Page 66 of Chasing Infinity

I remain silent and he laughs again before pouring amber liquid from a crystal decanter into two glasses. He crosses the room and hands one to me. I’m struck with a sense of déjà vu as I observe the liquor in my tumbler, looking for any type of film over the top that could indicate lacing. I wouldn’t trust him if he was holding my life in his hands. My father sips his bourbon and watches me in amusement. I finally take a drink, feeling the alcohol warm my stomach.

My father clears his throat and sets me with a heady stare. “Now, let’s get to the point of why I asked you here. I know what you’re doing.”

A sick feeling settles in my stomach, and my pulse picks up. I need to keep control of this situation. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You think you can go around to the other organizations in New England, sticking your nose into business that shouldn’t pertain to you, and I wouldn’tknow?” he questions darkly, his tone low and ominous, making me feel more on edge. “Do you think I’m an idiot? I might not have been privy to your sneaking around while you were in the middle of it, but I’m very capable of putting pieces together when they’re laid right out in front of me.”

I cross my arms across my chest, gripping my hands into fists where he can’t see it. “How did you find out?”

“You think management doesn’t talk?” He laughs humorlessly and hits me with a steely-eyed glare. “Word of a freelancer asking too many questions travels quick. And you bouncing back and forth between operations made you intriguing. Of course, I didn’t realize it wasyouuntil you showed up back in town and started digging into my business. You’ve been going behind my back for the last few years, it would seem, snooping around in matters that should really be of no interest to you. After all, you said you didn’t want any part of my work. So I decided I needed to figure out what you were up to.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“You know your mother had a habit of sticking her nose into business that wasn’t hers, too,” my father says. He shakes his head in mock fondness as if to derail our conversation, release the tension. Then as he raises his tumbler to his lips, his eyes cut over to me, “You’re very much like her in that aspect.”

I let his backward compliment roll off me, my face remaining impassive. When I was younger, I’d allow his words to cut deep like he wanted, but not now. I know he’s trying to get a rise out of me—trick me into admitting something I shouldn’t.

It’s true. Over the last three or four years, I’ve been working the other organizations in the region, attempting to get a handle on just how far my father’s reach is when it comes to his business. I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret. I chose my undercover alias specifically, banking on his ability to instantly recognize it was me. Jackson, the middle name that he gave me. Lockwood, my mother’s maiden name.

My goal was to rattle him, maybe shake his solid footing by realizing that I was lurking around. If my father wants to believe that I’m trying to get a piece of the reward, let him.

“I would prefer that you keep my mother out of this. She’s not here to defend herself.”

“Are you worried I’ll sully her good name?” he asks. He’s toying with me, I know. “She was not as innocent as you think she was.”

I’m well aware of my mother’s role in my father’s shady business, but that isn’t important. What’s important is that she’s not involved anymore, quite the opposite, in fact. So I let that conversation piece die out, sipping at my drink and waiting for him to move on. This whole evening is a test of wills.

“Aren’t you going to ask what I found?” he asks, baiting me. I don’t respond, staring at him with a blank expression. When he recognizes that I won’t give him the satisfaction of playing along, my father tilts his chin up at me. “When you’re a man with the level of influence I have, red tape doesn’t really get in the way, you know? Your files might have been sealed to the average man, but I had no problem getting access.”

“And? Are you going to actually tell me or keep playing this game?”

My father looks at me smugly from his position in his chair. He waits a dramatic beat before drawling, “FBI Special Agent, Noah Lockwood.”

I swallow thickly. It would be impossible for my father to never figure out my occupation. Still, hearing him say it out loud is unsettling.I was hoping he’d be in cuffs before the truth came out.

“You look uncomfortable, Son. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” He chuckles darkly. “You should’ve known better. I wasn’t surprised, really, when I saw the file. You’ve always had this cute fantasy that you would be able to bring me down. I’ll tell you right again, Noah, it won’t work.”

“We’ll see.”

“No, we won’t. You’re going to let this go. Go back to your little FBI and tell them that you hit a dead end. Chasing after me is a fool’s errand, and I know you’re not willing to risk what it takes to see it through. Remember Noah, I know all your weak spots, and I know where she lives. This is my town, my business. I call the shots here—not you.”

I narrow my eyes at him, my pulse stammering. “Are you threatening Parks? You’ve already taken enough from her.”

He swirls his drink, looking down his nose at me. “Then that should be motivation enough. I’m telling you blatantly now, Noah, so you don’t get lost in the subtext. Back. Down. You will not win this fight against me. You’ve tried before, and you failed. And you’re not the first to attempt it either. This time will not be any different, I assure you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” I tell him, setting my glass down. “It already is different. I have proof of what you’re doing, and one little slip up on your part is all it will take for me to cash it in.”

“There’s no way,” he bites back, but his voice wavers slightly. I see the curiosity in his dark eyes—he wants to know what I have on him. Good. “And besides, whatever you have wouldn’t be enough to hold up in court.”

“Is that what you think?” Now I laugh at him. “I’m very good at my job, Father. I’ve taken down several operations—to be fair, they weren’t as far-reaching as yours—but I know what I need to do to succeed. Your organization will crumble, and I will be the one standing there holding the sledgehammer. Your days are numbered,Iassureyou.”

My father sneers at me. “Get out.”

“Gladly,” I deadpan. “Thanks for dinner. It was…insightful.”

As I turn to leave, he hits me with one more blow. “You’re going to regret this. If I were you, I’d keep a close eye on that diner girl of yours. I’m not above ruining her again if that’s what it takes to send you a message you won’t forget.”

I don’t turn around, but my throat feels tight. “You’ll have to go through me first, and I’d like to see you try.”

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