Hacker: Hardpressed Part 15

"I love you too."

CHAPTER NINE.

Someone was knocking on my door.

"What do you want?" I groaned from under the covers.

"Rise and s.h.i.+ne. I thought you could use some breakfast."

I peeked out from the duvet. Heath looked fresh and peppy, holding a tall iced coffee and what I hoped was a box of donuts. Only caffeine could get me vertical this morning.

I sat up slowly. I didn't feel quite as terrible as I should have, thanks to Blake's late night hangover prevention advice. I reached for the coffee and leaned against my headboard. Heath sat down at the foot of the bed, eyeing me tentatively. He was probably waiting for me to lash out at him. If I'd felt better, I might have.

"I hate you, you know?" My voice was hoa.r.s.e, which detracted from the intended impact of the words.

"I know. I was sort of hoping this could be a peace offering."

I grimaced at the memory of James's subtle advances, and worse, that Heath had likely witnessed it all.

"For the record, there's nothing going on between James and me. He was getting too friendly maybe, but he works for me. If someone needs to set him straight, I'd like to be the one to do it."

"Honestly, it's none of my business. Blake was grilling me about who you were with, and I wasn't going to lie to him. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. Blake's hauled me out of more bars than I can count. They weren't my finest moments either."

I cast my gaze down at the blanket, picking at a tiny feather poking through the white fabric. "I'm sorry he put you in that position. I suppose if I had been more reachable, even though Blake is completely crazy, that whole scene could have been avoided. A bar is probably the last place you really needed to be last night."

"Don't worry about that. My sobriety isn't that tenuous. If it were, I doubt Blake would have sent me in there. I think he just thought I was a better option than Clay." His lips curled into a smile.

I laughed at the thought of Clay, who was one of the largest men I'd ever seen, negotiating with James about who was giving me a ride home. Talk about mortifying.

"Good call." I took a long sip of my coffee, feeling my brain come back to life a bit. "Heath, how do you deal with Blake?"

"Don't you mean, how does he deal with me?"

I laughed quietly. I could have easily said that not so long ago, but Heath had changed so much. He seemed like the reasonable one somehow, and Blake was the impulsive one of the two. "I don't know. It's like we said that night in Vegas, how everyone sort of orbits around him. I don't know how he does what he does, or why he even wants to sometimes.

"Erica, I owe him my life at this point. After everything he's done for me, I'm willing to defer to just about whatever he thinks is best. If that's helping with the business, moving here, whatever he needs. G.o.d knows, I'm not so great with making decisions."

"You're thinking about moving here, permanently?"

His gaze met mine. Clearly he hadn't meant to tell me that.

"We've talked about it. I've slipped up so many times in New York, and I have a lot of support here between Blake and my folks. I need to talk to Alli about it though. She's the most important person in my life right now. I want to know that we can deal with that before I make a decision."

I didn't imagine Alli would take it very well, but I wasn't about to test their already complicated relations.h.i.+p by b.u.t.ting in. "Don't worry. I won't say anything. I'm sure she'll come to me when she wants to talk about it."

He seemed relieved. "Thanks."

"Do your parents live close?" I couldn't help but linger on the mention of them.

"About half an hour north of the city. They don't usually come into town, but when I'm around, we try to do dinner once a week."

"Oh." I tried to hide my surprise. Of all the time Blake and I had spent together, I had no idea his parents were so close or that he regularly saw them. That he hadn't mentioned either to me stung a little. Naively, I'd never thought much about the rest of his family outside of Heath and Fiona. My own family was decidedly far from normal, if present at all. Heath made it sound like they had something more stable though.

"What are you up to today?" Heath grabbed my attention again.

"Who wants to know?" I teased.

"Hey, I'm off the clock now. Was just making small talk."

"Show me you mean it, and give me those donuts."

In a perfect reflection of my hung-over state, the day was overcast and dreary. Not wanting to be caught in weather, I let Clay drive me to the office. I was starting to pity him since he hadn't gotten a day off since Blake had put him to the task of taxiing me around.

I skipped my usual stop into Mocha. I was already powered up and I wasn't sure if I could handle a debriefing from Simone just yet. I settled in at my desk. A text dinged on my phone.

James: You alive? I'm headed into the office in a bit.

Erica: Have officially risen from the dead. Already here. No rush.

I should probably talk to James about last night. Maybe I could get away with avoiding it altogether. I mean, we'd both been drinking. People make all manner of bad choices under those circ.u.mstances. At the end of the day, keeping things professional at work was probably just as important to him as it was to me. He wanted to keep his job, after all.

I checked my email and found my way to the news. The details surrounding Mark's death were too compelling to resist. I felt like a driver pa.s.sing the scene of a terrible accident and I couldn't look away. They had new photos of Daniel and Margo, looking as grieved as I expected them to be, trying to avoid the paparazzi's cameras. My heart ached for them, as twisted as the sentiment was for me. My sympathy had become partial and conditional.

On impulse, I picked up the phone and scrolled through the numbers until I landed on Daniel's. I took a breath and made the call, fully expecting it to go to voicemail. All I wanted to do was let him know they were in my thoughts, which seemed like the appropriate thing to do under the circ.u.mstances. I was his daughter after all. I didn't want him to think I didn't care, even if Margo wanted me to keep my distance.

I was shocked when Daniel picked up.

"Hi." I struggled with how to proceed. The usual how are you line wasn't going to work here. "I know this probably isn't a good time. I just wanted to let you know that I'm thinking about you and Margo. I'm so sorry."

He was silent for what seemed like a long time. "Do you think we could meet today?"

I resisted the urge to agree immediately. Margo's words echoed in my mind. "Today?"

"Can you meet me at Castle Island in an hour?"

He sounded different somehow, less guarded and curt. The casual tone should have been welcome, perhaps, but it worried me. I bit my lip, wis.h.i.+ng I knew what he was thinking.

"Okay," I agreed.

"Do you need a ride? I can send a car."

"No, I'm good. I'll see you in a little bit."

I hung up and texted James that I was heading out for a while. An uneasy sense of urgency compelled me as I exited out the back and onto the cross street where I hailed a cab. Blake would be furious if he knew I was trying to slip under the radar, but I didn't want to have to explain to Daniel why I was traveling with my brawny bodyguard.

The rain had subsided, but a heavy fog had settled over the bay as the cab pulled up. I paid the fare and stepped out. A sole black Lincoln was parked nearby. Otherwise the usually busy beach stretched along the loop was bare due to the weather.

As I approached, an orange-haired brute of a man stepped out of the driver's side. His eyes were impossibly light, barely blue, and freckles scattered thickly across his face.

"He's down there," he said, gesturing toward the path that began the full circle around the bay, the end of which had disappeared in the fog.

I started down the path, searching for Daniel's figure as I gained visibility. He finally came into view. In khakis and a brown bomber jacket, he stood overlooking the gla.s.sy water of the bay, the patchy view of the city skyline ahead.

He smiled faintly as I approached. Despite his casual dress, he seemed even older than I'd remembered. The gray in his hair more obvious, and the lines of his face more defined.

"Thanks for coming out."

"Of course." I felt uneasy though I wasn't exactly sure why. Maybe I had underestimated how awkward this might be.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a s.h.i.+ny engraved flask. He twisted off the top and offered it to me. I shook my head. He brought it to his lips and drained a good portion of it. Breath hissed out through his teeth, permeating the air with the peaty smell of scotch. The good kind.

"I'm so sorry, Daniel." I reached out and touched his shoulder. He replaced the flask in his jacket and covered my hand with his own. He turned and sat down on one of the granite slabs that provided a barrier between the path and the water below. Keeping my hand in his, he pulled me down so I was seated beside him.

"You don't need to do that."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't need to say you're sorry, Erica."

I frowned. Was he trying to be strong? "Daniel, I am sorry. I don't like to see you hurting. I can't imagine what you must be going through. I wish I could do something."

A wave of guilt rushed over me. Would I bring Mark back if I had the choice? As sad as I was for Daniel's loss, I was unmistakably grateful for my own. I couldn't bring myself to empathize with him the way I would have under very different circ.u.mstances. I was a walking contradiction. But Daniel was my father. We had a sad excuse for a history, but he needed as much support as I could give him right now.

He shook his head and released my hand, diving back into his jacket for the flask. After he'd emptied it, he turned to me. His eyes were bloodshot as they burned into mine. From the alcohol or from emotion, I couldn't tell, but his expression appeared unmistakably haunted.

"I don't know how it happened, but almost from the moment you walked into my life, you became my pride, Erica. I never really knew what that felt like before until you. That's pretty depressing, isn't it?"

His words robbed me of air. I swallowed hard and drew in an unsteady breath. He brushed my hair back lightly from my face. The tenderness in his gesture made my heart twist.

"What about Mark?"

He turned his focus back on the horizon, the empty islands beyond. "No amount of parenting could help Mark. I don't know. His father pa.s.sed away unexpectedly, and by the time Margo and I got married, I already felt like he was too far gone for me to really help. There was a darkness that lived inside the boy, and for a long time I thought I could channel that into something. Christ, corporate America is full of cold, heartless b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, but he couldn't even seem to play by those rules. With everything we'd given him..." He sighed and shook his head. "He wanted for nothing. Nothing."

The way he emphasized the last word, I didn't doubt it.

His expression brightened slightly. "And then there's you. You had none of my money or influence. None of the opportunities, but still here you are, so driven and everything I could have wanted for you. And you're mine." He smiled softly. "That's the best part."

I struggled to rein in my emotion, but I was drowning in his words. Could he really mean everything he said? Was this the booze talking? He seemed to be reading from the script of everything I'd ever wanted him to say. I'd waited years to hear those words from him, before I even knew who he was or what he'd meant to my mother.

"And to know that the son I gave everything to...hurt you." The muscles of his jaw tightened as he looked away again.

"You knew?" My voice was too quiet, almost disappearing in the ocean breeze that blew across us.

"You were so upset at the gala. I could see it all over your face. I confronted Mark about how he knew you the night of the gala, and he admitted everything. He was pretty pleased with himself, actually. He let me know that if I planned to get in the way of him pursuing you, he'd out the truth about our relations.h.i.+p. After everything I'd put into this campaign, he wanted to barter with me. Keep you safe or keep the campaign safe." His face twisted into a bitter snarl. "He can't hurt you anymore."

I froze, paralyzed by the words I'd tried to comfort myself with the last time Mark had held me captive in his arms.

"I don't understand. He...he killed himself." The last sentence sounded more like a question, because nothing seemed certain anymore.

"Certainly looked that way, didn't it?"

An eerie silence fell between us. I shook my head, unwilling to believe what he was implying. He couldn't have. I stood and took a few unsteady steps away before facing him again.

"Daniel, what are you saying?"

"I think you know."

"No...my G.o.d. You couldn't have...not for me."

He frowned. "Yes, for you. I did what had to be done, G.o.dd.a.m.nit. He was threatening you. Blake was threatening me. We're all better off without him, trust me."

He stood and fished a pack of cigarettes from his jacket. He lit one and took a long drag.

"What do you mean, Blake was threatening you?"

He shook his head and laughed a little. "I should have known better when you introduced us to him. You can't keep secrets from a man like Landon. Seems that having an election to win is a vulnerability that my enemies are more than willing to take advantage of."

"Blake's not your enemy." I had no idea what had gone on between him and Blake, but Blake knew how important my relations.h.i.+p with Daniel was. He wouldn't purposefully hurt him, even if he thought it was for my sake. At least I didn't think so.

Seriousness darkened his gaze and he took a step closer, pointing at me. "Anyone who wages threats, Erica, is an enemy, no matter their intentions. He came to me the day after the gala, letting me know, under no uncertain terms, that I was to get Mark out of your life. s.h.i.+p him off somewhere, to our New York office, a desert island. He didn't care much, as long as he was away from you. He said if I didn't, he'd compromise the campaign. I'm not the type of man you make idle threats to, but I'll admit I weighed my options." He blew a billow of smoke out the side of his mouth. "Now you're safe, the campaign's safe, and Blake's satisfied for the moment. Everyone wins."

"You...killed him?"

"I did what needed to be done." He raised his voice, directing his venom at me. "Don't act like you aren't f.u.c.king thrilled to have him out of your life." He rubbed his forehead and took a breath. "Margo, G.o.d love her, is the only one suffering right now, but she wanted me to win more than anyone. Now we will."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged and took another drag. "The numbers are already going up. Mark's death has painted me as a human relatable candidate. As soon as they close the investigation, which should be soon, the race will be in the bag. We can't lose."

I couldn't take another minute of it. The warmth I'd seen in him earlier had vanished, replaced with a smug and calculating man whose only concern was the shortest route to success. I had no idea how his love for or pride in me fit into this scenario, and I didn't want to know.

I started to make my way back toward the promenade. Daniel called my name but I kept walking briskly into the thick fog until I saw the end of the path.

I couldn't think straight anymore. Mark was gone. Heaven help me, Daniel had killed him. For me, or for the campaign? Who could do it, for any reason? Clearly I was in way over my head, because this all made sense to Daniel.

The orange-haired man met me at the end of the path, blocking most of the way with the width of his frame. He was no Clay, but he was not to be trifled with. I slowed as I came near.

"Mr. Fitzgerald needs to speak with you. Wait here."