Page 12 of Heir

Perhaps Mom and Uncle Frank could work out a deal that wouldn’t make Mom completely destitute without me being involved.

We walked out into the cool night air, and Mom was happy.

I didn’t say anything as we climbed into my car, and I quickly drove us out of there, the paper Henry gave me burning from its place beneath my thigh on the seat.

Mom and Kenton whispered on the way back to the house. When I finally pulled up. I kept the car idling and looked back at them.

“We’re here.”

“Aren’t you going to come in? You can sleep here tonight,” she said.

I worked hard to keep the grimace off my face. “Ah, no. I have work tomorrow. It’s best if I go home.”

She narrowed her eyes at me but thankfully didn’t say anything to that.

I watched her and Kenton hop out of the car and make their way to the front door. It wasn’t until they were inside and turned on the lights in the house that I finally read Henry’s note.

What the hell?

I couldn’t make sense of the note. What was he talking about?

Check your mom’s computer,it read.

Why would I need to check my mom’s computer, and for what?

3

KAI

My eyes sprangopen to the cool morning air.

The sun was barely peeking out from above the clouds.

Dawn was breaking, and I resisted the urge to groan. I felt like I’d barely slept.

A shift to my left told me that was the case.

I sat up on the bed and looked at the naked woman who’d been handcuffed to my bed throughout the night. She moaned in her sleep, and I climbed off the bed, trying to stop the irritation from making its way through me at the sight of her in my space.

I usually didn’t bring women back to my place to fuck.

Not if I could help it.

It was usually at their place, and I had my fucking pants on before they could come back down from their own orgasm, but shit had been bad for a while.

It had been bad since I was fucking fifteen, but it got worse last year with things that went on at the club.

I could still remember the fucking pain, the emptiness at hearing the fucking woman’s voice on TV saying the words I had fucking dreaded since I’d learned what it was my dad actually did.

Dominic Madden is dead.

I looked into the bathroom mirror at my blue eyes. Blue eyes that were identical to my old man’s, and the dream that woke me up came to my mind in clear focus. It was always the same dream. First in the alleyway with Jude, but recently, that dream had changed, and instead of Jude’s body on the cold concrete ground next to me as I fought for breath, it was my dad’s, his blue eyes lifeless and open, staring at the sky.

I closed my eyes.

Fuck, but I was tired.

When I opened them again, I saw my dad’s face in the mirror. It was almost uncanny how much I looked like Dad. A younger version of him, people said.

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