My tone was light, mocking even, in the way Marty and I communicated best, but even to my own ears, the joke felt forced. Still, he indulged me, keeping the conversation light and distracting. Marty always knew what I needed, when I needed it. I hoped wherever he ended up, they took good care of him.
“Oh, right. Thaaaaaaaat.” He stretched the word with an exaggerated eye roll. “Is my cock safe?” He joked, placing the notepad over his crotch in jest. “Or do I not qualify for castration by the allegedMutilation Mistress?”
“Dear God, it’s terrible, isn’t it?” I grimaced and slid deeper into the soft seat of the couch. “It’s hard to run a company when I’m so busy finding new men to mutilate.” I rubbed two fingers at each temple, the throbbing thrum of my permanent headache back with a vengeance. “They won’t be here long, Marty. My intention is to get this ridiculous investigation wrapped up as soon as possible. Weston’s great at what he does. I’m glad he’s on my team.”
A warm smile crept across my assistant’s face at the mention of his husband. “Yes, he is. Promise, Laney, he’ll make them pay for all this bullshit.” The smile curved down into a disgusted curl.
“Speaking of men you mightwantto mutilate…” Marty’s lips pressed into a firm line before popping obnoxiously, as if to emphasize his next point. “Your father’s been calling.”
Of course, he had. He’d heard the rumors and was panicked his cash cow was about to be put out to pasture. More importantly, he’d want to make sure he had access to my wealth in some form if my assets were frozen, which, if they came up with more evidence before Aaron could hold his press conference, was the next likely step.
Weston had helped reach the right contacts for what we’d planned at the end of the week. Private contractors and reporters who had been sworn to secrecy—which naturally meant it would be leaked to one source or another, and we could expect a huge turnout. No one knew it was Aaron Rodriguez speaking. Instead, we’d used me as the bait, stating I would speak publicly about the allegations for the first time. At the time of the press conference, all supporting evidence of Alvarez's ties to Aaron and me would be presented to the FBI, local police, and the Securities and Exchange Commission. Gertie Baker had come through, so we had everything we needed to prove Alvarez had been after me from the start. I only wished we could pin Blackbird’s murder on him, to give my friend the peace she deserved beyond the grave.
Kellan had been most worried about security, and I couldn’t blame him. We’d gone to great lengths for several months to keep Aaron safe from Antonio. To have it all come crashing down now to put Alvarez is his metaphorical grave…
Well, I couldn’t think about it without a golf ball-sized lump in my throat. Losing Aaron wasnotan option. Not after I had lost Kellan.
We had contingency plans and the maximum amount of security Sammy could offer, and it would have to be good enough. Burying Alvarez, clearing my name, giving Aaron the opportunity to have a real life again. We needed every piece to move on the board in the rightsequence, so we could knock Antonio out of the game completely. It would take white-collar castling and bloody attacks, but we’d end the game with a checkmate. There was no other way.
“Laney?” Marty prompted, breaking through my thought spiral. “Would you like me to call him back, or…”
“No, that’s fine. I’ll do it.” I shuffled the paperwork we’d been reviewing on the coffee table and offered him a faint smile. “I’ll call him now and get it over with to save you more voicemails.”
Marty stood and stretched his lanky limbs before heading through the glass door into the hallway. “I’ll grab you another coffee for mental strength.”
That garnered a laugh. “Always taking care of me,” I teased and walked over to the cleared glass desk overlooking the landscape of crisp blue sky and buildings below. The mountains loomed so close, it felt like I could touch them just beyond the pane.
“Laney?” I turned to face Marty hovering in the doorway, dark-eyed and tense. “I’ll always take care of you. But make sure you’re taking care of yourself, okay? You’re only human.”
He didn’t wait for my response—striding down the hallway without a backward glance, on a mission to keep me caffeinated and sane with the inevitable exasperation that came with being Camden Lane’s daughter.
You’re only human. Since college, I hadn’t felt human. I was an enforcer, a juror of justice, a purveyor of pain. I built my empire in the daylight and stalked shadows in the twilight, each issued punishment another plate in my armor. These last few months had stripped each molded shield off my body, exposing my naked vulnerabilities and the deepest desires of my heart. I had been learning just how human I was in these last several weeks, and I loathed its uncertainty.
Warily, I picked up the phone and dialed my father’s number.
“Hillary,” he barked into the phone. His irritation filtered through the line like I was a disappointing teenager instead of the adult daughter who’d saved him from rotting in a jail cell.
“Daddy,” I replied coolly, the pulse between my brows reminding me to make this call short and salty—it would be anything but sweet. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“To what do you—have you seen the news?” he sputtered angrily. “Can you tell me why you’re letting the Lane name be dragged through the mud like we’re impoverished riff-raff? I raised you better than this.”
Visceral, spine-shaking anger tore through me, its power potent and surprising. No “How are you?” Not “How can I help you through this?” Though I never would have expected it. My tolerance of this behavior had evaporated as quickly as my sense of security. My crumbling walls had made a significant dent in my self-assurance and, along with it, my patience for my father.
“Let me stop you right there, oh, sperm donor of mine.”
Daddy was no longer applicable. Daddy implied a man of trust, of protection. Someone to count on, to nurture and provide. Camden Lane was none of those things, and he would no longer get the privilege of the title.
“Yourname has nothing to do with this.Yourscandal has already been highly publicized—or have you forgotten? This is my name on the line.Myempire. And frankly, none of your business.” I switched gears before I said something I’d truly regret. “What do you want?”
Harsh breaths echoed through the speaker, and I pictured my red-faced father huffing at his desk in his precious study—the desk and study I had generously paid for. The soft tones of a woman filled in the background, along with the clink of a crystal tumbler and splashing liquid.
When he finally spoke, his words had softened, if only slightly.
“I want assurances you will fix this. I don’t care if you did it. I don’t care if you continue to do what they’re saying, justfix it. Lanes don’t quit, we don’t concede, and we don’t getcaught.”
Laughter erupted from the pit of my belly. The waves of chuckles cramped my abdomen and brought tears to my eyes as my body shook with the audacity of it all.
“Lanes don’t get caught,” I repeated, the words tasting like ash on my tongue. “But they do, don’t they? Shame on me, sperm donor, because you didn’t learn your lesson. I bailed you out, hoping you’d have something in your heart worth redeeming. Maybe I did it because I was hoping to feel closer to the mother you never let me ask about. I guess I’ve had to learn my lessons the hard way too.”
