Page 35

Chapter 34

What if?

Big Al

A few weeks later

T he urge to fly to Georgia for a probably-not-hostile confrontation with Lettie’s grandmother is beginning to outweigh my rationale for not doing it. I’ve gotten to the point where I’m manufacturing excuses to justify making the trip.

However, I don’t think anyone around here will buy my suggestion that Climax, Georgia, is fertile ground for the next generation of Redleg guards. Nor could I convince them that the sleepy little town has all we need to take down the Lenkov Bratva.

If my frustration percolates much longer, though, I can’t promise I won’t tell myself that it wouldn’t hurt to check on both those bullshit things just to be sure.

In light of the near-pause in our fight against Lenkov, I’ve often wondered how life could have been different if I’d been given a chance to be Lettie’s father. Would her life be better or worse? Would she be happier? Would she still be in love with Tomer and excited about starting a family?

Would she have been abducted and tortured by my enemy?

I’d like to think that if I’d been in her life all along, I’d have taught her enough to keep her safe. No doubt I would’ve shown her how to identify men like the fuckers who drugged and dragged her out of a bar.

Or hell , maybe I never would’ve come to Florida and gotten into a war with the mafia in the first place.

She wouldn’t have suffered the way she did. The way she’ll continue suffering for the rest of her life.

Wounds like those don’t ever heal. Not completely.

The more my thoughts travel down this craggy path, the more the desolation brews inside of me. It churns and boils until I’m frothing with bitterness and reciting one question—the same question that haunts us all, often stealing our peace and causing us to relentlessly look over our shoulders.

What if?

Sooner or later, everybody toils with this beast. Some more often than others.

Fighting this enemy is foolish, but that doesn’t stop us from doing it. No matter how formidable a person is, they can’t overpower the desire to manipulate our past into a more favorable present.

One with less pain. Less trauma. Less sadness.

Less emptiness.

It’s a pointless exercise to wonder what could have been. For it hasn’t. And it won’t.

Despite knowing this, here I sit, lining up to take a swing at the what if demon.

Getting to know my daughter has been a beautiful gift. One I’ll cherish for the rest of my life.

However, resentment is gradually eating away at the joy of having her in my life.

How dare Abby’s parents keep my own daughter a secret from me for twenty-four years? And how dare they deny her a loving father?

I’m under no illusion that I’m a perfect man. My flaws are many, and there’s no doubt I’d have made mistakes with her.

But dammit, I’d have been her father. I wouldn’t have ever stopped trying to do right by her.

Sadly, the opportunity was stolen from me. Ripped from my grasp before I even had a chance to hold it.

Once again, my hand moves of its own volition, guiding the mouse to open a web browser so I can check flights to Georgia.

Fuck .

A little voice in the back of my mind keeps asking what I think I’ll accomplish if I do confront the woman who stole my daughter from me.

Honestly, I don’t know the answer.

Is it my perpetual need for justice? Could this simply be a desire to right a wrong?

Or do I just want answers?

Don’t I deserve to look her in the eye and ask why she did this to Lettie and me?

Does she regret it? Is she remorseful? Or does she feel perfectly justified in her decision?

The only way I’ll ever get these answers is to face her.

A soft knock causes me to straighten in my seat and exit from the airfare search results on my screen. “It’s open.”

Vibrant red hair and big green eyes poke through the crack of my door. “Hey, Boss. You wanted to see me?”

I wave her in. “Come on in and close the door, Mia.”

There’s a tentativeness to her gait that I haven’t seen from her before. Her smile is stiffer than usual. And after she lowers to the seat in front of my desk, her shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath.

It’s oddly entertaining to see the former CIA analyst off-kilter.

I force my face and voice to remain impassive. “Something wrong?”

Her lashes flutter as she attempts to reel in her unease. “I’ve been expecting this for a while.”

Taking a quick look under the hood, I see she’s itching to come clean about something. No fucking clue what it is. But I’d be a monster not to let her clear her conscience.

Yes, it’s entirely altruistic.

Holding her gaze, I scratch my fingernails through my beard and nod slowly. She tips her chin up, confidently looking me in the eye.

Impressive.

One of the reasons I hired her—on top of her stellar technical skills—was her refusal to cower. She’s got a spine of steel. It’s ironic how Klein calls her tiger . It’s perfectly fitting for Mia. Couldn’t have named her any better myself.

I flare my nostrils with a forceful exhale, hoping it spurs her into talking. Most people can’t stand awkward silence, so they’ll say anything to make it end.

If only they realized that in silence, we are given the chance to hear the truth.

There’s a tiny crack in Mia’s facade. It’s right under her left eye. A minuscule twitch. Then it travels to her left cheek before landing in the corner of her mouth, where it’ll stay until she confesses what she’s done.

All it takes is a sharp plunge of my brows to get her talking.

“Boss, I’m sure you can understand why I’d investigate you and the team before joining Redleg.”

Ah . So that’s where this is going.

She likely knew about Lettie well before the night of the prep house raid.

Keeping my lips pressed in a hard line, I simply nod and wait for the rest of her confession.

“I would have told you, but I figured you already knew.” Her features crumple, and she shakes her head. “That’s a lie. I’m sorry. I knew you didn’t know about Lettie.”

Mia should have stopped while she was ahead; I was a second away from waving her off and sparing her further guilt. Sadly for her, though, she didn’t shut up.

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was a few reasons,” she starts. “Primarily, I didn’t think it was my place. After all, we’d only just met, and I didn’t know everything about you that I do now. Plus, I didn’t know if it would affect her. And then there was the Tomer factor.” She lifts one shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Anything else you want to get off your chest?”

Humor dances behind her irises, and her mouth bunches to one side. “Wait, wait, wait.”

I can’t hold back my grin for another second.

“Son of a bitch,” she moans, her head sagging in an arc. “I walked right into a trap, didn’t I?”

Pasting on a maniacal smile, I hold up my palms and shrug. “They say confession is good for the soul.”

She snickers quietly into her cupped hand, still shaking her head at herself. “I’ve been away from the CIA too long.”

“Or maybe you’ve just developed a fully functioning conscience.”

“Ew,” she jests, feigning a whole-body cringe. “Anything but that.”

“Don’t feel bad about keeping Lettie a secret from me. You didn’t have much time to tell me about her anyhow.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to add unlike other people to the end of that sentence. However, I bite it back easily because my anger is no longer with Tomer.

And now we’ve come full circle.

“Mia, I need your help researching something. It’s personal. And you are under no obligation to do this. I won’t hold it against you if you wish to decline.”

“Go on.”

“If you do this task for me, I’d want you to keep it a secret. It stays between you and me.”

Unhurried, I pause to await her response.

She earns mega brownie points with me when she says, “I’m unsure I could hide anything from Klein.”

I lower my chin in a nod of concession. “What about hiding something from Tomer and Lettie?”

She deliberates for three seconds before blurting, “You want to investigate the Holts, don’t you?”

“Yes, I want to find out everything there is to know about Lettie’s grandmother and her deceased grandfather.”

“Wow,” she whispers to herself.

I slant my head to one side and pucker my lips. “Can you blame me?”

“Not at all.”

“Will you do it?”

She trains her skeptical gaze on me. “Can I ask one more question before I decide?”

Negotiation skills. I like it.

“Sure.”

“Why don’t you want Tomer and Lettie to know?”

There’s always a moment when I realize I’ve made the right decision to bring someone into the Redleg fold.

Without a doubt, this is that moment. Mia’s loyalty is ironclad.

Not only is she concerned about how hiding something from her team could impact them, but she’s also worried about my daughter. She doesn’t have to say it in those words for me to see the motivation behind her question.

Mia strengthens this family in more ways than she’ll probably ever realize.

I clear my throat, buying time to formulate an answer. “I don’t want them to worry about why I’m interested in Mr. and Mrs. Holt. I suspect they would interpret it as me struggling to process my feelings or some emotional blockage I’m hoping to deal with by going after them.”

An airy laugh escapes her. “Are you telling me it’s not those things driving your request?”

“It isn’t malicious,” I defend.

Mia squints one eye at me. “Are you sure?”

Am I sure? That’s a good fucking question.

“I just want to know who they are. Or, in her grandfather’s case, who he was.”

She studies me carefully for a few seconds. Suddenly, she gives me a sharp nod and bolts to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”

Before I can react, she’s out the door, dashing away like a little pixie. While I sit there stone-faced, wondering where the hell she just went in the middle of our discussion.

A potential reason for her unusual departure crosses my mind, causing my stomach to flip-flop. What if she had to run to the restroom?

I fucking hope I’m wrong about this because I can’t take another pregnant female in this confined space. We’ve got a few more months before we can revert to normal life, where we aren’t cooped up and tripping over one another.

Her heels rapidly click-clack down the hall, the sound growing nearer. Once inside my office, she closes the door and scurries over to my desk.

Click .

This time, it isn’t her high heels making that sound. Rather, it’s the sound of a jump drive being set on my desk.

I grab the device, twirling it between my fingers. “What’s this?”

She shrugs casually. “It’s what you asked for.”

“Already?”

I knew she was good, but come on.

“Already,” she confirms, her smile reaching her eyes.

A laugh gets caught in the back of my throat. “Have you had this the whole time?”

“No. I only uncovered the bare minimum about them after I learned Lettie was your daughter.” She points at the jump drive. “This is everything I found out since the night we rescued her from the prep house.”

“Why then?”

Her throat bobs with a forced swallow. “The night when you first met her in the lair, I saw no recognition in your expression. None on hers either. And it struck me as particularly tragic how neither of you knew the other existed. Even when you came face to face, you might as well have been strangers. It was sad and enraging at the same time.”

Her gaze falls to the floor, and her chin wobbles.

I feel my emotions rising as well. More of that bitterness and resentment, along with grief over what I lost.

Mia blinks free of her sadness. “What they did was brutally unfair to you both. From what I knew about Lettie, she didn’t deserve it. And you dammed sure didn’t either. It made me curious about who these people were who raised her under false pretenses. How could they look themselves in the mirror? How could they pretend to love her while lying to her every single day of her life? Who were these people who sent her out into the world believing her father was dead when he’d been here all along? I needed to know.”

My fingers wrap tightly around the cold plastic covering the drive.

I’m unsure whether she realizes it or not, but Mia has articulated my motivations so succinctly. It’s as if she peeled open my mind and read what was hidden there, revealing my truth to us both.

“I haven’t had a ton of time to devote to it, given the mountain of other tasks. Fortunately, they aren’t very complicated people. I’m confident anything I could ever learn from here is on that drive.”

“Thank you, Mia.” The lines on my forehead deepen as I stifle my biting rancor. “I appreciate this.”

“You’re welcome, Boss.”

Her eyes dart to the side, and she bites her lip like she’s holding back her words again. Suddenly, they break free in a rush. “And I have more of these on other people if you ever want them.”

My chest shakes with a raucous laugh, and I wave her off with my open palm. “As long as whatever you’ve found doesn’t endanger anyone, then leave it alone for now. We can talk about that shit after we stop Lenkov, okay?”

Nodding eagerly, she says, “Excellent plan, Boss. I’m very much looking forward to that sweet day.”

Me too, Mia. Me fucking too.