Page 57 of Destroyed

He stops in the doorway and looks over his shoulder.

“Do not do anything stupid right now. I have bigger fucking problems than Xavier to worry about.”

He nods his head and exits. As soon as the door clicks shut, I answer the phone.

“Cellar,” I say curtly. Two more voices come on the line, repeating me.

“Will someone explain why security can’t fucking do their job in The Cellar?” I growl out. “This is the second fucking time in a year that we have lost cargo.”

A deep, low voice replies. “I am aware of the problem we are having. I believe we all are. Two security members have already been taken care of.”

The other voice says, “This has to be an inside job or a genius hacker. No one else could figure out a way around our system.”

I slam my hand on my desk in anger. “How the fuck are we going to make sure this doesn’t happen again? We have quite a few long-time clients who are expressing fear of being exposed after hearing about someone drugged in a private diamond room.”

“Don’t forget about the mangled body we found a few weeks ago in the private torch room.”

“I know,” I grumble, thinking about the politician I used to golf with every Wednesday who has been considered a missing person for quite some time. I had to watch his wife bawl her eyes out on the news, asking for information on his whereabouts. In the meantime, somebody had burned the body, and the evidence of his murder was destroyed. I’m pretty sure I know who did it after watching the security footage.

Voice One interrupts my thoughts by saying, “These issues seem personal. Do either of you have anything going on we should all know about?”

Voice Two laughs, and I can't help but smirk when I hear his reply. I do happen to know who the voice belongs to, after all. Neither of us knows the identity of Voice One; however, we have some ideas. “If that’s your way of asking to meet for coffee without the masks and security, do let me know when,” Voice Two says.

Voice One doesn’t hesitate before speaking, “Pass.”

“Well, I guess it’s your loss then,” I respond. “I have things to do. I’ll let you both know if I find new information by our next meeting. In the meantime, we should all put up security for The Cellar and ourselves.”

“Agreed,” both voices respond in unison before the line dies.

I lean back in my chair, flipping my pen while I ponder this predicament. I should be happy my niece is out of my hair. I’ve had to care for her for this long, always keeping her in line and teaching her lessons.

There’s one minor issue: Sasha was my wildcard. She was my last play at ensuring I stayed securely in my spot in the Triad. I groomed her perfectly. An exquisite gift I planned on giving in exchange for an alliance.

I growl out my frustrations before flinging my pen across the room. It hits a frame, causing it to fall and shatter on the floor. My eyes catch on the locked drawer on my desk. Yanking it open, I grab the file sitting on top and open it. The words ‘genetic match’ and ‘biological son’ stick out like a sore thumb. He was sitting right under my nose all this time, and I didn’t even realize it. The real question is whether or not this was a giant coincidence or a well-thought-out methodical plan.

My regular cell phone rings, showing an unknown number on the caller ID.

“Lockhart,” I answer.

“Hello, Uncle,” Xavier speaks. “We need to talk.”

Chapter 42

Corrine

“What are you two up to today?” Xavier asks me, a gleam in his eye because he knows that the relationship between Sasha and I is contentious.

“I,” I whisper, leaning toward him and wrapping my arms around his torso. “I will be doing what I must do at the gallery uptown this morning.”

Concern crosses his face. “What if..”

“Xavier,” I pull myself close to his face, “we will be safe. I will have Jamison come with us if you insist. Lord knows that guy’s just looking to bash someone’s face at any point.”

Xavier smiles, comforted that I’m now thinking about how to protect myself and his sister. “Then what?”

“Then maybe I’ll take her shopping so she can get a glimpse of what it looks like to not dress like a hooker all the time.”

“Easy, Corrine." He leans back, so we’re looking at each other face-to-face. “You know she didn’t have much choice in all that.”

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