Page 121 of Undeniably Corrupt

It never occurred to me, which is stupid, I realize, that my father was watching my mother’s texts with me. Most of the time I didn’t think about it. Our texts were basic and neverspoke about anything specific. I don’t know what my mother knows and what she doesn’t. She might still think Cass fell and that it was a horrific accident.

But after hearing that this agent guy showed up to talk to Vander shortly after I texted my mother that I was working for him is more than a little coincidental.

It’s why I texted all of that to my mother earlier, and it seems my pathetic, weak father took the bait. Good thing too, because I had no idea how else I was going to be able to do this.

I have to play this right. I have to believe that what Vander said about this guy is true. Otherwise, all hope is lost. Otherwise my father will have Vander killed and likely me and Hazel as well.

Vander won’t text me for a little while, but he will know that Hazel and I aren’t home soon enough when he doesn’t see us on camera. He’s going to be furious with me, and I get it. I’m risking a lot. Everything, really. So let’s hope this is as Vander said.

I drive through Boston and back around toward the university. It’s close to Vander’s building, but I don’t go there. I go to the parking lot on the south side of campus that is mostly empty save for a few scattered cars but is still on a public campus with enough people not too far off. Not to mention there are emergency buttons and places to run to if I need to.

I pull into the lot, park on an empty side away from the buildings, and shut off my car. Breathing heavily, my hands shake, and my heart pounds so much adrenaline through my body that I’m hazy with it. Or maybe I’m hyperventilating? Shit, it could be that.

I check my face in the rearview mirror. “Time to woman up, girl. You’ve got this.”

I do. I think. Possibly not, hence the hyperventilation. But I force myself to step out of my car, my keys in my hand,including the key to Vander’s house that I have sticking through two fingers in case I need to use it as a weapon.

The black SUV is a few spots over. The burnished orange light streaming down from the lamppost creates a circle between us. Without a word, I traverse it, heading straight to the man who threatened me and my child this morning. The man who claims he’s working for my father.

“What’s your name?” I ask as I approach him.

He’s standing tall with his dark hair pulled tightly back and his hitman suit on. “Larry.”

I snort a laugh. “Really? You couldn’t come up with a better fake name than that?”

“Who lies and says their name is Larry?”

Touché.

“Is that what my father calls you?”

“Yes.”

“What does the FBI call you? Since I know Vincent Vega isn’t it.”

His expression doesn’t alter as he searches my face, but if he’s surprised that I know he’s undercover FBI, he doesn’t show it. Then again, Vander could have this all wrong, and this man is everything to be feared and not sought out.

“I don’t think hitmen actually wear those types of clothes. They’re a bit conspicuous, don’t you think?”

My hands fall to my sides, but he notes the key between my fingers and smirks. Yeah, it’s not much. I brought a key to a… I don’t even know what you’d call this party, but I’m not stupid enough to believe he doesn’t have a gun on him somewhere.

“Why are you following me?” I ask, trying to feel him out a bit more before I put my cards on the table.

“Why are you texting your mother things you shouldn’t? Are you trying to get everyone killed?”

I grin, but there’s no warmth in it. “Did you know he beatsthe shit out of her? That he’s cracked ribs and made organs bleed but never takes her to the hospital because he can’t allow a record of any kind to be made. Did you know when Cassian and I were young, she had a miscarriage after he kicked her down the stairs?”

He doesn’t so much as flinch, but there’s a small shift in his gaze that tells me he didn’t know that. My father hides it well, never hitting her anywhere visible. Cass and I never talked about it. Not even with each other. It was just one of those things that stayed silent and corroded us from the inside out. Still, I don’t think this dude cares.

“He must pay you well to do his bidding. You didn’t kill Cass. I know that. I saw the men who did. That’s how all of this started for me. I overheard them discussing their evils, and for reasons I still don’t understand, my father let me live.”

He doesn’t reply, and frustration rolls through me.

“Why are you here? Why are you following me?”

“I’m here to deliver a message.”

I scoff and roll my eyes. “For both our sakes, I hope that’s not true. What threat did my father ask you to give me?”