Furiously, I slap my hands on the table. "Now the police are snooping their noses in my affair! What the fuck am I paying you for, huh?"

"We're doing our best, Mr. Kingston. But the evidence—"

"I DON'T GIVE the fuck about the damn evidence, you idiot! I want them to back off! No dead body, no murder case. Make that body disappear for good. And for fuck's sake, do I have to do your job for you now?" I bellow, loudly and clearly.

Useless! The legal team my ass; they can't even do a simple task.

Leaning closer, I repeat, "I need that Detective to shut up, Cooper. I don't care what you do, I don't want another cop setting foot near this building, or my house, ever again—are we clear?"

"Yes. I'll try my best." It's that incompetent answer. He fixes his ridiculous glasses before saying, "But I need to know something, Mr. Kingston. Did you kill that girl? I think it's a strong case now that the feminist activist lawyers are getting to the bottom of it. We need to be prepared."

He's the one I call the head of my legal team, yet right now I want to put a bullet in his head.

How gullible can he get?

Why is everything going so fuckin' wrong? Who even tipped the police about that whore's death when it was all wrapped up in a clandestine ol' fashion? Who is fucking with me now?

"Cooper," Derek steps in, circling his arm around the lawyer with that hideous smile he's been wearing since he walked into my office amid the conversation. "You know my old man has been through a lot lately, huh? Just cut him some slacks, please."

I look at Cooper sighing, seeming... stressed? For the love of God!

"It's just, I'm trying to—" He stammers.

"I know, I know." Derek walks him away. "You worked for us for more than a decade now, right? You know how things go. Why ask the obvious, huh? Just go and dig through those legal loopholes as you always do and make the annoying Detective Smith shut up. After this, you are free to operate that failed law firm of yours again with our blessings. Right, Pops?" He looks at me like a clown as I sit back in my chair.

Frankly, I don't care. I fucking want everyone out. With this blood pressure and cardiac shit, I can't even deal with a single outburst without feeling the pain in my chest.

Fuck!

When Cooper leaves, Derek gives that crass smile indicating another problem to worry about. We're still in the office, and maybe I'll just sleep here.

I hate going home. Not without Mia.

"Now you know she's alive, right?" Derek starts, reminding me of that nebby Detective's visit. "The woman you couldn't hesitate to fuck even when you knew she was bad news... and your wife's best friend. Oh, she was once my girlfriend too, but you never cared, Dad, did you?"

"Great!" I quit going through some real estate documents. Sighing, I look up at him. "You're not possibly here to lecture me about morals, are you, son?"

"No! How could I, Dad? I'm your spitting image after all, and hell, I should've fucked your little butterfly when I had the chance. You know, just to see how she tastes when her pretty legs are spread apart?"

"YOU bastard!" I leap out of my chair and jab a punch at his jaw. He staggers back, lightheaded. "Don't you dare speak of her in that tone! Do you understand me? Don't you dare talk about her or I'll forget you're my goddam son!"

Grouching, Derek starts laughing so diabolically whole nursing his jaw. "What, old man? Does it hurt more than the fact that she's carrying a bastard child from no one but your own employee? You thought you had it all together, didn't you? The king! Owning everyone! Stepping on everyone!"

"If you don't shut up, Derek, I swear I'm going to kill you!" I draw my revolver, a fire of rage flaming my insides.

The goofy smile dies on Derek's face and that Oh-daddy-you're-awful drama begins with a plaintiff's face he makes like a child he once was.

"Sometimes I wish you did, Dad. I wish you killed me that day you beat me up and told the media that I had an accident. Because that's exactly what I wanna do to you." He grits his teeth contemptuously, his eyes filled with ire and hatred. I pant heavily; it's the day I'm not proud of. "But I won't do that because your time is up anyway. I'd lay low if I were you, and consider signing the share transfer agreement. Family first, right? Although I doubt you care about that at all."

"I'd rather give my shares to charity than leave them to you! You backstabbing son of a bitch!" I press the gun into his chest. His heart. "You're the one who fabricated the whole Anne thing. You motherfucker! And you framed my wife for that."

"Ex-wife! Correction." He's enjoying it, this idiot. His lips stretch into a wicked grin. He's a replica of me. He's my son indeed. "But since you asked, yes. I'm the one who fabricated everything, with a little help from our genius Cora. Well, I wanted to hit you where it hurts the most. Clipping your butterfly's wings."

I swallow the bile in my throat and I can't believe I've raised a monster.

Smiling, Derek goes on, "But then I realized I was doing you a favor because inflicting terror in her has been your specialty all along. Sabotaging her business, sleeping around with mistresses, sending people to kidnap her so she doesn't leave the house and be another Elena Barrios, and so many shady things that I'm sure the court would've loved to hear in your divorce suit—thank God it didn't happen. But karma is a bitch. The same bodyguard you hired to keep an eye on her, turned out to be the one to screw you."

"Shut the—" I stop when this son of a bitch maneuvers his way to grab the revolver from my grip and point it at my stomach. I clamp my teeth, raising my chin cautiously. "You don't want an enemy out of me, son. No, you don't," I enunciate.

He swallows tightly. He knows he can't kill me without making sure the Kingston empire is bequeathed to him upon my death. I know him as I know myself. He's greedy but not foolish.

"You better sign that document, Dad, or else things are gonna be very ugly for you," he tells me sternly into my ear. "I have Anne Scott. You know what that means, right? She's gonna spill her guts and be your downfall. Oh, let's not forget Mia who's one hell of a bomb." He throws the gun away before adding, "Good luck with your murder cases. And for the records, my dick has dignity so no, we're not really the same."

As soon as the door shuts, I make a call.

"I need Derek tailed twenty-four-seven and leave no stone unturned until you find Anne Scott," I speak into the phone. "And also, change of plan. I want my wife captured ASAP. I WANT HER ALIVE."

"Who sent those men?" Anne demands hysterically.

Busy with the disposable phone, I don't respond. I try to call Luca and Mia but none of it goes through.

"I'm talking to you, dammit!" the redhead continues, seated beside me on the cab we hauled along the way after walking a mile.

I swear I'd pay any amount to make her shut up because I've been stuck with the same chirping voice for as long as I can remember.

"Please stop by any payphone around," I tell the bored-looking cab driver whose dubious eyes toward Anne and I had been tense with no reservations.

He halts near the old booth in the middle of the road. Partial rainfall brushes onto us when I push Anne inside it, and I squeeze in. Furtively, I take her hand and place a coin I've fished from my jacket.

I always keep a few coins.

"Call your boss. No more mysteries. No more secrets!" I command her. She blinks twice, baffled. "It's your choice whether you want those men who chased us to torture information out of you or let me finish this once and for all. And trust me, you wouldn't want the former to be your option because you won't last a round."

A moment of indecisiveness passes, and Anne pushes me, plucks the telephone, and slides the coin. Her call turns short and cryptic, but nothing beyond me.

"Yes, he's with me," she adds in the end, eyes on me. "Okay. See you there."

Whoever her boss is, agrees to meet.

Right Now.

Twenty minutes later we arrive at a vacation house just a few miles from Downtown Portland.

"Is this where you've been hiding all this time?" I ask, scanning the rustic 90s interiors of the living room.

"Yeah." Anne slams the front door shut. "Want a drink? There's a hot tub too, in case you're fond of business and pleasure."

I ignore the remark by taking a quick tour around the place, making sure it's just us without an extra.

"Relax! No one else knows about this place," Anne says while kicking her heels for the second time.

She had to take them off in the tunnel, which explains her gross feet that make her crinkle her nose.

"Damn this smell!" She laments. I shut the side window before parading back to her. "You know, I'm just curious. Why are you searching for the X-File? And... Is that why you seduced Mia and even got her pregnant? Surely that wasn't part of the plan, right?" Her inept laughter suggests a hint of contentment if ever her assumption is true.

Looking at her, I debate whether she's being sassy or it's her weird sense of humor. Clearly, there's no way I'm gonna answer that question because, for the most part, my involvement with Mia was never part of any plan, and this crazed woman is the last person I'd talk to about it.

To divert the conversation, I ask her, "When is your boss coming?"

"For crying out loud, he's not my boss!" She snarls at me.

It's a man, after all. Good. I'm so done dealing with another one of her kind, with all due respect.

"You don't answer any question I ask, but you expect me to be prompt with all your inquiries! That's not fair!" She looks genuinely wounded, but if there's one thing I've learned about her is the manipulation of words. To affirm my theory, she strides closer and subtly set her fingers over my chest, moving them seductively. "I've survived death twice, Red. I've been scooped in this house for weeks and now that I'm trying to at least feel alive by talking to someone, you're—"

"Can you please stop whatever you're trying to do right now? Just... Just stop because you look pathetic." Hearing her talk makes me feel like a fool. "I'm not Derek Kingston. Or Patrick. Or any other guys you charm for whatever reason. I don't care about your little tale-tell, Anne, so don't get comfortable with me."

She backs off, her face a bit wallowing. I glance at my watch and it's nearly midnight.

That Spanish woman must be panicked by now.

"You love her, don't you?" Anne interrupts. "Like.. for real? Not just for this mission of yours or whatever?" She seems serious and I'm stunned.

What is it that suffers from? Some sort of delusion that she must have everything Mia has?

"I do love her. For real." Let's get it over with. "Now, tell me about him—your partner. What's his stake in this? What does he really want?" I sit on the classic brown sofa.

"That won't be necessary for me to indulge. He's here; you can ask him yourself." Anne announces and sporadic headlights blink from the front yard.

A silenced sedan pulls over.

We watch it through the large bay windows. It's dark outside so I hold myself ready for any form of attack, even though Anne seems relaxed and confident about the person coming.

And when Anne opens the door, it's Eliot Kingston who walks in.

________

A/N: In case you're confused, I tore down yesterday's chapter and rewrote it. I also changed book titles and covers because there are plenty of bodyguard books in Wattpad alone. Tell me what you think of all the changes; your opinion matters.