Faceless (Sinister Secrets Book 2), Candle Sutton [dar e dil novel online reading txt] 📗

Resting his hand on his Glock, Dak stepped from the vehicle. If Kevyn had told the man to leave, the man would leave. Dak would see to it personally, if needed.

He didn’t know who the man was or why he was here, but no one harassed his agents.

The man glanced up.

He was older than Dak expected. Probably sixties. Not exactly who he expected to be hanging around outside one of his agents’ houses.

An envelope hung from his fingers.

The man descended the steps, pausing briefly beside Dak. Lines creased his forehead and his bloodshot eyes looked sad. “When she cools down, she’ll want to see this.”

Dak glanced down at the proffered envelope for a moment before taking it.

Without another word, the man walked away, crossing the street to the shiny Porsche.

He looked down at the envelope.

Nothing was written on the outside.

Maybe he shouldn’t have taken the envelope. Clearly Kevyn hadn’t wanted it. Who was he to suggest she take it?

Well, it was too late now.

If she didn’t want it, she could throw it away. No harm in that.

He climbed the stairs and rang her doorbell.

No sound came from inside.

After several seconds passed, he rang again.

Still no sound.

Maybe she thought it was that guy. “Kev? It’s Dak.”

A few seconds later, the door swung open. Kevyn barely glanced at him before scanning the area behind him. “He’s gone, right?”

Dak nodded. “Yep. Got into that fancy Porsche and drove away.”

She jerked. “A Porsche?”

“Relatively new, too.” He followed her into the house and pushed the door closed behind him. Everything in him was dying to ask who the man was, but it wasn’t really any of his business.

However, the tension rolling off her, the agitation tightening her steps, was very much his concern. “You all right?”

She whipped around to face him. “He thought he could walk right in like nothing had happened! What a jerk!”

Man. He’d never seen her this worked up. “Who was that guy?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at the door as if it were somehow to blame. “My father. Or he could have been, if he hadn’t walked out on us before I turned one.”

Whoa, what? He hadn’t seen that one coming. He’d have to tread carefully. This was some shaky ground.

The envelope in his hand suddenly felt heavy. “Do you know what he wanted?”

She blinked. The question seemed to distract her from her anger. “I… He didn’t say.” She slowly shook her head. “Or, rather, I didn’t let him say.”

Dak held up the envelope. “Well, he said you’d want to look at this. Maybe it will shed some light.”

She didn’t move.

What must it be like to have your father show up suddenly, after so many years of zero contact? He couldn’t imagine.

A second ticked by before she slowly took the envelope.

“I really want to rip it up and throw it away.” She laughed at her own confession, but the laugh had a brittle edge.

“You could do that.” Although he suspected her curiosity would get the better of her.

Silence descended.

Maybe he should retrieve his wallet and leave her to deal with this in private. But would that be abandoning her when she needed support?

Lord?

He sensed he should stay.

“You okay?” He’d asked her that before and she hadn’t answered. Maybe she wouldn’t this time either.

She hesitated. “I’m confused. And mad as…” She bit her lip and turned her head, but not before he saw a tear slip down her cheek.

Yeah, probably lots of conflicting emotions flowing right now.

She cleared her throat. “So, uh, maybe we should see what’s inside this.”

“You want me to clear out?” He inclined his head toward his wallet, resting on the floor beside the sofa. “I wasn’t trying to butt in, but I need my wallet.”

“You’re welcome to hang out for a bit, if you’d like.”

Unless he missed his guess, she wasn’t ready to face the contents of the envelope alone. “Sure. Gas stations are open twenty-four hours.”

“Thanks.” She led the way into the kitchen, where she ripped open the envelope.

A newspaper article fell out.

Mayor’s son missing! Below the bold headline was a picture of Jason Boggess, his smile charming the camera and likely half the female population in Seattle.

Handwritten in red across the article, obscuring the text he’d already skimmed, were four simple words: I know what happened.

₪   ₪   ₪

That had gone well.

Mitch Taylor slammed the driver’s door on his Porsche, the impact echoing through the well-lit, secure parking garage.

The meeting with Kevyn replayed through his mind as it had ever since he’d left her house.

She was emotional and completely unreasonable. Got that from her mother.

Should he have been around more? Well, yeah. Sure. But what was done, was done. No changing the past.

He jabbed the button for the elevator.

Seriously. What did she expect him to do? Get on his knees and beg for forgiveness?

He pressed his lips together and stepped into the elevator.

Not him. No siree.

He didn’t beg. Not from anyone, for any reason.

After punching in his security code, he hit the button for the penthouse level.

If she’d looked in that envelope, she was probably regretting her actions right now.

He hadn’t given her his number or any way to contact him, so she was at his mercy. She’d only get the information he had if and when he decided to contact her again.

Sure, she’d probably try to track him down, but he’d done a good job of covering his tracks. Even with the resources available to her at the FBI, she’d have a really hard time finding him.

It’d serve her right if he didn’t contact her after the way she treated him. Her own father! She wouldn’t even