Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
I want to know what he’s been doing in the years since Jameson. He says he’s a fixer for the rich, but I think there’s a lot more going on. Why would my father hire him, of all people, instead of a real private detective? My father’s not the kind of man to be embarrassed because he wants his estranged daughter to come see him before he dies. If that’s all my dad wanted, there are a thousand better ways he could’ve gone about getting in touch.
Instead, he sent War, and I don’t know why.
Ford’s lack of information only deepens my suspicions. War’s too slick, too charming, too clever. Too attractive. I think of that kiss, or that near-kiss, and the way he clung to that stupid mechanical bull like the prize for staying on was eternal life. And in the end he didn’t even claim what he wanted—instead, he fed me some line about being cut off.
If War was related to a family like the powerful and mega-rich Arcs, he’d be at their house every weekend making sure they all knew him.
Unless he had a reason not to get anywhere near his wealthy cousins.
It all makes me frustrated. I want to know War’s game, and I need to know why my father would send him in particular to fetch me, and it doesn’t feel like any of those answers are forthcoming.
“I wish I could help you more,” Ford says and swirls his drink. “You know I’d tell you whatever you wanted, it’s just that Warren’s as much a mystery to me as he is to you. I honestly forgot we were even related until he asked about buying Bomber.”
“I know and I appreciate that. You and Kat have been very good to me. Especially considering—” I stop short and look away.
“Considering you’ve been lying about who you are since you met my wife?”
“I guess she told you.”
“No, actually, she hasn’t said anything about it.”
I look at him sharply. “Then how do you—?”
“You went to Jameson. Your last name is Leader, for fuck’s sake. You really think I didn’t figure out who you are, like, the instant I saw you?”
I laugh in disbelief. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“We’ve all got our pasts and our baggage,” he says and looks away. “I figured you’d come clean when you were ready, and if you were never ready, well, that’s fine too.”
“You weren’t worried I was going to hurt Kat?”
“No,” he says, his face taking on a hard cast. “Because you’re not that stupid.”
I let that sink in. Ford’s a good guy, jovial, funny, charming, but he can be scary as fuck when it comes to his wife and his family. “Understood,” I say and suppress a shiver. “Do me a favor though. If you ever find out anything about War, let me know.” I suddenly want to get the heck out of here as fast as I can.
“Actually, now that you say it, there is one weird thing.” He stands and walks over to his desk. “God, I forgot all about this, but I got a random message from this girl—” He boots up his laptop, clicks and types. “Yeah, here we go, it was like over a year ago. You know me, I never check this shit, but she randomly popped up in my messages asking if I knew where Warren Temple was hiding, and that she knew we were related. She’s some rich girl that runs in the same circles as me and I told her I didn’t know. Never heard from her again. But maybe she can tell you more about him?”
I blink rapidly and stand. “That’d be great. What’s her name?”
“Sam Silvan. I’ll send you her Facebook page and you can get in touch.”
“Thanks, Ford. You think she’s like an ex-girlfriend?”
“Maybe? Who knows.” He sits back and sips his drink. “Hopefully you can get to the bottom of my very weird distant cousin. Either way, I have your back.”
I smile at him tightly and nod. He’s got my back, at least until he doesn’t, but that’s not a line I ever plan on crossing. “I appreciate it.”
“Good luck.”
Sam Silvan has sleek blonde hair, lips packed with filler, and a scowl that could set the Texas prairie on fire. I meet her in downtown Dallas at a cute little coffee shop. She shows up ten minutes late in a sleek pencil skirt, expensive heels, and a blouse that looks like it costs more than my yearly salary.
“I cannot believe you asked me about Warren,” Sam says as a greeting and sits down heavily in the chair across from me. She’s pretty, pale skin, blue eyes, pretty much the prototypical Southern belle. “What did he do to you?”
“Uh,” I say. “Hi, I’m Melody, nice to meet you.”
“Sam.” She shoves a hand at me. Her manicured nails glitter in the overhead lights. I shake. “Seriously, what did he do?”