Perhaps we can make a meeting to go over what you need. Next Tuesday at 4:00?

We did not need to make a meeting. And it was Wednesday; the next Tuesday would give him a whole week to hide whatever it was he was intent on hiding and play on his history to recruit my father to shut me down.

I knew it.

So I wasted little time firing back, You may have another hour on your deadline. Please send what I requested by 1:00. If you don’t, Gill will be at your office to collect what I requested at 1:30. Thank you.

I sent it.

Ten minutes later, I got a phone call.

It was David.

I ignored it.

At five after one, I started getting the files.

I opened them immediately and began going through them.

* * * * *

Three Hours Later

It was fortunate David sent what I requested (except a good sight more than I needed), this keeping my mind off the fact that Sebring wanted me to meet him at Hotel Teatro and that I wanted to meet him at Hotel Teatro very badly even though I would not be doing that.

But, since David sent far more than what I requested (this suggested he was burying me under information so I wouldn’t find evidence of wrongdoing), I was very busy.

Therefore I was engrossed in going through the order manifests of one of our legitimate companies when I heard the knock on my door.

My “Come in,” was distracted.

I kept my gaze to the computer as I heard the door open and shut.

It took several seconds before I realized someone was in my office but they had not spoken.

I swiveled in my chair to turn my attention to the door.

Tommy was standing there.

Standing there looking at me.

Standing there looking at me with an expression on his face I could read.

I held his gaze, not believing what I saw, not wishing to experience the wash of raw putrescence it sent flooding through me, then fighting back the rage that rushed through in its wake.

With everything else—shockingly not the least of which being my brief but affecting encounter with Nick Sebring—all of it piling on and being too much, for once I did not control my reaction, consider every move available and then move forward cautiously (or, as was often the case, not at all).

I surged out of my seat and quickly made my way to the door.

“Liv—” Tommy began.

He shut his mouth when I sliced my eyes to him.

“You should’ve called me.”

I made it to the door and hauled it open.

“It was a direct order,” he said.

I stopped and asked, “Dad? Or Georgia?”

He didn’t answer even as he did.

His eyes moved across the hall.

Without hesitation, my feet moved across the hall.

“Liv!” he clipped.