Wild at Heart (16 page)

The whole thing made me sick.

“Oh, my poor daughter!” he said as he walked toward me, his arms outstretched in the perfect imitation of a loving father. What a crock of shit. “I am so glad to have you home where you belong.”

I’d been thanking my lucky stars all the way over here that Archer had mentioned this party. After all, I couldn’t exactly show up here during the day and riffle through my father’s desk with my mother and the house staff lurking about.

This was the perfect opportunity. Or so it had seemed until my father spotted me and decided to make this a photo op for his campaign.

When he got close enough to me, he saw the look in my eye and knew I was not about to play along. So he ushered me into his office, making excuses to anyone who would listen.

“She’s just not ready to talk about it yet,” “Such a traumatic experience,” and “The poor thing is feeling overwhelmed by it all.”

God, the man was the master at deception. He was the Houdini of the political world.

Once he’d closed the door, he dropped the sappy act, crossed over to his desk and pulled a cigar out of the drawer. As he clipped off the end, he said, “To what do I owe the pleasure? I assume you didn’t come here for the cocktails or the witty conversation.”

“There’s nothing witty about swindling people out of their money.”

“I am not swindling people, Reagan.” He laughed out loud. “They’re practically begging me to take it.”

“They scratch your back, you’ll scratch theirs.”

“That’s how the world works.”

“And what do you get for releasing a criminal from prison?” I said. “How is Daren Wilde scratching your back?”

He smiled, flashing perfectly white teeth. “You came back, didn’t you?”

I gaped at him for a moment. “Was it your plan to also get me killed? Because he tried to blow me up yesterday, unless you missed that.” My voice got tight as I added, “But he got Arianna instead. Was THAT a part of your deal, too?”

My father slammed his hand down on the desk, the sound reverberating around the room. “And that never would have happened if you’d come home and left that filthy artist alone. If you had done what you were
supposed
to do.” My father’s eyes hardened and his lips thinned. “I don’t understand why you can’t just be a team player, Reagan. I’ve given you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“No,” I said, feeling the heavy burden of his disappointment mix with my own exhaustion. More than anything, I wished things weren’t like this between us. “You gave me everything
you
wanted. And you took a lot away.”

“How dare you, after all I’ve done for you?” His face reddened, and he unbuttoned his suit coat, flinging it open. “You know, I didn’t want it to come to this, but you have secrets which, if they came out, would ruin your reputation. I would hate to have to take that tactic with my own flesh and blood, but you are pushing every one of my buttons, Reagan.”

My mouth dropped open and I felt the blood drain from my face. The fact that he would try to throw that in my face was almost too much. Almost. Except it was a classic McKinley move.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Go for it. After what happened last night, I couldn’t care less. Besides, that secret will end up hurting you more than it will me because I’ll tell them the whole story.”

He slowly shook his head, for a brief instant looking almost sad. “You don’t even
know
the whole story.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he said, the word clipped, curt. “Mark my words though, Reagan. You do not want the truth coming out any more than I do.” He turned and looked at me. “But I will do it if I have to. And I have a whole team of PR people to spin the story the exact way I want. You, my dear, do not. Remember that.” He stood up and took a puff of his cigar. “So do make sure that you are smiling when you rejoin the party.”

There was a quick knock on the door. It opened and Archer stuck his head in.

Oh, sweet heavens, thank god.

“Mayor?” he said, an eyebrow lifted as he quirked his thumb toward the party. “They’re asking for you out here.”

“Thank you, Archer. Reagan and I are finished here, anyway.” Without another word or even a glance my way, my father swung around his desk, crossed the room and disappeared through the door.

Archer tilted his head toward the way my dad had gone and winked. I mouthed a
Thank you
to him and he grinned before shutting the door.

I was finally alone in my father’s office—alone with the weight of his disappointment and the guilt of Arianna’s death hanging about me. The room was thick with secrets, of a world where large sums crossed this desk regularly.

With Archer’s promise to keep him busy until he received my text, and given how very pissed he’d been when he left, I was willing to bet all of my father’s money that he wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon.

I didn’t have many friends, but I certainly had the right ones.

I looked around the office and sighed. This was a long shot and somewhat crazy move, but I had to try. He had to have a file SOMEWHERE dedicated to every bit of dirt he’d dug up, and this was my only chance at getting it.

Maybe this time, in this particular instance, it would turn out advantageous to be a McKinley.

I slipped around his desk and started opening drawers. They were full of files, but I didn’t see Dare’s name anywhere. Or mine.

I tried to open the last large drawer, scraping my stitches across the arm of the chair, and cursed out loud. Dammit, it was locked. The file was probably in there. Even though I knew it was futile, I opened the middle drawer and searched quickly, but found no keys. Of course not. That would have been too easy.

I slammed the drawer shut, sat back in his chair, blew the hair out of my face as I stared at his black computer screen.

His computer.

Jesus. Of course. God, I was such an amateur.

Turning it on, I glanced at the door, praying that Archer would be as good as his word. My father’s desktop came up and I did a quick search for files containing Dare’s name.

Eight came up. Great. But I couldn’t read through them right now. I’d need to—

Shit. A memory stick.

I opened the top drawer, but there were none in sight.

Oh, my god. Why didn’t think to bring a memory stick? Arianna would think this was so—

No. I couldn’t think about Ari right now. I swallowed hard. I had to stay focused.

Okay. I would email them to myself. But the browser wouldn’t connect, and when I glanced down at the little internet icon, I could see why. Of course. Why would I expect there to be an internet connection when I really needed it?

Across the room was my father’s printer. Plan C. That would have to do. I hit print on each file, looking back and forth between the door, the printer, and the computer screen.

I did a quick search for Dare’s father’s name as well and landed a couple of files. I hit print on those, too. I was about to search my name, when the door handle started to turn. The printer was still going—I couldn’t help that—but I quickly closed all the files as the door opened.

And my blood froze.

The printer went blessedly silent, with a stack of sheets waiting for me to pick up on the other side of the room, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the person leering at me from the doorway.

“Reagan,” Jackson said, stepped into the room…and closed the door behind him.

My heart flew out of my chest when I heard it click shut.

No. I did not have time for this.

I clicked the shutdown button and watched the computer screen flicker off in my peripheral vision, never moving my eyes away from Jack. No matter how much I didn’t want it to, my breathing became rapid and shallow—as if my body remembered to be frightened even when my mind was fighting mad—and I leaned forward in the chair, ready to spring out of it if I needed to.

“It’s been too long,” he said as he leaned against the door looking like he had no intention of going anywhere for a while. “What a wonderful surprise to see you here. I’d thought it was going to be a stuffy, boring night, and then you blow in like a pretty summer breeze. The party got infinitely better when you arrived.”

“Fuck off.”

“Ah, now. That’s no way to talk to the son of your father’s most influential political colleague.” He strolled into the center of the room, brushed his blond hair out of his eyes, and smiled at me. “What say we take our little party of two somewhere else?”

He reached the opposite side of the desk, and I turned off the monitor with a shaking hand, then warily stood up.

There was a desk between us. He couldn’t reach me. And there was a penthouse full of people. They would hear me if I screamed, right?

And I would scream my head off if he even touched me. I would scream before he even got close.

“Not now,” I said. “Not ever.” I glanced over at the printer again, the light flashing on and off, and took a step toward it. “I have enough to worry about right now—I can’t deal with you, too. Go away. Leave me the fuck alone.”

Jack stepped in my direction.

“Come on, Reagan. We had such a good time together before, didn’t we?”

I grabbed a heavy paperweight from the desk, ready to hurl it at his head if he took another step toward me. “You’re talking about out in the Hamptons, right?” Jack nodded, his twisted face lighting up at the mention. “You fucking raped me, you asshole—”

“Reagan.” Pierce stood in the now open doorway, an unsure expression on his face. “I was asked to come find you.” He looked hard at Jack. “Everything okay in here?”

Jack shrugged, and I rounded the other end of the desk, scooped up the papers from the printer, and was at Pierce’s side in seconds, stuffing the printed files into my bag. I swallowed hard, wondering how much of that Pierce had heard—half caring, half not-giving-a-shit—and slid out of the room behind him.

“Pierce?” I said when he didn’t turn around to follow me out.

“You go ahead, Reagan,” Pierce said. “Jackson and I need to have a little chat.”

I rushed down the hall, my heart pounding, not even looking behind me to see Pierce close the door. I shoved the papers farther down into my bag, and zipped it shut. Pushing past guests, I kept my head down and shot straight for the elevator, feeling like I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

A cork popped in the ballroom, and I flinched, my heart jackhammering against my ribcage.

All around me people were laughing and talking, drinking and toasting each other, and all I could think was
How could they?

How could they be so happy and carefree when Arianna lay cold and dead in the morgue? How could they pretend that bad things didn’t happen to the completely innocent? How could they not see that dangers lurked everywhere, waiting to hurt the people you loved?

I felt like my entire world had changed in one night. In one fatal blast.

Turning, I pressed the call button for the elevator, my eyes starting to water, sobs trying to claw their way out as my mind filled with thoughts of Ari again. But I would not make a scene here. I would not give my father more headlines to help with his campaign—Mayor’s Daughter Collapses in Grief at Fundraiser. I had no doubt he’d be out here in a nanosecond, ready to throw his arms around me for the accompanying photograph.

I shook my head, feeling more strongly than ever that I did not belong with these people, and that sometimes family—the true meaning of family—was who you chose to invite into your life, rather than who you grew up with.

Pierce’s voice suddenly echoed down the hall, and I turned to see Jack following him out of the room, his gaze landing on me and staying glued there.

I pressed the button again. Why wasn’t the damn thing here yet?

“Reagan!” My mother rushed out of the ballroom. She planted herself in between me and the elevator. “You cannot leave so early.” Panic flooded her face as her eyes darted to the guests. “You haven’t even shown your face yet. What are people going to think?”

I didn’t fucking care what anyone thought. Not anymore.

“Tell them I wasn’t feeling well,” I said, then glanced at my sister’s disapproving expression as she watched me from across the hall. “Or, what the hell, why don’t you tell them the truth? Tell them the guy my father let out of prison a few months ago tried to blow me up yesterday, and ended up killing my friend.”

Then the elevator doors opened and I slipped inside, reaching around for the button to the ground floor before I’d even gotten all the way in.

The last thing I saw as the doors closed, besides the shocked expression on my mother’s face, was Jackson turning to smirk at me before he headed down the stairs toward the lobby.

Exactly where I was going.

twenty

“W
ait, hold up, Ree. Slow down.” I pressed my phone to one ear and put my palm against the other to block out the sound of traffic going by. “Did you say someone’s following you?”

“Yes.” She was breathing hard. “He’s about block behind me. I don’t know where to go.”

Fuck. I knew I shouldn’t have left her there alone. I tossed my coffee in the trash, bolted out of the shop and threw a leg over my bike. “Where are you?”