally gets to the part of the tale I initially expected to hear—how he ended up lying to my face for this damn long.

“When I first found out about her, I did more digging to help prepare you. She seemed to have loving guardians. Nice home. Friends. Popular in school. All that. She seemed like she was in a good spot. And as for you? You were just...”

Sparing himself from having to insult me, I toss, “I know how stressed I was back then. I was a miserable bastard.”

“Yeah. So I waited.”

He goes on to rationalize his betrayal in perfect Tomer fashion—by removing the humanity from the equation and focusing only on the logic.

What he fails to realize is that some things aren’t logical.

Even if it made sense for him to wait until I was emotionally prepared to hear the news, it doesn’t make his decision any better.

Abby didn’t have the opportunity to wait until life was a fucking peach pie before finding out she was pregnant. Why do I get that grace?

Tomer won’t ever understand that.

His voice grows increasingly shaky as he rambles through his excuses and justifications. “It was never a good time. Month after month and year after year, I kept telling myself...”

Poor fucking kid chokes on his words. My heart aches for him, but I’m still so damn enraged.

Argh .

“I thought if only I worked harder or was better, I could take the weight off your shoulders. Then I would tell you. All I wanted to do was help prepare you. Considering the type of man you are, there was no way you were going to find out you had a daughter and not either go to her or bring her here. And then what? And what if you didn’t come back? What would happen to all of us? So I worked harder. Took on more. I tried, and I fucking tried, but it was never enough. I failed you.”

A battle rages in my chest. One side furious with him over this deceit. And for so long. The other side aches for the pain I hear in his voice and see in his expression.

Yet he’s still missing the entire fucking point.

It wasn’t on him to ready me for this.

She was my daughter. I deserved to know she existed, ready or fucking not.

Admirable as it was for him to try to prepare me and ease my transition to fatherhood , that wasn’t his cross to bear.

I get why he’d think it was, though. In his fucked-up way, he was trying to earn his place in my life. Earn my love. Never realizing he already had it.

Because he doesn’t know what love is.

Maddie’s face slices through my mind. She didn’t know unconditional love either.

How did I get through to her and not Tomer?

Hmm . Wait.

Considering her insistence on keeping me a secret, I failed to accomplish it with her as well.

Fuck this damn day. Absolutely fuck it.

I slump my head back and stare at the ceiling. “And the two of you?”

Without an ounce of hesitation, he emphatically states, “I love her.”

No shit, Sherlock.

“I know. Judging by the scene today, I’m guessing she didn’t know about me being alive until recently, right?”

“Correct,” he confirms.

Wait a fucking second. Not telling me is one thing, but I’m not the only one he lied to. He kept it from her for their entire relationship. Probably meeting her under false pretenses.

That’s... cruel. And Tomer’s a lot of things, but none of them are cruel.

“You told me you’d been with her for a year, right? How the fuck did you manage that?”

Head down, he confesses, “She didn’t even know my real name or where I worked until last week.”

Unbelievable.

For the first time, my volume spikes into a near shout. “ Jesus fuck, kid. Why? What the hell were you thinking?”

“I only wanted to help her. Protect her. Look after her. It wasn’t supposed to get... complicated the way it did. After I got her set up with a job and a safe place to live, I tried to back away. To leave her alone. I tried so damn hard.”

His anguish helps quash my ire. Barely.

But some cold honesty sneaks out of me with my next breath. “I’d beat the shit out of you or fire you if I didn’t know you the way I do.”

“You’re not gonna fire me?”

The headache I’ve been fighting all day flares to a full-blown knife in the skull. “No. I’m gonna kick you the fuck out of my office right now.”

I’ve heard enough. And now I’m getting pissed at him on my... daughter’s behalf. Gulp .

“I didn’t tell you how I met her and how we...”

Pressing to my feet, I pin him with a glare so he doesn’t finish that sentence. “If I hear much more of this fucked-up story right now, I can’t promise not to beat your ass or tell you to pack your desk.”

Or both.

He sits there, dumbstruck and silent, while I will away this headache and the entire fucking day.

Sadly, I fail at both of those.

A gentle knock diverts our focus toward the door.

“Come in,” I respond gruffly.

Maddie’s sweet face sneaks in through the door crack, her eyes landing on mine. Like a salve to a burn, the sight of her eases my misery.

Despite the horrific circumstance that has her with me at Redleg today, I couldn’t be more grateful for her presence.

I beckon her inside with a tip of my head. “Tomer was just leaving.”

All the peace Maddie brings me as she enters my office is tossed in a blender when I catch sight of Lettie a few feet behind her.

I’ve always thought of myself as somewhat unflappable.

Consider me the fuck flapped.

Tomer breezes past Maddie, making a beeline for the young woman in the hallway.

His earlier words replay in my mind. I love her.

I sure as shit hope she loves him enough in return to forgive him. He better yank his head out of his ass and fall to his knees to grovel for her forgiveness.

Approaching quickly, Maddie catches my gaze. “Your daughter would like to speak to you before she leaves.”

Of all the damn days...

I’m quickly coming to realize that parents don’t get to choose when their kids need their attention. Unlike the ones down the hall, I can’t tell this one to fuck off until it’s a better time.

Not that I would. Especially after all she’s been through.

Ready or not, it’s time to meet my daughter.