Page 35 of Some Like It Deadly
He’d also had a front row seat to the havoc and destruction caused by one man’s charm and lies. “No, you’re fine right where you are and now you have four minutes and thirty seconds.”
“We didn’t raise you to be rude.” The snapped admonishment was laughable.
“You didn’t raise me at all. Four minutes and ten seconds.” He returned his hands to his pockets, it helped maintain a cool head and the gate was for his father’s protection. If it opened, Richard might very well punch the old man in the face.
And he wasn’t worth that kind of aggravation.
Rubbing a hand against his jaw, Benedict Prentiss took another step toward the gate. Oddly enough, today he appeared lucid and sober—a far cry from the disheveled drunk that had stormed into Richard’s office. “I want to apologize to you.”
“All right.” Because after all these years, what was an apology worth?
“Dammit, Richie, I know I screwed up. I screwed up a lot, but you and Barb—you’re all I have. Your mother won’t speak to me, won’t take my calls, and that new husband of hers? He’s as bad as you are. Won’t let me take a step on the property or pass on my messages.”
Richard had always been fond of Carlisle Jackson. Looking back on it, their benefactor had been interested in his mother from the beginning, but Jennifer Prentiss had loved her first husband and remained ridiculously loyal through not one disaster, but two. Jackson gave his mother a job, helped send her back to school, and he’d settled rather comfortably into the role of friend.
Divorced before Richard went to high school, his mother hadn’t dated and Richard still recalled his graduation day. Carlisle had taken him aside and asked him, man-to-man, would Richard object if Carlisle took his mother on a date. He’d been patient for years, and he’d been a damn good stand-in for the idiot in front of Richard now.
“Benedict…” Because he didn’t deserve to be called Father, much less Dad. “You are not allowed to be within one hundred feet of her. That’s what the restraining order is for. If you came here to complain, I’m done.”
“No, that’s not why I’m here.” He reached out to grip the iron bars between them and Richard studied his sallow, faintly yellow complexion.
“You’re sick.”Son of a bitch.“You didn’t come here to make apologies or amends. You’ve been trying to get ahold of me and Barbara because you’re sick.”
The older man’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, I’m sick, but I do want to tell you I’m sorry. I’m sorry I screwed up our lives and I’m sorry for what I did to you kids. You shouldn’t have had to… You shouldn’t have had to grow up with a father like me.”
“Well, we didn’t. You made sure of that.” Richard shook his head. “But you don’t get it. You’re sorrynow.Because you’re sick, because you’re dying and alone. That was your choice, you made that bed. Now you can lie in it.”
He pivoted to walk away, then paused before storming back to the gate and pinning his father with a glare. “Are you sorry for all the other lives you ruined? For the money you took and never gave back? Are you sorry for all the nights Mom cried herself to sleep because Barb wanted her daddy? Are you sorry that the FBI tore our lives apart to find out where you hid the money you stole? Or because thirty years later they still keep an eye on me in case I have some of your money? Are you sorry for that?” Richard wanted to throttle him.
Benedict couldn’t hold Richard’s gaze and looked down. “You made a good life for yourself, Richie. I’m proud of you. I won’t come back, if that’s what you want.”
Refusing to be sucked into the pity party the old man was throwing, Richard nodded. “That’s exactly what I want.” Transferring his attention to the security men, he had to appreciate their lack of expression as they watched the argument. “He’s leaving now. Don’t ever admit him and you don’t have to call up and let me know he’s here.” The last was for his father’s benefit.
Turning his back on Benedict, Richard strode up the driveway and inside before he could change his mind. If for one instant he thought his father really had achieved an epiphany and was willing to turn his life around.
Slamming the door behind him, he paused to lean his head and fist against it. Nothing his father ever said would be worth listening to. He wanted to pound something until his knuckles were raw and bloody. Any other time, he’d have picked up the phone and called Armand—they could hit the racquetball court.But Kate…
Lifting his head, he glanced toward the pool.Kate’s here.
The roiling black cloud of anger dissipated and he scooped up his papers and walked to look at the clear blue water. She was awake and on the phone. Sliding the glass door open, he leaned out and her sleepy smile soothed the bruised ache in his heart.
“No, sir. Like I said, I didn’t see the plate. I think the most remarkable thing about the sedan was that it wasn’t remarkable.”
Frowning, he stepped out and shut the door behind him before walking over to join her. Ducking under the umbrella, he sat on the lounger next to her.
“I understand that.” She gave him another smile, then sighed as she listened to whomever was on the phone. “Yes, if I can think of anything else, I will call. Yes—no. I don’t know if we’re going into the office on Monday. I would presume so.” She shot him a questioning look and he nodded.
Who the hell was asking her about their?—
Peterson.
Richard held his hand out and her brows went up. “Let me talk to him,” he said, loud enough for the man on the other end to hear.
She handed over the phone, but he read her reluctance. “Peterson?”
“Yes, Mr. Prentiss. I apologize, I wanted to go over the details one more time with Miss Braddock after she’d had a chance to rest.”
“Well if you need to talk to her again, you can call me. Otherwise, she’s taking the rest of the weekend off. Have a good day.” He hung up without waiting for the man to respond.
