Page 160 of Beautiful Liar

“I’m never going to tell you where she is. Never!”

He nods. “I know. But I’ll find her. I’m a patient man. I’ll find her and bring her home.” He leans forward, elbows on knees. “I just want us to be a family, Lucky. Is that so bad?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? I may be in shock but I’m not insane.”

His head tilts. “You sure about that? From the circus blowing all over the news, I say you inherited some of your mother’s mental instability.”

“She got that way because of what you did to her!”

“What? Treat her like a queen? Give her the best that money can buy only to find out she’s screwing that dimwit behind my back?”

Earl grumbles. Clayton ignores him.

“You really are delusional, aren’t you?”

He regards me steadily for a minute. “Ridge didn’t deserve what you did to him.”

Now the fear invades. So does the rage. “He tried to rape me, with your blessing.”

“Now, let’s not sling unfair accusations around. You went down there of your own free will. Like your mother, you thought you could pull the wool over my eyes when I was two steps ahead of you the whole time.”

“If you were you would’ve foreseen what happened to your lapdog.”

Fury shrouds his face. “Watch your tone. That man was a veteran, a defender of his country. He didn’t deserve to be barbecued by a second rate whore.”

My eyes widen. “My God, you loved him, didn’t you? What, he was the son you never had, while the daughter under your nose deserved to be passed around like a Sunday afternoon buffet?”

“I kept you fed and clothed—”

“While keeping me under guard twenty-four hours a day and whoring me off seven days a week. Yeah, I felt really loved.”

“This isn’t a father-daughter bonding session, Lucky.” He reaches into his suede jacket and pulls out a folded document. “This is a warrant for your arrest, signed by my good friend, Judge Tolley, you remember him? You gave him a birthday treat to remember last year. All I need is to act on this, and you’ll be back in Getty Falls standing trial for murder.”

Despite the quaking inside, I lift my chin. “Are you sure? I’m pretty certain the authorities will have something to say about a Sheriff three thousand miles from his sand pit randomly slapping handcuffs on a citizen.”

“You assume anyone knows I’m here. I have a private jet on standby. I could have you back home and in jail by nightfall. And while you’re awaiting your trial, I’ll continue my search for Petra.”

Her name on his lips liquefies my insides. “There are billions of girls in the world, Clay. Thousands who will buy the Kool Aid you’re selling, unfortunately. Why her? Why can’t you just leave her be?”

He staggers to his feet, his face livid. “Because she is mine!”

He’s not going to stop looking for her. Never. “I have money. I’ll give it all to you if you promise to give up searching for her. That’s what you want her for, isn’t it? To be your next star attraction? Tell me what she’s worth, I’ll pay it.”

“How? You think that rich asshole you were cavorting with will bail you out? Even if I wanted to take him up on his offer to make all this worth my while, I say it’s too late, seeing as he has enough problems of his own right now.”

The vise around my heart tightens. “What are you talking about?”

He snaps his fingers. “Right. You’ve been in the dark, literally for the last two days, haven’t you? Earl, bring the laptop. Show Lucky here all the excitement she’s missed. If you ask me, you’re the star attraction everyone’s interested in now.” He waves the document at me. “Maybe I should revisit my decision. You’re an Internet sensation now. Your premium has gone up—”

“What the hell are you talking about?”I demand louder.

Earl steps back into the light, a laptop clutched in his hand. He snags a chair and sets it down with the laptop a few feet from me. With a nasty smirk, he hits the button, stands back and folds his arms.

At first I’m not sure what I’m seeing. The camera is shaking badly, the person holding it hiding behind a curtain or drape. The shot gets better when a woman walks into view, accompanied by a man. The footage is years old, but I recognize a younger Maxwell Blackwood immediately.

He walks the woman into a bedroom suite. On the bed, two half-dressed men wait. The expressions on their faces are ones I’m unwillingly familiar with. Maxwell murmurs in her ear, then turns to leave. She tries to grab him, her sobs escalating. He pushes her back toward the bed. When she protests, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a set of handcuffs and secures her to the bedpost.

“You can’t go back on your promises, Adele. I’m disappointed in you.” He leaves her there, walks out. The men rise from the bed, and move toward her.

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