Stray
Page 107
Static crackled in my ear as he turned on the speakerphone. I could almost see him thinking, eyes closed, hands crossed over his stomach as he leaned back in his chair. “Three years. And you give Marc another chance.”
Indignant, I huffed air through my nose. “Nice try, but my private life is not part of the deal. I’l give you two and a half years, and Marc can partner me on the hunt. Take it or leave it.” A tingle zinged through me. I’d always wanted to say that to my father.
“You’l stay within sight at all times?”
“Of course. Is that a yes?” I held my breath, waiting for his answer.
“Is that your final offer?”
“Yeah, and you’re damn lucky to get it.”
He chuckled, apparently amused by my attempt to hardbal him. “Done.” He paused, and I heard what sounded like a pen tapping against the top of his desk.
“That’s assuming I can get Umberto and Rick to go along, since this involves their Prides, too. And the Taylors. But I think I can convince them.”
Yes! A successful negotiation with my father was almost as good as another chance to kick Miguel’s ass. Both at once? Better than Christmas. I stood in front of the mirror doing Ethan’s victory dance, pointed fingers and al .
“Faythe?”
I glanced back at Eric’s phone, lying on Miguel’s bed where I’d dropped it when the urge to dance struck. Flushing from embarrassment, I grabbed it and held it back up to my ear. “Yeah. I’m here. Sorry, I dropped the phone.” I knelt on the floor and looked under the bed but found nothing more than a frighteningly thick accumulation of dust.
“I’ll have Michael make the arrangements.” More papers shuffled. “The guys should be there to get you in just over an hour. You’l al be flying out of Jackson Municipal Airport on the first available flight. I’l make the reservations. Do you need anything else from me?”
I hesitated, going over the plan in my head. “Yeah. I need one of Carissa’s brothers to stay behind and help, so everything looks normal. Or maybe one of the enforcers. Can you swing that?”
“I’m sure I can.”
“Great. Thanks, Daddy.” I left Miguel’s room and tried the next door. It was a bathroom, which I passed over in favor of the last remaining room. It had to be Eric’s, and my nose confirmed my guess.
“What about Abby?” I asked, tossing clothes from Eric’s dresser. We couldn’t bring her, even if she wanted to go. She’d been through so much already, and should never have to see Miguel again.
“One of the guys can drop the rest of you at the airport, then drive her back to the ranch. Her parents are pretty anxious to see her.”
I poked through Eric’s desk drawer, pushing aside pencils, stamps, paper clips, and several unlabeled CDs. “You can tell them it’s mutual. She’s something else.
Very strong.”
“I’l tel them you said so.” Coming from a cat, there was no bigger compliment than being told you are strong, whether physical y or mental y. Speed and strength are our most valued assets.
“Daddy?” I paused in front of the bedside table, searching it with my eyes only, because the entire surface was coated in a sticky, sweet-smel ing, brownish film. My best guess was that Eric had spil ed soda and hadn’t bothered to clean it up. The key was not in the sticky scattering of junk.
“Yes?”
I paused, rethinking what I was about to say. But I’d made too much progress toward conquering my fears to back down now. “Can I talk to Marc?”
“He’s not here.”
“Oh.” I swal owed thickly, trying to hide my simultaneous relief and disappointment. The last thing I needed was Daddy reading anything into my request. I’d never hear the end of it.
“You’l see him in an hour.” Daddy let his meaning hang in the air for me to do with as I would. He was learning.
“Oh. Okay.” Marc was with the nearest search party, on his way to Mississippi.
My pulse raced, and I was glad my father couldn’t hear my heartbeat over the phone. At least, I didn’t think he could.
“I need to talk to Ryan now,” he said, gently drawing me out of my thoughts.
“Sure, just a sec.” I grabbed a pair of jeans lying over the back of Eric’s desk chair. Abby’s key was in the right front pocket, and I took the time for another abbreviated victory dance with it clenched in my fist. Then I ran al the way down the hal , through the living room and kitchen, and shoved open the basement door with the phone in one hand and the key in the other.
“Abby, I found it,” I shouted the minute my foot hit the first step. I stopped on the fourth tread, checking my signal to make sure I hadn’t lost the connection with my father. So far, so good. As I knelt to set Eric’s phone on the step, the first notes of “Bad Boys” rang out from my pocket.
Damn. Standing with Eric’s Nokia pressed to my ear once again, I shoved the key into one pocket, then fished Ryan’s phone from the other. The area code was unfamiliar; it couldn’t be my mother. I only knew of one other possibility.
Ryan confirmed it for me. “That’s Miguel’s dedicated ring.”
Twenty-Seven
“Daddy, Miguel’s calling Ryan.” I spoke into one phone with the other held at arm’s length, as if it might explode.
“Tel him if he plays along, I’l let him live,” my father said. “That’s al I’m wil ing to promise at this point.”
Indignant, I huffed air through my nose. “Nice try, but my private life is not part of the deal. I’l give you two and a half years, and Marc can partner me on the hunt. Take it or leave it.” A tingle zinged through me. I’d always wanted to say that to my father.
“You’l stay within sight at all times?”
“Of course. Is that a yes?” I held my breath, waiting for his answer.
“Is that your final offer?”
“Yeah, and you’re damn lucky to get it.”
He chuckled, apparently amused by my attempt to hardbal him. “Done.” He paused, and I heard what sounded like a pen tapping against the top of his desk.
“That’s assuming I can get Umberto and Rick to go along, since this involves their Prides, too. And the Taylors. But I think I can convince them.”
Yes! A successful negotiation with my father was almost as good as another chance to kick Miguel’s ass. Both at once? Better than Christmas. I stood in front of the mirror doing Ethan’s victory dance, pointed fingers and al .
“Faythe?”
I glanced back at Eric’s phone, lying on Miguel’s bed where I’d dropped it when the urge to dance struck. Flushing from embarrassment, I grabbed it and held it back up to my ear. “Yeah. I’m here. Sorry, I dropped the phone.” I knelt on the floor and looked under the bed but found nothing more than a frighteningly thick accumulation of dust.
“I’ll have Michael make the arrangements.” More papers shuffled. “The guys should be there to get you in just over an hour. You’l al be flying out of Jackson Municipal Airport on the first available flight. I’l make the reservations. Do you need anything else from me?”
I hesitated, going over the plan in my head. “Yeah. I need one of Carissa’s brothers to stay behind and help, so everything looks normal. Or maybe one of the enforcers. Can you swing that?”
“I’m sure I can.”
“Great. Thanks, Daddy.” I left Miguel’s room and tried the next door. It was a bathroom, which I passed over in favor of the last remaining room. It had to be Eric’s, and my nose confirmed my guess.
“What about Abby?” I asked, tossing clothes from Eric’s dresser. We couldn’t bring her, even if she wanted to go. She’d been through so much already, and should never have to see Miguel again.
“One of the guys can drop the rest of you at the airport, then drive her back to the ranch. Her parents are pretty anxious to see her.”
I poked through Eric’s desk drawer, pushing aside pencils, stamps, paper clips, and several unlabeled CDs. “You can tell them it’s mutual. She’s something else.
Very strong.”
“I’l tel them you said so.” Coming from a cat, there was no bigger compliment than being told you are strong, whether physical y or mental y. Speed and strength are our most valued assets.
“Daddy?” I paused in front of the bedside table, searching it with my eyes only, because the entire surface was coated in a sticky, sweet-smel ing, brownish film. My best guess was that Eric had spil ed soda and hadn’t bothered to clean it up. The key was not in the sticky scattering of junk.
“Yes?”
I paused, rethinking what I was about to say. But I’d made too much progress toward conquering my fears to back down now. “Can I talk to Marc?”
“He’s not here.”
“Oh.” I swal owed thickly, trying to hide my simultaneous relief and disappointment. The last thing I needed was Daddy reading anything into my request. I’d never hear the end of it.
“You’l see him in an hour.” Daddy let his meaning hang in the air for me to do with as I would. He was learning.
“Oh. Okay.” Marc was with the nearest search party, on his way to Mississippi.
My pulse raced, and I was glad my father couldn’t hear my heartbeat over the phone. At least, I didn’t think he could.
“I need to talk to Ryan now,” he said, gently drawing me out of my thoughts.
“Sure, just a sec.” I grabbed a pair of jeans lying over the back of Eric’s desk chair. Abby’s key was in the right front pocket, and I took the time for another abbreviated victory dance with it clenched in my fist. Then I ran al the way down the hal , through the living room and kitchen, and shoved open the basement door with the phone in one hand and the key in the other.
“Abby, I found it,” I shouted the minute my foot hit the first step. I stopped on the fourth tread, checking my signal to make sure I hadn’t lost the connection with my father. So far, so good. As I knelt to set Eric’s phone on the step, the first notes of “Bad Boys” rang out from my pocket.
Damn. Standing with Eric’s Nokia pressed to my ear once again, I shoved the key into one pocket, then fished Ryan’s phone from the other. The area code was unfamiliar; it couldn’t be my mother. I only knew of one other possibility.
Ryan confirmed it for me. “That’s Miguel’s dedicated ring.”
Twenty-Seven
“Daddy, Miguel’s calling Ryan.” I spoke into one phone with the other held at arm’s length, as if it might explode.
“Tel him if he plays along, I’l let him live,” my father said. “That’s al I’m wil ing to promise at this point.”
