Chapter 6 - THE SAFE HOUSE
The safe house was a penthouse forty floors above downtown Chicago.
Bulletproof windows.
Private elevator.
Four armed guards.
A nursery created in less than two hours.
I hated that Stellan could solve problems with money faster than I could understand them.
Fern loved the carpet.
She crawled across it laughing.
Stellan followed on his hands and knees.
I stood in the doorway and stared.
“You know she’s winning, right?”
He looked up.
“I’m letting her.”
“Sure.”
Fern squealed and slapped both hands on the floor.
Stellan copied her.
She laughed harder.
Something cracked inside my chest.
This was dangerous.
Not Marek.
Not bullets.
This.
Watching Fern discover her father.
Watching Stellan discover he could be one.
I walked away.
He followed ten minutes later.
“You’re angry.”
“I’m thinking.”
“That usually means you’re angry.”
I looked at him.
“Adrian joked.”
“Adrian was bleeding heavily.”
“He smiled.”
“I occasionally do that.”
“I haven’t seen proof.”
His mouth almost curved.
There.
Gone.
I folded my arms.
“Why did you never contact me?”
He leaned against the kitchen counter.
“After I saw Erik outside your apartment, I knew you were being watched. I stayed away.”
“For two years?”
“Marek disappeared for eight months. Then one of my warehouses burned. Then a judge on my payroll got arrested. Every time I thought the war was over, it started again.”
“You could have sent a letter.”
“If they intercepted it?”
“A phone call.”
“If they traced it?”
“You had money. People. Power.”
“And none of it made you safe.”
I had no answer.
His expression tightened.
“I checked on you.”
My eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“From a distance.”
“How often?”
He hesitated.
“Every month.”
Rage exploded.
“You knew I had Fern?”
“No.”
“How?”
“You moved.”
“Because I got pregnant!”
“My people lost you after your lease ended.”
“So much for the terrifying Stellan Cross.”
“I fired three men over it.”
“That is not comforting.”
He looked tired.
For the first time, I noticed how tired.
“You were safer missing.”
“I was broke.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Exactly.”
Fern cried from the nursery.
We both moved at once.
Our shoulders hit in the doorway.
“Move,” I said.
“I got her.”
“You don’t know what she needs.”
“She needs her father.”
I glared.
He stared back.
Fern screamed louder.
“Fine.”
Stellan lifted her.
She immediately grabbed his scar.
He winced.
I laughed.
He looked offended.
“She likes it.”
“She’s trying to remove your face.”
Fern pulled harder.
“Strong grip,” he muttered.
“Cross family trait?”
His expression softened.
“Maybe.”
The moment lasted three seconds.
Then Dominic entered.
He was holding a file.
“We found Mrs. Thornbury’s grandson.”
“Alive?” I asked.
“Yes.”
Relief rushed through me.
“Where?”
“Police station in Evanston. Somebody dumped him outside. Scared, but unharmed.”
Stellan’s shoulders eased.
Dominic held up the file.
“And we identified who authorized Erik Sloan’s movements.”
“Who?”
Dominic looked uncomfortable.
“Your father.”
The room went silent.
Stellan’s father had been dead for four years.
“That’s impossible,” I said.
Dominic opened the file.
“The orders were entered under Silas Cross’s private authorization code.”
Stellan stared at the paper.
Then slowly looked at me.
“My father knew about you.”
“When?”
“Before the gala.”
A cold feeling spread through my body.
“That’s impossible.”
Stellan’s face became frighteningly blank.
“No.”
May you like
He looked down at Fern.
“It means our meeting wasn’t an accident.”
