Hush (Black Lotus #3) (10 page)

As we walk into the party, I stiffen my spine and feign my place in society with my head held high like I’ve done for years.

“Declan,” a gentleman who looks to be in his fifties calls out. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you.”

The two of them shake hands.

“It’s good to see you, Ian. How’ve you been?”

“Busy as ever,” he says before turning his attention to me, asking Declan, “And who’s this lovely lady?”

“You’re a charmer,” I lightly flirt and then introduce myself, “Elizabeth Archer.”

“Lucky man,” Ian notes, to which Declan responds while looking over to me, “Extremely lucky.”

We continue to mingle and Declan introduces me to old friends and a few business men and their wives. He drinks his typical Scotch and I sip champagne, we share a few dances, and when Declan can’t help himself, he whispers his obscene thoughts in my ear. “I want to take you to another room and suck on that pretty little clit of yours until you cum in my mouth.”

I drop my forehead to his shoulder as he speaks to me, my neck igniting in heat with each of his obscenities.

“Just thinking about the taste of your pussy gets my cock—”

“Declan!” a tall woman with long, dark hair says, interrupting our private moment. “I had no idea you were going to be here!” Annoyance rankles me when she pulls Declan in for a hug.

“Last minute move,” he tells her, composed as ever.

“Move? You’re living here now?”

“I am.”

“So I take it you purchased the land to build on?” she asks, and a trill of jealousy creeps alive in me with how much she knows.

“Davina, this is Elizabeth,” he introduces.

“Yes, I remember you. You were at the charity gala in Edinburgh last month, right?”

And then I remember. She was Declan’s date that night, hanging on his arm and constantly by his side.

“That’s right. And you are . . .?”

“An old family friend,” Declan answers for her.

“Practically brother and sister,” she adds with a big smile. “Although I do fondly remember our wedding. How old were we?”

“Ten. Eleven, maybe.”

Watching them go back and forth with such ease turns that jealousy into full blown spite.

“Sounds charming,” I interject with mockery, and when I do, I can feel Declan’s eyes hurling daggers at me, but I don’t engage.

Davina continues to wear her pretentious smile, adding, “The shortbread and jam reception wasn’t all that elegant, but it still makes for good memories.”

“Well, as much as I’d love to hear more about that humble reception of yours, you’ll have to excuse me.”

As I walk away from the both of them, I wonder if the feelings swarming inside me are anything like what Declan feels, because if I could put my mark on him like a dog claiming ownership, I would. I want to lock him up and pretend he never had a life before me.

And then I have to question how friendly they’ve been, because it was only a few weeks ago she was on his arm as his date.

Red heat slithers up my neck, and before I explode, I rush out the doors and into the chill of night. Clouds of vapor escape me with my heavy breathing. Never in my life have I felt threatened and jealous over a man, but then again, never in my life have I been in love. I loved my brother, but in a very different way. I knew he fucked other women—lots of other women, but never did I care. And just to know that this woman has had more time with Declan than I have is enough to ignite this thrashing inside me.

“What are you doing out here?” Declan asks from behind me.

“Did you fuck her?” I seethe quietly so passersby won’t hear.

He takes me by the arm and nearly drags me around the building to the parking lot in the back, pushing me against a random car. He isn’t happy about my question, but I ask it again.

“Did you?”

“Would it make you mad?”

My anger grows.

“Hmm? Answer me.”

“Yes,” I spit in hostility.

He presses his chest against mine, fury roiling behind his eyes when he asks, “Tell me how it makes you feel to think about my dick in another woman’s pussy.”

In a sudden flash, I slap him hard across the face, but he barely flinches.

“Go ahead. Hit me again.”

“Go to hell.”

“That outrage you feel,” he says through gritted teeth. “That rage mixed with passion and jealousy could never amount to what you made me feel. You let me fuck you, fall in love with you, all the while knowing you were fucking your husband. And then I find out you were also letting your brother fuck you. And you have the nerve to question me!” He takes a pause, pinching his eyes closed before opening them again and continuing. “Do I need to remind you of all the fucked up ways you destroyed me?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so. And to answer your question, no, I’ve never fucked her. Never wanted to.”

“She was your date.”

“Yes,” he responds. “She was. Like I told you, she’s an old friend. Our families were close and we grew up together. She’s attended many events with me in the past so I didn’t have to go with random women. But now I have you.”

Guilt eclipses jealousy.

“I’m sorry.”

“There should be no doubt in that heart of yours that you belong to me. Everyone in that room knows it. My cum is all over your skin, and yet you feel threatened by another woman.”

“You just . . .”

“You want to know my past? Because it isn’t that interesting. I’ve never been in love. Not once. I’ve dated less than five women in my life, but I never loved any of them. Did I fuck them? Yes. Have I fucked others? Yes, but not many. Casual sex isn’t really my thing. I’ve spent my life working hard, trying to live up to my father’s expectations. Work was always my main focus. And then there was you. You came into my life and turned everything upside down.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit. “I hate that you’ve seen so many of my weaknesses. I love you, there’s no question, but I don’t know how to do this the right way.”

“You don’t fool me. You’re the strongest woman I know.” He cups my face in his hands, dips his head down to my level, and looks deeply into my eyes, adding, “But you’re weak too, and when you let me see that part of you, it only makes me love you more. You and I have been through hell and back, and this isn’t going to be easy for either one of us.”

I slip my arms around his waist and rest my head against his chest.

Declan presses his lips to my head in a tender kiss. “You have nothing to worry about, you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

“We can go back in.”

“I’ve had enough socializing for one night. Let’s get out of here.”

The drive back to the apartment is a short one, and when we walk through the door, I kick off my heels. Declan gets the fireplace going and we simply hold each other as we lie on the couch. We settle into the silence and darkness, too lazy to slip out of our formalwear. I soak in the heat from his body while he runs his fingertips along my spine.

After a while, Declan’s phone rings. I’m edging on sleep when he takes the call.

“McKinnon . . . Yes. Let him up.” He ends the call and gently brushes my hair back. “Lachlan’s here,” he tells me, and I groan, not wanting to get up.

A couple minutes later there’s an abrupt knock on the door, and when Declan opens it, Lachlan rushes in.

“I’ve got it,” he announces urgently, holding a sheet of paper.

“What is it?” I question, standing and walking towards him.

He comes straight to me, passing Declan, and hands me the paper. “The passenger manifest.”

“THIS COULDN’T HAVE
gone any better,” the PI that I hired a few days ago tells me.

“Were you able to plant the device on him?”

“Even better. I followed Stroud from his hotel to a residential building. It wasn’t long before he emerged right out the building’s front doors with a woman. I trailed them as they walked to a department store,” he recounts as I sit in my derelict cubical and listen. “The woman was in the fitting room when he became distracted with a phone call. As soon as the woman walked out to the shopping racks, I figured her phone would have to do since I didn’t see a way to get to Stroud’s. It only took thirty seconds to find her cell phone in her purse, pop out the SIM card, and replace it with the tracker SIM.”

“Why the fuck do we care about some chick? You were supposed to plant it in Stroud’s phone.”

“This is when you’re going to thank me,” he says with a bout of pride. “I pulled the data stored on her phone, and that woman is Archer’s daughter.”

“He has a daughter?”

“Elizabeth Archer. She is exactly who we need to be following. It has to be her who’s looking for Archer. I looked into her, and it seems she went straight into foster care when Archer was arrested.”

“Holy shit,” I murmur in astonishment.

“I say we keep quiet and allow her to lead us to our point of contact.”

“I agree.”

“I’m now adjusting my surveillance off Stroud and onto the daughter. I’ll call you with any updates.”

HOURS HAVE PASSED
since Lachlan delivered the passenger manifest, and I’ve already completely scoured it. My heart sank a little when I didn’t see the name
Steve Archer
. I knew his name wouldn’t be on it, but all reasonable thought had vanished in that moment.

Declan immediately pushed Lachlan out when my emotions started getting the best of me. I tried to rein it in as best as I could since Declan is under the impression I’m taking the prescription that’s supposed to help these stress-induced meltdowns. But I couldn’t deafen myself to the piercing ring in my head. It was painful and sent me into a mild panic.

After I calmed down, Declan suggested I take a break, get a good night’s sleep, and revisit the manifest in the morning. But I can’t do that. My father is on this sheet of paper, I know it, and I can’t sleep until I find which name is his.

Sitting in Declan’s office while he’s sleeping in the other room, I continue to enter in each name into a people-finder database. I’m not even sure what I’m looking for to guide me in one direction or another, but I jot down any information that pops up for each male passenger. There were one hundred and twenty-two men on that plane. One hundred and twenty-two different paths to follow, but only one will lead me to my dad.

This particular flight was based out of a large hub in Dallas, so the plane is comprised of passengers from all over the States. I star the ones that have a home address in Illinois, but truth is, he’s most likely somewhere else if he’s hiding out.

My eyes strain against the glow of the laptop in the dark room, but I keep going, entering in the next name:
Dennis Lowery

“What are you doing?”

Declan’s voice startles me, and when he flicks on the lights, I shield my eyes for a moment as they adjust to the brightness.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

He walks over to me, rounding the desk to see what I’m up to, and when I look up at him, he’s annoyed.

“I told you to wait until the morning.”

“I know, I—”

“What? Want to give yourself another anxiety attack, because let me tell you something, that episode you experienced earlier . . .” His words falter, and I can tell how much my panic attack affected him. “You can’t treat your body like this. You’re worn down and sleep deprived.”

“Then help me, because I won’t be able to sleep knowing that I’m holding his name in my hand. The last time I was this close to him was twenty-three years ago. How am I supposed to sleep? How am I supposed to be patient?”

Raking his hand through his sleep-tousled hair, he releases a heavy breath and succumbs to my eagerness. “Will you start a pot of water for coffee?”

Relieved and grateful for his help, I jump up and let him take a seat, then head to the kitchen to fill the kettle and grind the beans for the French press. I move around the kitchen and gather a few things for the coffee tray. When the kettle whistles, I pour the water into the glass carafe and over the grounds.

I walk back into the office and set the tray down on the desk.

“Come here, darling,” Declan says, voice still scratchy with sleep.