Page 64 of Twice as Forbidden

“No. It’s cool, Dad. I’m out.”

“Noah, wait,” I say to his back. He doesn’t stop. My office door slams shut, and I close my eyes, bowing my head. “Fuck.”

Taking in a deep breath, I pick up the receiver and dial another number. “Stone.”

“Craig, I need a favor.”

He gets right to the point. “Shoot. Business or personal?”

“Both, actually. I need you to run a check on the Hallstead family. Burt, his wife Veronica, and their son Vince. Dig deep. I want financials, whereabouts, what they ate for fucking dinner.” I provide the new detailed information that Wayne provided with the warehouse system glitches and any potential connections that may be related to Hallstead.

“Got it. Anything else?”

“Yeah. I need you to look into someone else for me. Georgia Price. Find out anything you can on her. Also, has she been in contact with Vince Hallstead at all prior to a month ago? I need this five minutes ago.”

“I’m on it.”

We disconnect the call. If she’s been playing me this whole time, she’s going to wish she never stepped foot inside my bedroom. I will fucking destroy her.

Chapter twenty-four

Georgia

Ican’tstoppacing.Mychest is so tight each breath is difficult to take. My eyes dart to my phone screen for what feels like the millionth time. Still nothing. Jackson hasn’t responded to any of my messages. Panic rises within me, and I quickly send another one.

Me: Please answer me. We need to talk about this. I know I should have come straight to you, but I panicked. Please call me back.

I wait. Nothing. Not even three little dots. He’s completely cutting me off. I clutch my stomach, but it’s the ache in my heart that’s truly unbearable. How could I have been so dumb? I should’ve gone straight to Jackson. But I didn’t, and now I’m in a heap of shit I can’t get out of. My phone dings and I almost drop it as I scramble to pull up the message.

Noah: Georgie, Georgie, Georgie. Why you fuck me up, Georgie?

Bile rises in my throat. Did Vince tell him? Does he know I didn’t get the ledger? I choke on a breath, forcing myself to reply.

Me: What are you talking about?

Noah:

I zoom in on a row of shots.

Me: Noah, where are you? Why aren’t you at work?

I’m going to be sick. He knows. I’ve ruined everything.

Noah: Fuck work. And fuck my dad. I’m done with him.

Me: Come home. We can talk about it.

I watch the three little dots appear and then disappear. No reply.Fuck.“Fuck!” I toss my phone. It hits the table and falls, landing on the floor with a sickening crack. “Great. Just what I need,” I mutter.

What do I do now? I reach for my phone, trying to text Jackson again through the shattered screen. “Come on.” I squint, attempting to make out the letters, when the front door chimes. I rush downstairs as Noah stumbles inside.

“Noah.”

He throws his keys toward the table but misses, knocking a crystal vase to the floor. It shatters into a million pieces. “Shit,” he mumbles, rubbing his forehead.

“Are you drunk?”

“I’d say so,” he says, and a gust of laughter seeps from his chest. “Though, not as drunk as I’d like to be since I can still think.”

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