Page 22 of Redemption

“For somebody who is supposed to be keeping out of trouble, those are big sharks circling you.” My father slides his tumbler on the island’s surface and makes eye contact with me. “I might not like Finn Donaghey, but if he was out of prison, he’d never stand for these threats against you. Theyarethreats.” He half turns and stares at my mother on the couch. “Volkov’s girlfriend sought out Opal to name-drop. The company I was dealing with brought up you and the PLA without any plausible reason to discuss you or Finn.”

“We already had our concerns about the bomb,” Jay admits.

“Your mother and I think it’s time I step in and help you handle things here.”

My gaze flies to his. “No.” When he goes to speak again, I hold up my hand. “In the past, you haven’t made situations like this better for me. You’ve worsened them. So, no, you’re not welcome. I appreciate your concern, but I’m not having you insert yourself.” With Finn arriving tomorrow, having my father here is a recipe for disaster. The last person I’ll be telling about the jailbreak is the man in front of me.

“You said things haven’t been going that well,” my mother tries to reason from the couch. “It seems like the source of your problems could be any of these.”

“I love you, Mom. But the last time you came to me with a ‘threat,’ it turned out to be nothing. Finn and Jay wasted resources trying to track a lead that never needed to be pursued.”

She flushes and stares into her wineglass. “I’m not going to apologize for worrying about you.”

Her selective worry is the problem, not that it exists. “Jay and I are on top of this. I can assure you we’re taking the threat seriously.”

My mother tips up the rest of her wine and comes to the island to slide the glass on top. “I’m not pretending I can help with any of this or that I even understand it. But promise me you’ll call your dad if you get into trouble.”

If I’m calling my father, I’ve hit the bottom of the barrel. I’m not making that promise. “We’re handling the complications. You don’t need to worry.”

Jay shows them out the door and back to their waiting car. When he returns to the house, we stare at each other for a long moment. “I don’t know about you,” he says. “But I can’t wait for Finn to get his ass here.”

“I hope Hagen doesn’t get antsy and screw up our plan for tomorrow. If he’s sending messages through my mother, he’s trying to back Finn into a corner about something.”

“Agreed.”

“Do you think he had a hand in the bomb?” Most of the warehouse stock had never been found. Pieces of it, or all of it, could have ended up anywhere.

Jay takes a deep breath. “It’s possible. There’s so much unknown right now.”

The baby monitor lights up in front of me, and I pick it up, watching Lucas roll around in his crib. My heart swells when I realize our lives are going to change again. “Finn will be here tomorrow. I can hardly believe it. Part of me is jumping for joy and the other part of me is being eaten alive by fear.”

“There’s no one better than Evander. We have to trust the process. Keep ourselves busy until Finn arrives.”

“You’re not worried?”

“Worry won’t change the outcome. So, keep the focus on things we can manage or influence.”

He gave me the same speech earlier today, which is why we spent most of the day poring over old warehouse files. Today has been long; I can’t even imagine how tomorrow will feel.

When Lucas cries, I put down the monitor and head for the bedroom. He gives me a big, toothy grin when he catches me entering the room. I lift him into my arms, and he snuggles into the curve of my neck. As I rub his back, my mind drifts to Finn, to how happy we were as a family for a brief window in Switzerland.

“Your daddy is coming home, Lucas. I can’t wait to be a family again.”

Chapter Eleven

Finn

Somethingisdifferent.Theguards have been shifting and changing the last few days, but the ones interacting with me today are on edge, anxious. Yesterday, they made me move cells. Is today the day? Evander Williams, the FBI, or whoever is running this escape must have people in their pocket. Not knowing who or where has me on high alert.

“Donaghey,” the guard calls from outside my room. “I’m to take you to the infirmary for a checkup.”

I’m not sick, but I’m not questioning anything when there are so many moving pieces. On my way out, I toss the book I got from the library onto the bed. It’s been a while since anticipation has zipped through me like a drug.

Along the corridor, I walk in front of the guard. His walkie goes off with various things happening around the prison. The urge to ask why I’m going to the infirmary or who ordered my checkup runs strong. If I make it to the medical clinic, I’ll be surprised. Tension hangs in the air.

When we get to the right entrance, I hesitate. Maybe wearegoing there?

“Hold up,” the guard says at the door. He tugs the walkie out of its holder at his hip. “Donaghey says he’s running a fever. I’ve taken him to the infirmary.”

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