Page 60 of Sardonic Burn

I’m standing next to him before he can say anything else. I snatch the papers from his hands and spread them on the desk before bringing a chair for myself to sit on.

Hudson finds a hidden stash of alcohol and just drinks from the bottle. He joins me, though he’s standing next to me. All I can smell is the musky scent mixed with alcohol that oozes from his body.

“Glen Cavanaugh,” I announce, reading his name out loud.

“Any relatives?”

Was Hudson’s voice always this deep?

“His wife died during labor twenty-seven years ago.”

“That’s around the time he also died. So he has a child out there?”

“Quite possible, though there’s nothing on the kid.”

I shuffle through the papers, trying to find if there’s anything on the child. The papers are old; since it’s been well over two decades since The Silencer was killed, I won’t find anything else here.

My phone is in my hands, and I snap a few pictures and immediately send them to Lucas. If someone can find the child, it’s him. If the child is even alive, that is.

“Look here.” Hudson slides one paper in front of me, and I watch as it falls. “According to this, Glen died after his wife. And he set up an account for his kid.”

“Right.” I nod. “But the chances of the kid keeping his given name are low, especially if he’s out to get revenge for his father.”

We continue with our research in silence. My head throbs at the sudden burst of information, and, once again, I feel utterly and completely useless. The child might not even be alive, and here I am, looking through the stack of hay for a needle. A needle that might not even exist.

The only person who truly might be able to help aside from Lucas is Dylan. And he’s nowhere to be found. I’ve texted, called, even tracked down his most trusted employees, but no one has heard from him in a while.

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I swallow the lie. Then, I glance at Hudson, who isn’t looking at me. “Actually, can you use your connections to see where Dylan might be?”

Hudson’s body freezes, and he blinks. Slowly, he turns to look at me with such a fake smile that he resembles a swamp monster.

“Uh, why?”

I blink. “What do you mean, why? He’s my fiancé, I’m worried because he’s missing.”

Hudson’s shoulders go rigid, his jaw clenches, and he closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath. It’s like an eternity passes before his eyes snap open, a blank, expressionless stare greeting me.

“Are you sure he didn’t just ditch you?”

I frown. “That doesn’t sound like Dylan.”

“And why are you so certain? Men are pigs, you know.”

Involuntarily, a snort slips from my mouth. “Dylan loves me. He wouldn’t just leave me.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you love him?”

I pause to think. “Romantically? No. But I’ll learn to love him once we’re married. He’s worthy of love, and he’ll make a great husband.”

An expression of displeasure appears on his face. It’s something between a scowl and a grimace, and he doesn’t even try to hide the look of pure disgust. Then, he clears his throat and steps back, leaving me to wonder what the hell that was all about.

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