Page 30 of Seven

“Yeah, that could piss some folks off.”

“Exactly.” Shep handed me a file folder. “To make matters worse, these clients are members of one of the Russian mafias.”

“Oh, goddamn,” I grumbled. “What the hell was he doing getting tied up with them?”

“I’m sure they were paying him a pretty penny.”

“Any idea which one he was working with?”

“The Volkov family.”

“Damn. This just keeps getting better and better.” I started flipping through the pages in the file, noting the various properties and images of the Volkov crew, as I asked, “You think they’re the ones who knocked him off, or was it someone else?”

“I’m still working on that.”

I nodded, then said, “So, what’s the maybe not-so-good news?”

“Tallie has a kid.”

I was still trying to process the curveball he’d just thrown at me when he handed me a second folder. I quickly opened it and felt like the rug had been pulled from beneath me the second I saw his photograph. He had dark hair—just like mine, green eyes—just like mine, and a slight widow’s peak—just like mine.

I was trying to convince myself that the resemblance was just a coincidence when Shep announced, “His name is Ford Jameson Warren.”

“Whoa,” Goose turned to me with surprise. “You’re Jameson Holt.”

“That I am.”

“Ah, hell. Don’t tell me that kid is yours.”

“Can’t be for sure, but it’s certainly looking that way.”

Shep motioned his head towards the folder as he added, “He was born in May of ’18.”

“Tallie was sent to Paris in August of ’17.”

“You reckon she was already pregnant?”

“If she was, I didn’t know anything about it.” I shook my head. “Holy shit. Surely to God, she hasn’t kept my kid from me all these fucking years.”

“Maybe he isn’t yours.” Hoping to console me, Goose suggested, “It could’ve been a rebound hookup or something. Some douchebag she met when she got to Paris.”

“Not a chance.” I slammed the folder shut, but the photograph of Ford’s strikingly familiar face burned into my mind.

Goose let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Man, if this kid is yours, Tallie’s got some explaining to do.”

“She’s got more than explaining to do.” I stood abruptly, the chair screeching against the floor. “If Ford is mine, I’ve missed seven fucking years of his life. First steps, first words, birthdays… All because she chose to keep him from me.”

“Hold on, now.” Goose raised a hand, his tone cautious. “Don’t go jumping to conclusions just yet. Maybe there’s a reason she kept quiet.”

“Oh, yeah?” Anger simmered beneath my skin as I snapped, “Like what? What excuse could she have for keeping my kid from me?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the question. “Maybe she thought it was for the best, or maybe she was scared.”

“Scared of what? Me?” My throat tightened at the thought. “She knew I would’ve done anything for her.”

“More like her father and his threats. You see who he’s working for. Maybe she thought telling you would jeopardize her life in Paris. Or she might’ve thought she was protecting the kid or even you. I don’t know.”

“Scared or not, she should’ve told me.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I had a right to know.”

---