Page 3 of Blindsided
“Kane,” Wren said, her voice gentle but firm, “if you know something about Declan’s father, now would be a good time to share it.”
He looked at her, then back at me, calculating in his bloodshot eyes. “What’s it worth to you?”
Before I could respond, Rory grabbed him by the collar. “How about your continued ability to breathe without a tube? Is that valuable enough?”
“Easy,” I murmured, though part of me wanted to let Rory continue. “Let’s hear him out.”
Kane straightened his jacket when Rory and Wren released him. “Three weeks before your father died, I saw him meeting with someone at the docks. Someone who wasn’t family.”
“How?” Kat scoffed. “Wherever he went, Connor went.”
“I never saw Connor,” Kane claimed. “But what I did see was this guy was… different,” Kane insisted. “Foreign. They argued. Your father looked scared—I’d never seen him scared before.” He swallowed hard. “The next day, I overheard my father talking on the phone to someone. Declan, it sounded like your dad saying, ‘they’ve found me’.”
A chill crept over us, thicker than the night air. My eyes darted to Kat and Rory, finding the same shock, fear, and dread reflected in their faces.
“And you never thought to mention this?” I asked, my voice was dangerously quiet.
Kane shrugged. “By the time I figured it might be important, he was already gone. Besides, who’d believe me? I’m just the drunk of the family.”
“Brace yourself, because you’re about to experience detox the hard way,” I said, enjoying the look of terror on Kane’s face.
“Wha... what does that mean?”
“We’re going grave digging.”
Chapter 1
Kori Blake
I stand at the kitchen island, slicing strawberries for breakfast with meticulous precision—the marble countertop gleams under the recessed lighting. I glance at the clock—6:45 AM. Mark will be down any minute, and everything needs to be perfect.
On cue, I hear his footsteps on the grand staircase. I straighten my posture and quickly check my reflection in the polished refrigerator door. Hair smooth, makeup flawless, silk robe tied just so.
“Is my coffee ready?” Mark’s voice cuts through the kitchen before he even appears.
“Fresh and waiting,” I reply, gesturing to the steaming mug next to The Wall Street Journal.
He strides in, already dressed in a tailored Brioni suit that costs more than most people’s monthly mortgage. He doesn’t acknowledge me, just picks up the mug and grimaces.
“This is lukewarm. Again.” He slams the mugdown, splashing coffee onto the pristine counter. “Is it really that difficult to perform one simple task correctly?”
My stomach tightens. “I’m sorry. I just made it five minutes ago. I can—”
“Don’t bother,” he interrupts, checking his reflection in the window and adjusting his perfect tie. “Henderson closed the Tokyo deal last night while you were wasting money at that charity function.”
“Your charity function,” I correct quietly. “For your company’s foundation.”
His eyes narrow. “Which you represented poorly. The Prescotts said you knew nothing about our Q3 projections. It’s embarrassing, Kori.”
“You told me not to discuss business—”
“I told you not to discuss business incorrectly.” He scrolls through his phone, not looking at me. “By the way, your little shopping spree yesterday? Fifteen thousand dollars at Neiman Marcus? Completely unnecessary. You have closets full of clothes you never wear.”
My cheeks burn. That spree was for the children’s hospital auction items he’d insisted I procure. I’d spent hours selecting each piece to reflect the Blake brand perfectly.
“I need you to cancel your lunch with Jennifer today,” he continues. “The Richardsons are in townunexpectedly, and I need you to entertain Elise.”
“But Jennifer’s birthday—”
