The Insiders Read online

  I was doing the math.

  Bright was silent. One second.

  A kidnapping attempt.

  Bright’s eyes shifted, staying on my mother.

  They mentioned my father.

  Chrissy’s head lowered, her gaze falling to her lap. Bright pursed her lips together once again, in disapproval.

  We were at Phoenix Tech.

  “Why are we here again?” My voice was hoarse. “Why not the police station? Why not somewhere else?”

  Bright was waiting. She knew I was putting it together.

  All those scholarships.

  The way my brain worked.

  Only 2 to 15 percent of all children have a photographic memory, and an even lower percentage retain it into adulthood, but I had it. And I knew one other person who had it. His face and name were plastered everywhere—websites, magazine covers, documentaries.

  He had dark hair that, in a small group of photographs, looked like it had a bluish tint to it. The details might have been missed. But I was savvy with the computer, and he was my childhood idol growing up. I was obsessed with learning as many facts about him as I could—another computer genius who worked with the government and ran a Fortune 500 empire that specialized in computer security.

  There was a lock unlocking.

  Click.

  Click.

  It connected, one last, final, and resounding click into place.

  Detective Bright broke the silence. “You were taken because your birth father is—”

  I spoke at the same time as her, and together we said his name. “Peter Francis.”

  Peter Francis was the CEO of Phoenix Tech.

  THREE

  Bright’s voice was emotionless, cold almost. “My partner and I are here as a personal favor to your father. We’ve done work with him before and are familiar with your case.”

  Father. I had a father. Not the one I thought I had, but someone else. Someone new. Someone powerful. Of course he’d want to be cautious.

  There was a camera pointing at us from the corner of the room.

  Bright cleared her throat. “You’re here as a precaution.”

  “For what?”

  She didn’t answer, watching me a moment before her eyes slid toward my mother.

  I couldn’t follow. I couldn’t look at her. If I did, if I spoke to her, I’d lose it.

  She had lied. All this time.

  Chrissy Hayes raised me right. Violence was bad, unless defending yourself. And even though it felt like someone was attacking me at the moment, I was too shocked to do much except sit here, pretend I was a fully functioning human at the moment.

  But.

  Holy effin shit.

  Peter Francis.

  “Honey.” Chrissy knew it was her turn to step up to the plate. I had to give credit to her survival instincts. Her voice was starting quiet, all demure like.

  I couldn’t look at her, but my voice dropped low. Hoarse. “You gave me my first Computer Weekly in fourth grade. I found it early. It was supposed to be a Christmas gift, but you gave it to me anyway. You special ordered it from the UK.” I remembered the feel of it, how much it weighed, how it felt like the clouds parted and choir music started singing. “They did an article on him. November twelfth.” I saw his picture, how black his hair was, how he had honey-brown eyes too, but they were covered by glasses. “I can tell you the journalist’s name, the byline under it. ‘Computer Genius, Peter Francis.’”

  “Honey.”

  I was not done. Not now, when I was just starting.

  My voice matched Bright’s, emotionless and monotone. “I have two uncles, one in California. The other in New York. Both work in Phoenix Tech branches. Four cousins to the California one. Another cousin in New York. Two half brothers. One half sister. He has an estate on the outskirts of Chicago, in Ashwick.”

  Which was an hour from where I lived.

  I looked. I had to.

  My mom was looking down at her lap, her hands twisting around the sleeve ends, and after her chest rose and fell once, she lifted her head.

  Still no words. Fine. I could keep going.

  “You said you worked for him one time.” Fifth grade. She told me over the phone, when I asked if I could join the computer club. They had an extracurricular program. “I nearly crapped my pants when you told me.”

  “I took care of his mother when I was in nursing school. In Saint Louis.”

  “I asked if you met him.” My voice rose, same as my blood had. “I asked you. You said no!”

  “I didn’t say that…” But she looked away, because she had, and she knew she had.

  “Okay. Let’s pause for a moment.” Bright held up a hand. She was wincing. “You’re shouting.”

  I hadn’t realized.

  I didn’t care.

  I wrote my application essay on my father, the father that was a goddamn lie. I thought he served in the military, and I wanted to show my respect in my own way. But it was a lie.

  Calm. I needed to be calm. Calm was mature. I was twenty-two. I could be calm.

  Screw it. I couldn’t be calm.

  I threw my arms up, shoving the chair back and standing at the same time. “What else have you lied about?!”

  “Nothing!” Chrissy shot to her feet, her hands up. “I swear. Nothing else. It was—”

  I stopped. Everything stopped. I felt my heart thump hard. “What? It was what?” My head inclined forward. I rolled to my toes, lifting off the balls of my heels. “You what?”

  “Nothing.” The temporary fight left her. Her shoulders folded in on themselves, and she sank to her seat. Her elbows rested on the table. She buried her head in her hands. “I’m so sorry, Bailey. I really am. I—” She choked off her next word, looking up with haunted eyes.

  I looked away. I didn’t want to see her torment. Her torment.

  I grimaced, but I was angry. I had a right to be. There was an entire family I didn’t know about, and she made that decision. Not me. Did he—no, no, no. The spinner was on in my head, going round and round, but I was feeling overwhelmed.

  I whipped around, heading for the door. “I have to get out of here. I can’t think—”

  The door opened, and Detective Wilson stepped inside.

  I moved aside, reaching to catch the handle after he let go.

  He didn’t. He shut the door and moved in front of it. Then he folded his hands in front of him. “You’re not leaving this room.”

  My mom spoke up, sighing. “Let her go. She just needs to walk for a bit. She’ll come back with eighty percent of the answers already figured out.”

  Wilson’s response was to fold his arms over his chest. He locked eyes with me. “Sit down. You have to make a decision before we can pass you off.”

  A decision? I needed out of there. I needed air, and space, but I also needed answers.

  I looked right at my mom. “I’ll stay.” A beat passed. “If she goes.”

  Chrissy’s mouth dropped. “Bailey…”

  I wasn’t normally a cold person, or an angry person. I joked. They were lame jokes, but it was my thing. It was early morning by now. The attack at my house was last night. It felt so long ago. It was 4:18 a.m. when I was being taken to the hospital. Another two hours waiting, being looked over. One more hour to get released, and the last hour it took to be brought here.

  It hit me then, why we’re here.

  All of this—everything that had happened after they tried to take me—was all for him.

  I looked up at the camera then.

  He was watching me.

  I gutted out, “You gotta go, Mom.”

  She went.

  FOUR

  Everything happened simultaneously after that.

  Bright’s phone buzzed. She gave the nod to her partner, and the door opened again.

  I don’t know who I was expecting to come through that door. It could’ve been Chrissy coming back, or my father deciding to meet me in person, but I was not expecting the
man who stepped inside our room. If I could call him a man, because he looked like a young man, like he was only a few years older than me. But no. Thinking on it, I was right the first time. He was all man.

  He was hot.

  Cognac-brown eyes, hair almost as dark as mine, a strong jawline. There were indentations around his mouth, making his lip so pronounced, and so tempting. His cheekbones were high and chiseled. Broad and defined shoulders. Lean, athletic build.

  There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him.

  I was looking, and I shouldn’t be, but I was, and I was doing the calculating in my head, and yeah. This guy was ripped.

  He was mesmerizing.

  And he had power and authority and he knew how to use both of them.

  He walked into that room like he owned it, like he’d been there the whole time, like everyone and everything belonged to him and we had yet to learn that fact.

  The room shrank around him.

  The air electrified. It became more energized.

  Bright and Wilson both straightened, their shoulders rolling back.

  They weren’t the only ones affected.

  This guy didn’t even look at me, but I felt his attention. I felt that if I moved even a strand of hair, he’d know. My insides were turned inside out because, whoever this guy was, I already felt owned, and I hated that.

  My body was warming. A fire was in there, building. My throat felt parched.

  I felt zapped, all my nerve endings already at the ready, and it was just because this guy walked into the room.

  He nodded to both detectives, who dipped their heads in return.

  A chair scraped against the floor. A click of heels and both detectives were gone.

  The door slammed shut behind them.

  The brevity of the situation hit me hard, right in the sternum, and I swallowed over a sudden lump in my throat. I wasn’t sure if it was a good lump or a quivering one, but here we were.

  It was me and him. We were alone in this room. And then another fact hit me square in the forehead. It hadn’t been my father watching. It was this guy.

  Who was this guy?

  He’d been the one on the other side of that camera. I felt it, the hairs on the back of my neck standing upright. Tingles shot through me, sweeping through me, making me feel more. Just … more.

  I wasn’t sure if I liked this “more.”

  He looked at me squarely, and I was pinned in place.

  Then he spoke. “My name is Kashton Colello, and I am an associate of your father’s. No, your mother does not know about me, and yes, I am aware of who you are. I know what happened to you earlier tonight, and I am here to give you two options. You can leave with me, meet your father and your siblings, or you can disappear into a witness protection type of program with your mother.” He paused, just one beat. “Leave with me, meet your father, or disappear with your mother.” The corner of his mouth tugged up in a smirk. “Your choice.”

  A second.

  Two.

  I stared at him, standing by the table as he was sitting, waiting, and I felt slapped across the face.

  It took me two seconds to know my response. That was it.

  I stepped in, placed a hand on the table, leaned in, and breathed on him.

  “Fuck. You.”

  * * *

  I was given twenty-four hours.

  I had a day and a night to decide. That was it.

  Mr. Stick Up My Ass Kashton Colello hadn’t even seemed insulted by my response. There was no reaction on his face before he nodded. “Fine. Your mother is outside, waiting in an SUV. We’ll have you taken to a nearby hotel. You can decide tomorrow morning.”

  Decide.

  I wanted to give him the middle finger, and just about did. I was raising my hand when he spoke again, his voice so goddamn cold. “There have been other attempts.”

  If I felt slapped by him before, those words punched me. Hard. Right in the gut.

  He didn’t wait to let me process it, saying, still so fucking cold, “They tried to take your father. They didn’t succeed. Security doubled. They moved to your siblings. They came close twice. Security tripled.” A brief pause. “They’re going for the outliers now, the ones who aren’t protected.”

  That was me. An outlier.

  An outsider.

  The outcast.

  “They got the littlest one for ten minutes.” He stood. “And this is what we know about these types of people. They will try again, and they do not care about the ex-girlfriends or ex-mistresses, so while your mother will be safe, you will not be. If you return to Brookley, the quaint small town it is, they will try again. If you leave with me, your mother does not have to have her life upended. She can return there, live her life happily but away from her daughter, while you give us time to search out your abductors and eliminate this threat.”

  * * *

  And here we were, heading to a hotel.

  We had two SUVs with us.

  There was no word to describe this.

  Everything was different.

  I glanced over to my mom. Chrissy was gazing out the window, a slight excited smile on her face. When I got out to the SUV, she looked at me, but I only said we’d talk later. I might’ve growled it. Or grunted it. I didn’t know. I was still peeved, so I had transferred from the Numb Train to the Not Giving a Shit Train. Either way, she just seemed relieved.

  We were driving through downtown Chicago, so her eyes kept going up, her neck craning to see the tops of the buildings all around us.

  I recognized the look in her eyes.

  She thought everything would be fine now. She was relieved, more than anything else.

  I twisted my hands together in my lap.

  Brookley had her job. Bingo night at the local VFW. My aunt Sarah. Chrissy was a godmother to two of my cousins. My two uncles. My grandparents. Her younger sister. There was a family tribe there, and they all had their own friends, who were my mother’s friends. Yes, there were issues and divides, but she wanted to be there.

  My mom was tough. Hardworking. She never wanted a handout, refused them 102 percent of the time. She got into nursing school, dropped out for a year to have me, then finished the next.

  I took that one year from her.

  How could I take everything else from her?

  “Oh!” Her hand grabbed my arm and squeezed. “Bailey.”

  We were pulling into a hotel parking lot. The Francois Nova. It was one of those skyscraper ones, a hotel that could’ve been in a magazine. I might have been impressed a day ago.

  Now it was just the last time I’d see my mom.

  For a while. That’s what that asshole had said. He needed time. Things would get safe, and I could go back.

  Right. I was going with that. It didn’t make my insides feel like they’re being ripped out of me.

  “We’re here,” Chrissy said, just as the doors on both sides of the SUV opened and we clambered out.

  We were surrounded by cement on a dark parking ramp.

  Six guards stood around us, most facing outward, but one went to the door connecting the hotel to the parking ramp. He knocked once, and it opened.

  Another two guards stood on the other side, along with a hotel employee. Make that two employees. A woman with her name pinned to her shirt, a pencil skirt, and hair pulled up in a tight bun waited for us. Another employee stood behind her, a bellhop. He was in full hotel uniform, even wearing white gloves.

  The woman took us to our room, but it had to be inspected by the guards first.

  My mom went inside, and I turned to look at the guards. They all watched me back, their faces impassive. I was going with my gut here. “You guys work for him, don’t you?” I didn’t know the setup, the hierarchies, but while my father might’ve been the big boss, I knew Asshole Kashton was their boss, too.

  I didn’t get a response. I didn’t expect to.

  “I’ll let you know my answer in the morning, and not a second before.”

 
Then I slipped inside, not feeling satisfied at all.

  I checked the peephole. Two guards were outside the door. I’m sure they had one at each stairway, maybe even at the elevator too.

  Chrissy came out from the bedroom. “This place is amazing.”

  Yeah. It sure was. Amazing.

  She headed for the bathroom. “They gave us clothes … and what’s this?” She picked up a small bag, unzipping it. “And toiletries. There’s almost everything in here we need, but no…” She was sifting through it. “I’m going to need some Tums. With the wine I’m planning on drinking tonight, my reflux will not be pretty.”

  “They probably have some in the lobby. I’ll get you some later.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to interrogate her throughout the rest of the day.

  Maybe I’d already made my decision.

  Maybe I wanted to enjoy this last day with my mom.

  Or maybe I was already tired, knowing that tomorrow we’d be ripped apart, and I didn’t really know how long this would last.

  Or maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want to hear her excuses for the lies she’d told me all my life.

  Nope. I just wanted a day with my mom. I was going with that reason.

  We ordered in lunch. Ordered coffee. Ordered wine.

  It was after dinner when I needed to get a breather.

  I used the excuse to get her Tums.

  The guards didn’t want me to go, but I needed space. “Look…” I was suddenly exhausted. “I’m going with a feeling that Peter Francis owns this hotel. Am I right?”

  They didn’t answer. Again, I didn’t expect them to.

  “That means you probably have the entire hotel scoped out with security footage. That you probably have a perimeter set up around the hotel. That anyone questionable or someone who raises red flags will be removed quietly, but quickly. Right?”

  Still no answer.

  “So the risk assessment is probably less than ten percent if I go to the lobby to get my mom some antacids.”

  Still no response. They just stared at me.

  “Sixty percent of the adult population experience some type of reflux. That’s around seven million people.” I was quoting straight from the Healthline website. “I’m not asking to go buy a gun. My mom will be vomiting tonight if I don’t get her some Tums.”