Page 91 of Paternal Instincts
“He needs to see a doctor.”
“I said it’s fine, Bess. Leave it.” Benedict pressed the good hand over the bandage, covering the blood stain. His shirt was smeared red as well.
I focused on the injury. “Are you in need of medical attention, Mr. Davis? You seem to be bleeding a lot.”
“I’m fine. It’s a fresh cut. I’ll bandage it properly when you leave. Are we finished?”
“No.” I glanced at Aslan, who waited for me to guide the interview. Benedict’s stubbornness wasn’t doing him any favors. “What’s the cause of the hostility between you and Imogen?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does.”
He refused to answer, jaw tightening.
“What is the money for? Why drain your bank account and steal from your son’s business for a woman you loathe?”
Benedict stood stubbornly silent, a vein pulsing at his temple.
I sighed. “Mr. Davis, have you ever had sexual relations with your daughter-in-law.”
Bess gasped.
Benedict roared, “Get out of my house! I will not stand here and—”
“Benny, stop yelling.” Bess got to her feet, trembling, one hand pressed to her mouth. “Just tell them.”
Benedict ignored his wife, but he brought his voice down to a calmer level. “I will not stand here and be accused of such vileness in my own house. Please leave. Do your job and find my grandson.” He turned, seemingly intending to storm from the room when Aslan stepped into his path. “Move.”
“We’re not finished,” my husband explained. He presented Benedict with another form.
The man tore the page from Aslan’s grasp and skimmed the text, brow furrowing. “What is this?”
“A warrant to collect a DNA sample.” Aslan withdrew the test kit from the brown paper bag. “You can do this amicably right now, or we have the right to arrest you for not complying with a legal court order. What will it be?”
Benedict’s shoulders fell.
Bess collapsed back on the chair, squashing her decorative pillows, and cried.
***
The instant we landed in the Equinox, my phone rang. Adrenaline surged as I scrambled to remove the device from my pocket. “Oh my god. Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod. It must be Bryn. It’s time, Az.” The phone got stuck. Contorting my body, half falling over the middle console, I struggled to retrieve it.
“Relax.” Aslan righted me. “Don’t panic. See what she says.”
Except, the screen did not announce an incoming call from our surrogate, and all my excitement drained as Costa’s name flashed on the screen. Likely sensing my disappointment, Aslan squeezed my shoulder. “Answer it.”
Mumbling curses, I hit Connect. “I hate you. You about gave me a heart attack,” I snapped in place of hello. “I thought you were Bryn.”
“Bah, I’m way prettier. Did you know your partner drives like a maniac? I’m scared for my life right now.”
I smiled as Aslan started the car and waited for instructions. “Jordyn is a certified defensive driving instructor. Trust me, she knows what she’s doing. What’s going on?”
“Edwards called. Imogen showed up at Sunnybrook Hospital in premature labor about an hour ago. We’re on our way, but Jordyn said to call you. She wants you to meet us there.”
“Imogen. Shit. Is Crowley with her?”
“Not that we’ve been told. Anyhow, we didn’t get a chance to collect DNA from Flynn or Jude. Nixon was alone at the house with the liaison officer and his daughter. They’re on their way to the hospital now, too, by the way. Jordyn wants to give you the warrants and have you chase the other yahoos down.”
