Page 65 of Searching for Hope

Barrett raises his brows. “Well, he’s definitely vocal. He lets us know pretty much anything that he’s unhappy with. It’s a lot.”

“The man is in a prison, Barrett.”

“I’ve been in worse situations, sir, and you don’t hear me complaining.”

I chuckle. “What did you uncover on the Gormans?”

“Not a lot, to be honest.” He takes a seat, leaning forward, elbows on knees. It’s not like him to take such a casual stance. “Through the mainstream routes, he’s a fine, upstanding citizen with barely a parking ticket to his name.”

“And through non-mainstream routes?”

“They know who he is, but not a lot of them are willing to talk.”

“Meaning he’s well connected.”

Barrett nods in agreement.

“Do you have anything that will help me at this upcoming dinner party? Something that will make him take me seriously?”

“He likes fishing, sir.”

“Fishing?”

“Yes, fly fishing to be exact.”

“And how do you expect that to help me?”

Barrett shrugs. “I just gather the information, sir. I don’t choose what to do with it.”

The rest of my day is spent fielding calls, answering emails, and fending off irate suppliers. I’m annoyed by them. Most of them have made a lot of money off me, and yet now, at the first sign of a bump in the road, they flock like gulls on discarded beach rubbish, squawking and pecking. I don’t really care about my business. I did once but it seems inconsequential in the face of someone’s life. But when it was operating correctly, it paid the bills plus allowed all the indulgences of scanning the globe in search of Hope. Right now, it is a ship without a rudder, a team without a captain.

It’s late in the evening when I go to find her. There is more work to be done, but it pales in significance. I find her in the dance studio. There’s been some work done on the studio since she arrived. One of the walls is lined with mirrors. There’s fresh paint on the walls.

She’s dressed all in black. Black leotard. Black tutu that hangs down to her ankles. Her legs are silhouetted by the sun streaming in through the windows. She’s fucking beautiful. The sort of beautiful that makes my heart lurch.

The music is haunting and melancholic. She lifts one foot, balancing on her toes, circling her ankle as though flirting with the thought of dance. Then she rises, lifting to the tip of her toes and crosses her legs, hovering gently, arms rising to intersect above her head. When she starts to move, she’s both graceful and detached. It’s as though her body controls her movements, dragging her to different positions with effortless elegance. The more she dances, the more poise and control she exerts over her movements. She arches back, folding over herself, hands almost scraping the ground.

Then she sees me.

She straightens herself, cheeks flushed and a smile floats across her mouth. And there goes that heart lurch again. That smile is all for me. She skips over, wrapping her arms around my neck, rising to her tiptoes and pressing her mouth to mine. Her kiss is slow and sensual and when she pulls away, I have to stop myself from chasing the sensation.

“You need to tell Gideon,” she says.

Her announcement surprises me. “Need to tell him what?”

“The truth.” She says this as she pushes her body flush against mine. I react instantly, my cock thickening at the feel of her breasts crushing into my chest. “It’s not fair that he believes a lie. I lived with one for most of my life and it just about destroyed me when I found out.”

“That’s different,” I say.

“How?” Her eyes are large and rounded when she looks up, almost as though the possibility of having a different viewpoint than hers is absurd.

“He already hates me for taking away his father, I’m not taking away the memory of his mother as well.”

chapter twenty-three

BERKLEY

There’s a line outside. Jericho pushes past them all and the bouncer opens the door, nodding in deference. But he holds his arm, barring me when I try to follow.

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