More shots sounded behind him, spurring him on. A desperate glance as he scuttled across the floor on his hands and knees, half dragging one leg awkwardly behind him, since it didn’t want to hold his weight, showed only a single exit from this room, so there was no choice but to head for it. The desk was solid and posed a possible hiding place, but no way he was getting cornered in here, and Zack was pretty sure he was leaving a trail of blood that would lead right to him.
Where the fuck was Gordon? Zack had never felt a whole lot of tender loving care from the guy, but Jesus Christ, this pretty much said it all. Or did his absence mean his father was injured or… worse?
The idea made his head swim. They might not be close, but Gordon was the only family he had. Fuck if he wanted to end up in the foster system; better the devil he knew.
Finally, Zack exited into a hallway that was clearly not part of the public areas, and immediately, running footsteps hurtled towards him. Imagining the worst and with nowhere left to go, the small child inside Zack’s adolescent body curled into a fetal position and covered his head with his arms. If he couldn’t see them, perhaps it wouldn’t be true.
“It’s okay son, we’ve got you.” Despite the descriptor, it wasn’t his father’s voice. “You’re safe now.”
Arms reached for him, but although Zack’s head was buzzing with dozens of questions, they all spun around until they turned into some murky soup of unfinished thoughts as the adrenaline which had gotten him this far crashed him into blissful oblivion.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mister Kincaid.”
Zack hadn’t lost his father that fateful day twelve years ago, but death had caught up with Gordon in his retirement which the old man had lived to surprising excess after being such a dedicated workaholic all his life. Zack was amazed Gordon had made it to seventy-seven.
“Thank you,” Zack replied, knowing it was expected of him, even though all he really felt was ambivalence. While they’d never been close, the day of the shooting had changed things for the worse. Maybe because those events had forced Zack to grow up - fast.
Or maybe because the blinkers had finally been ripped away, and Zack’s inner child, who had still desperately wanted his father’s love, had finally whimpered in defeat and given up on the impossible.
Far from being injured as Zack had feared, Gordon Kincaid hadn’t suffered a single scratch. If Zack had expected sympathy, or maybe even a touch of concern when he woke up in the hospital after being treated for shock and stitched up from the graze he’d received from a glancing bullet, he was sadly mistaken. Instead, Gordon had almost seemed annoyed that his only child was causing him so much bother. That had been the final nail in the coffin.
Today, Zack was only here for the formalities. He didn’t need his father’s money - if there was any left after the way Gordonhad blown through it in his final years. Despite coming from wealth, he’d built his own fortune, completely separate from his father’s, and was a great deal more successful.
Aubrey Tattersall, his father’s lawyer, droned on, as he listed limited assets that made it clear Gordon would have eventually faced bankruptcy if he’d lived much longer. At this point, Zack supposed he should be grateful he hadn’t been saddled with a debt. Not that he couldn’t have afforded to pay it, but the principal would have pissed him off.
“So, is that everything?” he asked, desperate to get out of there.
“There’s some paperwork that requires your attention,” the obsequious little man continued. Zack signed several documents while the man prattled on, but he knew Tattersall was touting for business, since Zack used a different law firm for his own needs. Aubrey was an ass-licker, someone who told you what you wanted to hear; something Zack couldn’t stand. He needed a team who dealt in reality and told him the truth. He’d almost zoned the pompous idiot out when the bomb dropped.
“I beg your pardon?” Zack asked, convinced he must have heard wrong since he’d barely been paying attention.
“A prenuptial agreement. Or rather, a postnuptial, in your case, since there’s nothing on record in your father’s file.”
Zack shook his head to clear it. “What the hell are you talking about? Why would I need something like that? I’m not married.”
Aubrey squirmed in his chair and suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Well, er, that’s not exactly accurate,” he hedged, looking everywhere but at Zack.
Zack sprung up from his chair and slapped his hands on Aubrey’s desk with a resounding thud. “Whatis that supposed to mean, Tattersall?” he thundered, shock and fury building inside him with equal force, leaving him feeling like a pressure cooker that wasn’t letting the steam out quickly enough.
Aubrey flinched and fumbled with the paperwork in front of him before eventually pushing a document across the table.
At first, Zack couldn’t even get his head around what he was seeing. This couldn’t be right. It must be a forgery or something. But if it wasn’t a legal document, surely even fucking Aubrey Tattersall would know it.
He scanned the contents, then collapsed back in his seat, the wind knocked out of him when he read the date.
That date would probably be ingrained in his mind forever. And now, finally, he knew what it was all about.
The courtroom. The judge. The girl and her mother.
Apparently, their parents had married them off that day, prior to the shooting.
What. The. Actual. Fuck!?
“Get it annulled,” he ground out, fury winning over the shock and threatening to overwhelm him.
“Ah… that might not be p-possible,” Aubrey stuttered, reading Zack’s anger. He hurried on. “There’s a s-statute of limitations that usually expires shortly after minors reach the age of majority, and that has long since passed.”
“A divorce, then,” Zack demanded, his tone positively arctic as he battled to keep himself under control.
