Glaring at the handset I still held, I mumbled, “You could have just said that.”
***
I had gotten ready in record time, only bothering with the bare essentials. My hair was still wet when I left the house, and I twined it into a braid once I was on the subway. I didn’t have time to dry it, but if I let it just dry, I’d regret it. The braid was my best bet. If it made me look about sixteen, oh, well. It was better than the pigtails. Those made me look twelve.
I got to the house on Fifth Avenue in record time and burst inside without knocking. It wasn't until I'd stepped inside that I realized the door had been unlocked.
And the house was oddly silent.
None of the staff were around. I paused to look for Doug. The front door seemed kind of naked without him. I called out his name. Only silence echoed back.
“I gave them the day off,” Ash said from behind me.
I jumped, spinning around to find him standing right behind me. I’d moved farther into the silent house than I realized.
“You scared me to death.”
He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug.
I frowned. The normal response to that was an apology.
He turned and strode into the large salon to the far right of the elegant foyer. I’d been in the room once or twice, but never for more than a minute. To be honest, I didn’t like it. It was informal and uncomfortable and…stiff. Cold, somehow.
Rather like Ash, I thought.
“Drink?” He looked up at me from the drink service where he was pouring something for himself.
“It’s not even two o'clock,” I pointed out.
“There’s that annoying song…it’s five o’clock somewhere…”
“You're in an odd mood.”
“I am.” He tossed back something that glittered amber in the light, and when he turned to me, I caught sight of his eyes. They were the coldest I’d ever seen them. No heat in them at all. Not even anger.
Slowly, I reached up to rub at my chest. “Please tell me that she hasn’t been…”
“Still nothing.” He gestured toward a seat. “Please.”
I didn’t want to. For some reason, all I wanted to do was get out of there. Fast. But I didn't think that was an option. Slowly, I moved over to one of the stiff-backed chairs and sat down. It was as miserable as it looked.
Ash poured himself another drink and came over to sit down in front of me. He looked like he belonged in that chair.
I held myself tense, uncertain as to what was going on. He gave me a smile that made my stomach turn. It was cold and brittle.
“Ash, what’s going–?”
“Kidnapping, huh? That's your idea of living clean?” He looked at his glass, studying the contents and then tossed it all back before slamming the empty glass down on the table. In a blink, he was in front of me. “Your brother is a fucking kidnapper.”
“No!” What the hell…who had…no. It didn’t matter, because he was wrong, the story was wrong. Victor had stopped a kidnapping. But nobody wanted to listen to him. He was a thug, a convicted dealer just a couple years out of prison, a few steps up from human trash as far as most people were concerned. He hadn't been charged with anything because there hadn't been any evidence, but the rumors had never gone away, even years later.
Ash put his hands on the arms of my chair and leaned down so that his face was only inches from mine. “What have you two been planning behind my back, Toni? How did you make it happen? Did you bribe somebody at Winter to help you get close to my sister?”
“What?” I gaped at him, my head spinning. My heart hammered in my chest; fear an acrid, ugly taste crawling up my throat. “I don't–”
“I’ve seen the fucking pictures, Toni!”
Ears ringing from the sheer ferocity of his bellow, I shoved him. He didn’t move. Narrowing my eyes, I leaned back into the seat and brought my feet up. The movement caught him off guard and he didn’t react in time. The double kick sent him stumbling back and I shoved upright. He may have towered over me by more than a foot, but at least I was on my feet now.
I pointed a finger at him and warned, “Don’t ever try to corner me, Lang.”
He rubbed at his gut. “How did you do it?” He glared at me.
“Do what?” I shouted. “I don't know what the fuck you're talking about?!”
He turned around and grabbed something. A moment later, pictures flew across the room. “Stop the innocent routine. I saw you with him. You’ve met with him more than once.”
Confused, I looked down…at pictures of Vic and me. We were in the bar in some of them. A few…son of a bitch. He’d had me followed all the way to my parents' house. And it wasn't like before. Not like the time the investigator hadn't been hiding and had just stood around outside; like he'd been confirming that I didn't have some sort of hidden routine. These were close-ups. These were private. Somebody had been looking into the windows of my family's home. I could even place where they must've been standing when the shots had been taken, and it sure as hell hadn't been on public property.
He’d had me followed. Again. And this time he'd crossed the line.
Shit. A thought hit me. Vic said he’d had cops following me, but were they cops?
Or where they Ash’s men? How many did he have?
I blew out a slow breath, tried to calm myself. He was going through something awful, something I couldn’t imagine. We'd deal with the violation of my privacy later. It didn't mean I still didn't need a moment to reign in my temper.
“Explain,” he demanded again.
My hands were shaking with anger and the quaver came through in my voice. I looked up at him. “Explain…you want me to explain?”
Selecting a photo at random, I turned it and met Ash’s icy gaze. My grasp on my control was tenuous at best.
“This is Vic and me, having a drink at his favorite bar. We do it two or three times a month.” I scowled at Ash. “I’ll tell you what, your crack-shot investigator isn't worth shit, because if he'd asked around, anyone could tell you that. And sometimes it’s all of us. Me, three of my brothers since Kory can't commute from Michigan. Deacon and Franky sometimes bring their wives. Sometimes I bring whatever guy I’m seeing. Not that any of that is your fucking business!”
My voice rose with every word, my control slipping, then snapping. I tore the picture in half and grabbed another. My heart felt bruised, shredded, as I saw the image of a Friday night dinner. He’d invaded the sanctity of my parents’ home. Not just my life, but their lives. Reaching up, I traced the edge of my mother’s face. She wasn't completely in the frame since I was the center of the shot, me and Vic, but she was still there.
“You want a fucking explanation for this? It’s called a family dinner. I’ll be going to one tonight. We do it every Friday evening. Rain or shine. Snow, sleet or hail. It's my family.” The picture fell from numb fingers and I looked at him, suddenly empty. “What else do you want from me?”
“Tell me where she is. I’ll pay whatever you want. Just tell me where she is.” His voice was so cold.
I stared at him as it hit me. He wasn’t just lashing out or grasping at straws. He was serious. He thought I had something to do with this. That my family and I…
For a second, I couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t even think.
A disgust so thick and all-consuming settled inside me, I thought it might choke me. But I didn’t know who it was directed at. Him…or me.
I’d had him inside me. Maybe I hadn't exactly been thinking clearly. But I’d liked him. Some parts of him, at least. I'd told myself that after all he'd been through, it was understandable that he'd put up some walls. I'd told myself that, deep down, he was a good guy. I'd counted on my usually accurate insight into people and it had let me down. How could I have taken a man so callow, so selfish inside me? How could I have not seen the sort of man he truly was?