He narrows his eyes. “Then who is?”

I’m somewhat surprised he doesn’t already know. I thought Commodore Riscoff knew everything.

“Ricky’s mom.”

Five

Lincoln

“Fuck!” I slap my hand against the back of the door Whitney walked out of, not knowing what the hell to think. She wouldn’t defend herself, and to me, that implies guilt.

But I don’t want to believe that. I can’t believe that.

Then again, who the hell else could have done this? She was married to Ricky Rango. She has to be in charge of his estate. Right?

I head for the bedroom, throw on some clothes, and snag my keys from the counter in the kitchen.

Last time I sent her running, I was young and stupid, and I waited too long to go after her. This time, I’m not making the same mistake.

Five minutes from the time Whitney slammed the door, I’m in my Range Rover, hauling ass down my driveway . . . just in time to see my gate close behind a familiar black Escalade as it cuts through a throng of reporters.

Whitney is nowhere to be seen, but I can’t miss the press camped out at my gate.

Shit. Fuck. Goddammit.

I call Commodore. No answer.

“Come on, old man.”

I try his driver, but Martin doesn’t answer either.

Fucking hell. I could strangle the meddling old man right now, but that’s not an option. He already made it clear that he doesn’t want me having anything to do with Whitney, and with this news breaking . . . he’s likely to take her as far away from me as he can get. Or to someone who wants me with her even less.

Like her aunt Jackie. Whose house is probably already swarming with reporters too, if they’ve done any research at all.

My phone rings, and I glance at the display in my car. McKinley. My first thought is that something happened with my mother.

“Is she okay?”

“Who?” my sister asks.

“Mother.”

“I haven’t talked to her yet today. I’m at work. I wanted to know if you’ve laid the groundwork for me to get Jackie Gable back, or if you’re still working on pulling your head out of your ass.”

McKinley hasn’t heard, which means she’s a sitting duck.

“You need to double the security at the resort right now.”

“What? Why?”

“Ricky Rango’s estate filed a request for a paternity test to be performed to prove he was Dad’s biological son.”

My sister sucks in a sharp breath. “Are you serious? Is that why Whitney came back?”

“I don’t know what the hell is going on, if you want to know the absolute truth. But I’m working on pulling my head out of my ass, so I need a favor from you and I don’t want to pull rank.”

“I’m listening.” Her response is hesitant.

“I made a mistake this morning, and I need to fix it.”

“Does this mistake have to do with Whitney Gable again?”