Page 86 of Bed of Thorns

I closed my eyes, placing my hand on the warm glass. Could I fix what was likely irrevocably broken?

The sound of my door opening forced me to bristle. Right now, I couldn’t stand the thought of speaking to anyone, pretending as if I was a team player. Another laugh shifted up from my throat.

“Edmond. You’re needed in the conference room.”

My assistant was efficient, helpful, and obviously had no clue about the Prism Group—as was the case for everyone else in the office. It was perhaps the best kept secret in the entire state of Virginia.

And I couldn’t care less.

I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs that the group was crooked, but what limited information I’d been provided had been carefully guarded, merely drawing me into the possibilities of how I might find a way to mold the future for so many industries. I was still on probation, my loyalties being tested. Over the past two business trips, it had become painfully obvious that I wasn’t in the same league as the others. That fortified my belief that I’d been provided an invitation solely on the desire to find out what I knew. Once they had what they needed, I’d be quickly eliminated.

Carl had been particularly good at leading me down certain paths, asking for memories while disguising it as something else.

At first, I’d bought it, pulled into the vacuum of success, hungering for more.

But the nagging had never stopped.

Why would my father change his ways?

What could have been such an intense draw that he’d allowed himself to become a monster?

And why had he asked me to work with him? He’d known the kind of kid I’d been, always curious, refusing to let anything go. Had he wanted to confide in me then realized I would never comprehend or accept why he’d made the decision he had?

While I was only guessing, I’d say the lure had been his good buddy, the senator. Sadly, I’d paid little attention to his change in behavior until it was too late. But I did remember the barbeques, the various parties he and my mother had gone to when I was younger. My parents had been happy then, even if my mother had started to become sick.

As soon as she was diagnosed with cancer, it was like a light switch had gone off.

Had my father simply been trying to provide necessary care? I’d heard them discussing how terrible their finances had been. I’d been surprised when his business had started doing well, even more so when his client list had changed.

Jesus Christ. The deals he’d profited from hadn’t only been from powerful mafia men. A sudden realization hit me. One of the names I’d seen in my father’s information. Capalla. I would bet it was one and the same as the ‘boy’ who’d stalked Mercedes. A tangled web had been placed around both of us. All those people my father had worked with had been from the various Prism Group leaders. I’d bet money on it. My father had been double dipping. If only I could prove it.

Even if I did, what difference did it make now?

Damn it. Why couldn’t I remember that night? Why were the details so fuzzy?

“I’ll be right there, Angie.”

“I’ll let him know.”

Him.

That meant Carl.

Something was off. I’d felt it the minute I’d returned from a meeting with one of my regular accounts. The man had stared at me as I’d walked down the hall, immediately retreating to his office and closing the door.

At least the box was safe, and I’d use it if necessary. Unfortunately, I wasn’t certain it was enough to bury the group. My father still had the missing pieces. I was certain of it. That’s what this entire scheme was about. Putting the pieces together then burying the both of us.

I fisted my hand, trying to keep my rage in check. It was necessary to take the upper hand. Was that possible?

What I needed to do was explain everything to Mercedes. Then we’d open the box together. Even half the pieces might provide some answers.

The sound of my phone sent a wave of anger and worry inside. I had a work phone, which I never brought into the house. This was my personal cell phone, the same one I’d purchased at a run-down convenience store on our trip from Maine.

And only one person knew the number.

“Mercedes. Are you alright?”

“You need to come home, Edmond.”

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