Page 64 of His

Astor’s knuckles turn white against the phone. He begins pacing. “Well did you get anything useful at all?”

“Yes, actually, I did. I compared your,” he clears his throat, “I mean Chloe Stone’s DNA to everyone we had in the system, and got a hit.”

I surge off the bed and take Astor’s other hand in mine.

“Your daughter’s DNA is a statistical match to a man named Leo Harrison.”

The phone drops from Astor’s hands.

My jaw drops—make that unhinges.

Leo?!

Chloe’s real father is Leo—Leo, the man who has worked for Astor for a decade, first a mercenary, then as a property manager. Suddenly, it makes sense. In managing Astor’s homes, Leo would have had unrestricted, continuous full access to Valerie at all times. And no one would have thought twice about him being in and out of the homes they shared.

Holy. Shit.

“Where is he?” Astor lunges forward and fists Cillian’s shirt. “Where the fuck is he?!”

“I don’t know. Man, you’ve got to calm down?—”

“Where is he?!” Astor bellows, the veins bulging from his neck.

He pushes past Cillian and storms into the hallway, fists clenched, chest heaving.

Cillian and I rush after him.

Astor kicks open the door to the master bedroom, sending it popping on its hinges.

Jackie surges up and stumbles backward. Brittney runs in from the living room, dazed and confused having been awoken by the screaming.

Valerie’s eye’s pop open.

“You fucking liar!” Astor yells, ripping the covers off her bed.

Jackie screams. “Stop! Stop!”

More cracks of thunder, pops of lightning. The sheets of rain create a loud white noise, adding to the ominous atmosphere.

“Brittney, go outside. Get out of here. Now.” I grab her shoulders and push her toward the door. Eyes bugging, she stumbles out of the door in nothing but her socks.

Astor grabs Valerie and hauls her to her feet. Her pale, gaunt face panics as she tries to get her footing, tries to understand what the hell is happening.

“He’s going to kill her!” I yell breathlessly to Cillian as he lunges into action and grabs Astor’s shoulders.

“Let her go, Astor.”

But Astor doesn’t hear his friend, his nurse, or me. He’s glaring at Valerie with wild, feral eyes, his face contorted with rage.

He grabs the collar of her night dress and begins shaking her like a rag doll. Her neck flies backward, her jaw clashing. “You lying bitch!”

“Astor, let her go.” Cillian yanks Astor back. He stumbles backward, into Cillian, as Valerie crumbles to the floor.

Jackie, now crying, rushes to her aide.

Like whiplash, Astor spins around and slams his fist into Cillian’s face. The sound is sickening. The look on his face is terrifying.

I gasp and jump back as Astor delivers another devastating blow, without allowing his friend even a second to register what’s happening. Blood sprays the wall behind them.

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