Page 117 of Hunted

“Maurice, Son…” He pinches the bridge of his nose likeI’mthe annoying one. “I’m not trying to kill your friends. Not anymore.”

“But you—”

“I’m trying to get ridofher.”

His words stun me to silence as my brain works overtime trying to fit all the pieces together. I’d assumed the assassination attempts had been for the guys, but when I think back on it, nothing was directed at any of them individually, not since we shut down the warehouse. And Darla was always there when one happened.

“You’re trying to kill Darla?” My chest constricts in pain at not only the thought of losing her, but that my own father would try to take her from me. The human trafficking on its own is unforgivable, but somehow this feels worse. “Why?”

“If she’s alive, The Danver’s Group goes back to her, and I knew she would eventually uncover the truth. But with you at the helm, I knew you’d continue to simply read those annual reports and believe everything was onboard.”

He was counting on my lack of competence to pull this off. And it had worked so far. If I hadn’t come in here looking for something else, I never would have stumbled across this. I would have gone on being ignorant.

I look down at the papers I’m still clutching. This is what he didn’t want to be found. That the Danver’s Group no longer exists, not really. All the companies have been sold, the employees gone. Now it’s just a front for human trafficking.

I look back up at my dad with a mixture of anger, frustration, betrayal, and hurt.

“I’m doing all of this for you.”

“For me?” I ask in disgust.

“Yes. I built all of this for you. It’s our legacy, Son,” he says with hope and determination filling his voice. Does he not know me at all? How can he think I’d be okay with human trafficking and multiple accounts of attempted murder?

“What do you expect me to say?Okay, Dad, go ahead and kill the love of my life so you can continue to make money trafficking people.” I say the last part with sarcasm as I look at him like he’s gone insane. Which he has. He’s still standing there, completely calm, and looking at me like I’m a teenager throwing a tantrum.

When he continues to give me that unimpressed glare, my hands curl into fists of frustration, the papers crumpling in my palms.

“She’s just a girl. She’s hardly important,” he says with a roll of his eyes.

I take a menacing step towards him. I’ll rip his goddamned throat out. I can probably get away with calling it self-defense, I mean, what judge will put me in prison for killing the leader of a human trafficking organization?

He must see the intent in my eyes because he takes a few steps backwards, putting the armchair between us. “Now, Son. Think about this for a moment. If I die, the hit on Darla doesn’t die with me.”

That gives me pause. Is he lying to save his own skin?

“I made sure that she wouldn’t be around to distract you, even if something happened to me.”

“Distract me from what?!” I yell, throwing my hands in the air in frustration.

“From the business, from our legacy.”

“You really think I’m going to run a business with you that kidnaps and sellshumans?” He’s off his rocker. “Do you not know me at all?”

His brows pinch together as he watches me, like he’s truly seeing me for the first time. “Perhaps not.”

“Call off the hit.”

His eyebrow shoots up in surprise.

“I mean it. Right now. Pick up your phone and call off the hit.”

“Or what?” he asks, pushing his hands in his pockets and leaning his hip on the chair, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

I grit my teeth in aggravation. “Or I call those agents and let them know who’s really behind this.” I was going to call them regardless, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, Son.” He calmly reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small gun. He keeps it low, but the barrel is pointed directly at me. The threat is clear. “What’s to stop you doing that after I make the call?” I should have expected him to call my bluff.

“Please,” I beg, trying to look less angry and more pleading. Part of him seems to still care about me. I hope it’s enough to keep his finger off the trigger. “What can I say to convince you to call off the hit on Darla?”