Page 41 of The Omega Verse

“It’s Amato,” she murmurs, pushing her food around her plate. “I took the name of my last foster parent.”

“Ah, yes, that’s right. It made you very difficult to track down. You have barely any paper trail at all.”

Cass is now openly fidgeting. “I didn’t do this for attention, Mr Hoover. Or for Steven’s money. And the last thing I want is a spotlight…”

Jett chooses that moment to slink back inside, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Well, that makes one of us in the room.” He heads over to the table and scoops up a piece of garlic bread. “Except for maybe Mark… Why are you here again, Mark?”

Hoover pats his mouth with a napkin and takes another sip of bourbon. “He’s here to oversee Ms Amato’s DNA test.”

Cass goes rigid in her chair, but River sets his fork down sharply. “Mark asked to come meet Cass, and I said yes, because it’s what Steven wanted.”

“It’s about his estate, Ms Amato,” Mark says. “But I need you to answer a couple of questions first.”

She leans forward and hugs her elbows, still looking uncertain. “Okay.”

“Steven’s first bike. Can you tell me what it was called?”

A small smirk slips free. “You mean the first one he didn’t nick out of someone’s yard? Then it was an old BMX he rescued from the tip, repainted, and named Ghost Rider. He used to dinky me all over town on that thing.”

The lawyer nods. “And the first CD he bought with his own money?”

She pauses to think. “Nirvana, maybe? No. It would have been the Brian Blade Fellowship. I remember, because I’d never heard music like that before. He’s a jazz drummer, right?”

“And a goddamn legend,” Silva confirms, reaching over to stroke the back of her neck. “But why are you asking her this stuff?”

“They were Steven’s security questions for his will,” the lawyer explains. “He didn’t get a chance to update it, because… well, because of the tragedy that befell him. But you should know you’re one of his beneficiaries, Ms Amato. As Miss Cassandra Lynch, because that’s the name he thought you still held, but the security answers are as valid as a DNA test in this instance.”

River nods, looking pleased. “Do you need anything else, Mark?”

“Not for now.” He takes a bundle of keys from his briefcase and walks around the table to hand them to her. “Steven’s assets will be officially settled once probate is finalised, but he wanted you to have this as soon as we found you.”

She stares at him in bewilderment. “Found me?”

“Steven had a number of investigators looking for you right up until his passing, Ms Amato. He never gave up. Finding you was a very high priority for him. And every month, like clockwork, he asked for an update.”

Cass sucks in a ragged breath that we can all hear, and I rise from my chair, but she’s already shaking her head. “I’m okay. I just… never expected this.” She touches the edge of the key ring, her throat bobbing. “Can you tell me what they’re for?”

Well, Steven was very specific about this next part.” The lawyer takes a business card from his briefcase and hands it to Jett. “Mr Colson, he requested that you escort Ms Amato to this address. He asked for you and you alone.” There’s a touch of discomfort on his face as he looks around the room. “Please understand that the will was written a couple of years ago, and doesn’t reflect your current… circumstances.”

Cass looks up at Jett, who’s gone an interesting shade of grey. “Does this make sense to you?”

He shrugs, but that mix of guilt and anger is back in his eyes. “Maybe. He was a paranoid bastard, so my guess is he’s hidden something there for you.”

“Then I want to go.” She tries to read the card, but Jett tucks it in his pocket and heads for another drink. “How far away is it?”

“Less than an hour,” the lawyer says, and Cass is already on her feet. Silva jumps up, too, but Jett palms the nape of his neck and waves them off. “Yeah, okay. We can head out tomorrow some time.”

“No.” Cass clutches the keys in her hand and heads towards the door. “Now.” But when Jett just takes another sip of his drink, she narrows her eyes at him, and they’re suddenly locked in a glare that makes my skin prickle. I don’t know what the fuck he’s got against her, because their sexual tension is off the charts.

“What’s the hurry?” he finally drawls, like he’s itching for a fight. “Steven’s been dead three months. What’s another day going to matter?”

“Because this is why I’m here, Jett. Steven is literally talking to me from the grave.” She looks at the lawyer. “Right? He wanted me to do this?”

“He did. And as soon as possible.”

“Good.” She strides back over and grabs Jett’s wrist. Whiskey slops across her hand, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Then it’s decided. We go.”

“Wait, a damn second!” Jett looks pissed, but I can see the strain under his bluster. “Nothing’s decided, for fuck’s sake. I’ve had a skinful, so I can’t drive until the morning, anyway.”

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