“Not my style.”

“What is your style, Marcus?”

My knee is released but I’m still not free as he gives my shoulder a good grip in exchange. He leans in and whispers something that captures my breath and sends chills down my spine. “Knowing where your wife is every moment of the day, watching her every move, where and when she eats, sleeps, jogs, works, shops... that’s my style. That’s a pretty green dress she bought, I think I’ll pick one up for my wife.”

I step away from the sick prick. He really is like Paul, minus his obsession with teenage boys and alcohol, with a dash of David thrown into the mix. Add a pinch of energy and brains... out comes a fresh face for the industry, more dangerous than anyone ever before him.

“I was hoping that would twist your gut, Everton. I’ll get inside your head without molesting you or breaking your bones. Your wife...”

“When do you want the money?” I cut him off. The cycle may continue, but I’m done. “When?” I demand.

“Just like that? Seems too easy, like we should get in a fight or something.”

My father’s calling. I look at my phone and then at Marcus, fuck it. What’s more important, Ivy, or the threats from a revolting former porn star turned businessman? I pick up.

“She alright?” I whisper.

“She will be. Unfortunately, she had her stomach pumped. That’s an upsetting experience for a young woman to go through, but yes, son, she’s going to be okay. She’s damn lucky you were at the Scarlett. You saved her life. If you hadn’t been there, she wouldn’t have made it.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. Suddenly, the situation with my father that took place in the restroom at the police station seems trivial. I still have a lot of questions for him, especially about today, but my anger from finding out I have a half-sister has decreased.

“You still there?”

“Yeah, Dad, that’s great news. Fantastic news actually. Anything I can do?”

I listen to his breathing for a moment while he pauses and drinks. It’s probably some form of caffeine to help him through the night. He smacks his lips and speaks softly into the phone. “What you can do is disappear tomorrow with Sophia. Get away for the day, find yourself again, and then show up to the Scarlett in the evening with a healthier mind. I need you to come back to me, Cove.” He chokes up with his final three words. “I love you.”

My voice disappears as I try and respond. He waits until my heart releases from its wounded state and I can finally speak. “I love you too, Dad.”

“Aww, it’s a love fest between the Everton boys,” Marcus laughs in the background. “You’ve got your cell turned up pretty high, don’t you want some privacy?”

“Who is that?” my father asks.

“It’s no one important. I’m glad Ivy’s okay. Can we talk in the...”

Marcus laughs again, louder, and more sinister this time. “No one important? What a dickhead you are, Cove. Get off the phone so we can finish our conversation.”

“Tell me now who that is... it sounds like...”

“Everything’s fine,” I say. “I’m just talking to an old friend. I already have plans to take Soph out tomorrow, but we’ll check-in with you throughout the day to make sure everything’s still ok with Ivy.”

“Cove...”

I hang up before my father has a chance to ask me twenty questions about who Marcus Wild is, and how we met.

Marcus’s cell rings and he inhales as he pulls it from his front pocket, tossing it in the air and catching it with one hand. “Give you a grand if you can guess who’s calling,” he smiles from ear to ear. He taps the screen and looks into my eyes as he answers. “Hey, big daddy Everton. Turns out your son’s not looking to make a buck either.”

“Jesus.” My father? Sophia’s right, he knows a hell of a lot more than he’s telling me, and Marcus has done nothing but lie to me since we exchanged hellos. Shouldn’t have expected anything less.

“Is that right? You want me to leave him alone? Ha, is that a joke?” Marcus holds his cell with his pinky in the air.

“Give me the phone,” I reach out to speak to my father. “Give me your goddamn cell,” I demand.

“Hey, Cove, I’m in the middle of something,” he replies. “Give me a sec with your old man.”

I take out my phone and call my father but he doesn’t pick up. My hands run through my hair as I pace in front of the sofa with breathless gasps, in a panic about my dad. “I asked you if you were here to see my father... said I couldn’t handle anymore surprises from him... how do you know him? Why is he calling you?”

“You hear your son? He’s a mess. Looking kinda pale. I’ll have to call you back.”

He leans back on the sofa with a smug grin. I’d love to kick the dumbfuck in the head, and just my luck, he’s at the perfect height to do so.

“Go ahead, I know what you’re thinking,” he laughs. “You were never any good at masking your emotions.”

“I’m going upstairs to get you that check. I’m not meeting you anywhere after today, and screw you if you think I’ll ever let another person take control of my life.”

“I think I already have. You’ve got two weaknesses as far as I’m concerned, alcohol and your wife... three actually, considering how wound up you get about your father, wait... four, I forgot you’re a momma’s boy. Hell, I’ve got a lot of options here.”

“No, no options. I’m getting you the check.” I head for the elevator as he clears his throat.

“You ever read that book, Watership Down? A tale for children about rabbits?”

I stop dead in my tracks, standing in front of the elevator door. That story scared the shit out of me as a kid. And for some odd reason my heart skips a beat when he mentions it. It gave me nightmares for a good month.

“You remember Woundwort? His mother was killed by a weasel?” he asks. “He grew up to be a domineering fuck, right? Killed off the lead rabbits in several warrens, becoming chief rabbit; a hungry and aggressive terror to all.”

I tap the button and the elevator door opens. “That book ends in a bloodbath, Marcus. Woundwort was evil and sadistic and he disappeared. No one ever heard from him again. The dog he fought in that last battle probably ripped his head off.”

“You think? I like the other ending to the story.” I turn around and see him fiddle with his watch one last time before the door’s about to close. “The story parents would tell to terrify their kids, warning if they didn’t do as they were told, Woundwort would return.”

The door closes as my hands shake from frustration, a rage over my father’s lies, fright over the unknown, and total exhaustion. Get the check, and get rid of him.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Get up. I need the check,” I call out to Sophia while sliding on a pair of jeans. I open our bedroom closet safe to get our gun. It’s not loaded, and I’d never use it, not after my evening at the Scarlett. Still, it looks threatening and could be an effective deterrent to whatever comes my way. “Soph!” I shout, positioning the gun in my back waistband.

She fidgets and rises slowly. “Babe?” she says with heavy-eyes. “That took you a long time, you need some fiber?”

“I need the check, and I need it now,” my voice is direct. I want to get this taken care of immediately. I want that fucker out of this city. “David’s top man is in the lobby, the guy who took your father’s place in the company, he wants the check.”

“What? Who is it?” she asks, now wide-awake and showing authority in her voice. “It’s over there, in the drawer,” she points as she gets dressed in a rush. “What’s his name? And what the hell is he doing in the lobby this time of the night?”

“Fuck,” I fume and gaze at the check.

“What’s wrong?”

“You have to sign it over to him, and I don’t know the asshole’s real name, only his porn name, which means I have to go down and ask him, then come back up here to have you sign it. Fuck!”