“Is Liam your son?”
“Looks to me like you’ve already made up your mind,” Michael shot back. “What wild theories are spinning around in that brain of yours? What crazed, warped worlds are you wandering through right now?” He gave me a sideways glance. “Did she give you some sort of drug? Are you drinking too much?”
Bran wasn’t going to be diverted from his mission. “Molly Callendar’s baby. Is he your son?”
Michael glared at me, hoping for a better reaction. “What have you put into his head?”
“Nothing but the truth,” I replied in as calm a voice as I could muster. Part of me wanted to jump up and claw his face to shreds, pound that smug smile into snail snot for what he was putting my mate through.
The other, saner part, reminded me this wasn’t my fight. I couldn’t fight Bran’s battles and he couldn’t fight mine.
Didn’t mean I couldn’t be ready to jump in if needed.
“Is he your son?” Bran repeated through clenched teeth.
Michael let out a sigh. “Brandon, don’t be such a drama queen.” He studied his well-manicured fingernails. “You make it sound like it’s something important.”
Bran moved in on his father, charging into his personal space. “Molly Callendar is dead and I think you’re responsible.”
Michael tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels, ignoring the challenge. “Oh, do you?” He sneered at me. “And why would I have your girlfriend run papers back and forth if I were going to kill Molly Callendar?”
I noted he’d already placed himself at the center of the murder conspiracy. “You had David Brayton play the role of Callendar’s ex-lover to keep you out of the picture.” I kept spinning the scenario. “You asked him to pretend to be the father and arrange for the payoff to Molly and Liam.”
“Liam,” Michael Hanover repeated, rolling the word out far longer than he should have. “Nice name.”
I ignored him. “Brayton negotiated a good deal for her and she agreed to keep everything secret. But maybe sometime between me returning to Brayton’s office and going back with new terms she changed her mind. Perhaps she decided she wasn’t happy with the idea of leaving town and starting a new life elsewhere.” I tried to keep the snarl out of my voice, only partially succeeding. “Maybe Molly flinched, didn’t want to leave her family and friends in order to live a lie out west. Possibly she called you up direct and asked for more money, maybe she asked for official recognition for Liam and inclusion in your family tree, something you weren’t prepared to deliver.” I paused, breathless from running down the theories.
“Maybe dwarves came up from their underground caves and killed her for not agreeing to marry their evil king,” Michael drawled.
I looked at Bran. We were spinning our wheels and going nowhere fast.
“Such a wild theory.” Michael crossed his arms, feet anchored to the floor. “And your proof is...” His eyes bored into mine like a diamond drill. Here was a man who’d withstood legal questioning on financial affairs and had dozens of expensive lawyers on speed dial. He wasn’t going to break down on my watch.
Mentally I stuttered, smashing into the invisible wall.
Bran moved in to save me. “You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to see the resemblance, Dad.” He held up his hands, his voice suddenly soft and gentle. “I held him. He’s adorable and has red hair and the cutest wee eyes.”
Michael drew a sharp breath, something almost like a gasp.
Bran’s voice went up a notch. “Did you ever see him? Did you ever hold him?”
The mask fell back into place. Michael’s features hardened. “Of course not. Why would I?”
Bran stuttered through the reply, shocked. “Because he’s your son. My brother.”
“Technically he would be your half brother,” Michael corrected him. “And what makes you think he’s even that?”
I resisted the urge to squirm off the edge of the sofa. We were wandering into the danger zone.
“He looks like you. Like me,” Bran said.
Michael huffed. “Bullshit. You looked like a turnip when you were born. Didn’t make me think your mother banged a farm wagon.”
Bran glanced at me. It was enough to redirect his father to a new target.
“Rebecca.” Michael turned away from Bran, zeroing in on me. “What makes you think he’s my son?”
“Brayton’s a bad liar. So was Molly.” I gestured at Bran. “Ask him—I can smell a lie a mile away. It’s my job.” I kept talking, waiting for signs the story was taking hold. “Let me lay it out for you. You ask for a favor, albeit blackmailing me for it. I trot over to Brayton’s office and he spins a tale for me about his wife and a secret lover and a baby.” I glared at the older man. “You don’t think I’ve seen someone lie for a friend before? He blusters and blathers and flaps his arms like he’s about to take flight. I’ve seen—” I coughed.
I was about to say crib brothers.
I doubted he’d understand a Felis reference.
“I’ve seen family lie for family and friends lie for friends. I don’t know what you’ve got on Brayton but he’s not as good a liar as you are.”
His eyes narrowed. He was buying some of it but not all.
I bit my tongue to keep the urge to tell him it’d taken seconds to scent his paternity on Liam’s wee little body. My theory would have to be enough to convince him—one Hanover knowing about the Felis was enough. I couldn’t afford to say more and at this point I didn’t give a rat’s ass if he believed me or not.
I sneaked a glance at Bran. You could bounce a coin off his shoulders, the tension pulling the shirt so tight across his frame.
“But it’s all gone belly-up and now the question you have to ask yourself now is, will Brayton take the fall for you? It’s one thing to play the jilted lover, the single father sending monthly checks to his son. Quite another to go down on a murder rap for killing Molly Callendar. Maybe he’s your best friend, maybe you’ve got dirt on him. Maybe he owes you a big favor for all those years of making money and squirreling it away in offshore accounts. But is it enough to keep him quiet through a murder trial and prison? Or is he going to jump at the chance to cut a deal and throw you to the wolves to save his own skin?”
Michael’s face armor faltered for a second before hardening again. But it was enough to let me see the cracks.
I stayed on the offensive.
“Brayton’s going to get one of the best defense lawyers and those men and women don’t flinch at digging up bodies to save their clients. She’s going to ask questions and check schedules and use all her resources to establish an alibi for Brayton and throw the jury off his trail. Question is, what will the hunters find when they start following the trail back through Hanover Investments?”
Michael cleared his throat. It sounded like a rifle shot in the silence.
I kept going. “I can tell you what they’ll find. They’ll find whoever was paid to kill Molly. People talk, people gossip—and when there’s a baby missing people tend to throw everyone under the bus to keep a child safe. When they find Molly’s killer is he going to point the finger at your or at Brayton? Did you pay him enough to keep quiet through a murder and kidnapping rap or is he going to roll for a few years off his sentence?”
I knew Shaw was dead but he didn’t. Easier to let him believe Shaw could be found and flipped for a plea deal.
“When they drag the guy you paid into the station, can you count on him not to talk? Follow the money—right back to your office.” I smiled and spread my hands. “And if he doesn’t spill everything the cops will still be throwing charges around. They’ll get one of you for the murder and the other for assisting. They don’t care which name goes on the arrest warrant as long as it sticks.”