“Respect is earned.” A text from Malcolm blinks on the screen and I hit ignore. “Now, what do you want? Calling isn’t something you do and when it occurs, it’s because you need something from me.”
“Why were you in Colombia with Javier Lucas?”
My blood runs cold at that. How the hell…
“Are you having me watched?” His lack of a response gives me the answer I need, and while inside I’m fuming—wanting to strangle the man—my expression remains unemotional. Cold. “I guess this is a trait passed down from generation to generation.”
“Are you fucking that—”
“Where is my mother?” Dad doesn’t like that I interrupted nor my line of questioning, but I couldn’t care less and match his icy glare. “What did you do to her?”
“She isn’t of your concern.”
“And my life isn’t of yours.”
“Mariah,” he spits out, but his attention isn’t on me but someone on the other side of the phone. It’s a woman’s voice, speaking low, but I catch part of their reflection in the windowpane behind my father. She’s familiar. Someone I’ll be paying a visit to soon.
“Get to the point.” Walking to the fridge, I pull it open and take out a can of pop. “Some of us would like to eat dinner in peace.”
His eyes snap back to mine and the woman turns her face, but I do catch a better look. Mildred, you stupid bitch. “I’m not above hurting my daughter and you’re pushing me, sweetheart. Back down and do as you’re told if you want to see your mother again.”
Popping the top, I take a large sip. Noisily, which I know annoys him. “What is this going to cost me?”
“Malcolm is currently holding control of the Frederick’s laboratory in Utah. Get me the—”
“No.”
“The fuck did you just say?”
“I said no.” Then I take another sip and smile. “Mom isn’t dead, and I will find her.”
“The hospital will never release her without my signature.”
“Maybe, but you just signed your death warrant.” Disconnecting the call, I quickly press the number for Malcolm and wait. It rings twice before there’s an audible click.
“Did he call you?”
“He did. Much sooner than I expected.”
“Was anyone with him?” His ire matches my own. A familial betrayal cuts deep and the punishment is served without mercy, something I am okay with.
“Mildred.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow.” We hang up and I go on with my evening. Within the last week, we’ve watched videos, gone through endless files, and started the search for my mother. Mildred Frederick and my father have been corroborating for the last few years on unapproved medical testing for a few viral strands that have been slowly growing overseas but haven’t hit the States, and yet, their end goal is a worldwide bidding war.
That’s their goal, but I have mine.
I want their blood on my hands.
“Thank you for your time.” For the sixth time today, I hang up the phone and close my eyes. It’s taken me a few days to narrow down my mother’s location after Dad’s video call, and she isn’t in a mental institution. She isn’t in Europe either.
Looking down my list, I cross off another women’s shelter in Indiana and sigh.
For some reason, she’s back in her home state and hiding. Using cash and prepaid cards, but facial recognition has come a long way and Erik found a video clip of her at the aquarium with a group of kids no older than eight.
My mother wasn’t dressed as the society queen she once was. In a pair of dark-wash jeans and cream-colored blouse, she walked with the group from exhibit to exhibit while answering what she could—helping this one little girl in particular that seemed too small to play with the others.
“Why hasn’t he called me?” I ask aloud, rubbing my temples when footsteps approach. They’re heels, the clacking loud within the open space, and I look up in time to watch Mildred try and sneak past my desk. “Take another step and adhere to the consequences.”
Mildred’s head snaps in my direction, face pinched tight in anger. “What did you say?”
“Are you deaf?” Shuffling the list of numbers in Indiana under a financial report, I raise a brow. “Well?”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she turns to fully face me. “No. I’m not.”
“Then you know I both find both irritating and disgusting,” I sneer, catching Malcolm’s imposing figure standing just within the entrance to his office. “Leave.”
“You have balls for a secretary.”
“And we both know you spread those legs for anyone, my father being one of them.” Standing from my seat, I open the drawer to my right and pull out a gun with two bullets. “Married men. Engaged men. Do you sleep with family members too?”
Her face goes from furious to near ghostly white. Fake tears gather at the corner of her eyes. “How could you say something like that to me? I’m a respected member of—”
“Please cut the bull, Mildred. We both know what cloth you are cut from.” Picking up my Glock, I pull the clip out and insert the two bullets before resetting with the safety off. “Why are you here? And don’t give me some line about an appointment because you don’t have one. You have two minutes to explain.”
She fidgets, eyeing the weapon in my hand. “Malcolm called me to go over our merger. We’ve come to an understanding.”
“Lie. Try again.”
“It’s the truth, Mariah. Call him and ask.”
“Again, that’s a lie. One more chance.” I raise my hand and point toward her chest.
Mildred shakes, but her eyes are full of hate. Her animosity is palpable and so is her greed. “I came to talk to Malcolm about my brother and company. We need to come to an amicable agreement.”
“Is that so?” My cousin steps forward now, a smile on his face and Mildred calms immediately.
“Yes.” Her response is low and meek, and he’s the epitome of gracious when holding a hand out. “I’m very sorry for showing up without a prior appointment, but please, I need—”
“No worries, Ms. Frederick.” His eyes snap to mine and harden a bit for her benefit. “Put the gun away and show some respect, Mariah. She is a customer and must be treated as such. Understood?”
“Of course, Mr. Asher.”
She’s smiling at his reprimand. She enjoys me being put in my place.
Stupid fucking woman.
Mildred is pushing her luck with me, and if she catches me on the wrong day, I’ll be the one putting a bullet between her eyes.
24
“HAVE YOU HAD any news on his whereabouts?” I ask Malcolm, holding the phone between my ear and shoulder while Alejandro and Emiliano hold a meeting inside the family compound. We’ve been here for the past two weeks, smoking out those responsible for my mother’s death, while they try and hide.
I know where the three men are:
The shooter. The enabler. The general of Colombia’s army.
They’ve been lying low and I haven’t. The country—the president—wants me for my crimes but don’t have a shred of possibility without cause and evidence. You can’t be proven guilty of words alone, and the citizens demand proof of the murders committed.