Page 121 of House of Payne
It remains as I read about the Everetts and their trucking company, and their suspected ties to drug distribution, guns, and exotic animals.
You need to stop reading. Stop it. Right now.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t make myself look away.
I taste vomit as I read through the paragraphs about the Fitzpatricks, how they work with Fortune 500 companies, and how they control several of the largest and most important marinas, wharves, and the largest dock in Boston. The ringing in my ears turns into a pounding as I skim through the information and linger on the Thayers.
My chest is so tight that I’m sure I’ll never be able to breathe again.
Or sleep without reliving every piece of information I’ve uncovered.
Where have I heard that name before?
I exit the forum and type in their name into the Google search bar. A heartbeat later, I lean back against the chair and remind myself that I can’t run out the door. As much as I want to race back to my father’s house and throw myself at his mercy, I know I can’t.
I’m too far gone.
And knowing that the Thayers, a major fashion family I recognize from several red carpet events, is in on it too only makes me feel worse.
What am I supposed to do with this information?
What were you hoping to do? Were you hoping that shedding light on the business would make you feel better? Or were you hoping to find something that would make you feel like being drawn to Mason isn’t a terrible thing?
I want the truth to erase whatever feeling has taken root inside.
I want it to haunt me so I stay out of Mason’s bed and far, far away from him.
Slowly, and with unsteady fingers, I lean back in the chair and let my eyes skim over specific paragraphs, the knots in my stomach only growing tighter. It makes me sick to realize how deep their hooks run, and how far back the operation goes.
The five families mentioned are as much a part of the history of our country as its founding, deeply interwoven into the very fabric of our nation.
I wonder how much of this country was built on their backs.
You’ve learned enough for one day. Close the damn browser and get back to work.
Unless I’m willing to walk right out the front door, consequences be damned, there’s nothing I can do with this information.
I can’t go to the cops because everything I’ve read suggests the five most powerful families in Boston have connections everywhere.
One wrong move, and paying off my father’s debt will be the least of my worries.
You can’t make an enemy out of them, London. Don’t be stupid.
Being curious about Mason and the snippets of the man I see behind the mask is one thing.
Drawing attention to myself and painting a target on my back is another.
Get up and close the browser. Do it now, unless you want the target to extend to your father and Noah, too.
Carefully, and on shaky legs, I force myself to my feet and take several deep breaths. That’s when Miss Deveroux finds me, and the look on her face makes me sick all over again. She places a gentle hand on the small of my back and leads me to the couch in the corner.
Wordlessly, she hands me a bottle of water, and I take a drink.
My throat still feels very, very dry.
Miss Deveroux says something, but I don’t hear her.
Eventually, when I feel steady enough, I leave her office and throw myself into work. Hours later, I’m still turning the information over in my head when I feel Mason’s eyes on me. I spot him across the room, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, his expression giving nothing away.
