Page 33 of The Castle (Endgame 3)
“I’ll stand outside the room,” he says finally. “With the door open.”
It’s a compromise. Not complete power. Not complete powerlessness, either.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
It still takes thirty minutes until I’m escorted downstairs. I imagine that Justin has been thoroughly searched, both his vehicle and his person. He’ll be puffed up and indignant. Don’t you know who I am?
Except the boy I find in the front parlor isn’t radiating pride. He’s watching the dark fireplace thoughtfully, hands behind his back. And if I’m not mistaken, he’s filled into his suit. He’s always been muscular, always active—a jock. Now he seems to have lost some of his bulk, but made up for it with a lean intensity that I find appealing.
He looks up as we enter. “Avery.”
My smile is genuine. This is a Justin I’ve never met before—mature and genuine. The one I had hoped to grow old with. “You’re looking well.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Thank you. And you’re stunning. But then you always were.”
Surprise stops me, halfway seated on the sofa. The shock must show on my face.
Justin gives me a rueful look, sitting opposite me. “I know I didn’t tell you enough when we were together. I guess I took it for granted. Or I thought you’d realize you were too good for me.”
“Seriously, where is Justin Walker and what have you done with him?”
A quiet laugh. “I’ve had some time to grow up.” His amusement fades. “Or maybe it wasn’t time that I needed. I’ve seen some things that helped me grow up. I think you’ve seen some, too.”
The auction. The fire. “Yes.”
“I’m relieved that you look healthy. And maybe even happy. I know Gabriel Miller has a reputation as a hard-ass, but I hoped he was treating you well.”
“He does,” I say, those two words taking on an unexpected sexual connotation as my mind flashes to our nightly chess games. My cheeks flame.
Justin gives a small cough. “I’m also a little surprised he let you see me.”
“He doesn’t control me,” I say.
A dubious look.
“Besides,” I add, “he’s not here right now.”
“Ah. Well, I’m glad we have the chance to talk.”
“Yes.” I hesitate. “Actually I’ve been worried about you, too. The stuff you said before, about working with men to steal the seat from your father. I’ve been worried you got yourself mixed up with a—”
His eyebrows rise in question.
“With a—with a dangerous lot,” I finish lamely.
“Nobody’s as dangerous as Gabriel Miller.”
Except for Jonathan Scott. “I’m not sure that’s true.”
“You aren’t that far off the mark. I got in deeper than I expected. Lost some. Won some. I don’t regret it because it’s the only way I could have become a man—breaking away from my father.”
“Do you see him?” I know how close they were.
Sorrow flashes across his eyes. “Not since I left. I’m sure he won’t speak to me again.”
“You’re his only son,” I protest.
“What’s the point of a son if he betrays you?”
Is that how Gabriel’s father felt? Then again, what’s the point of a father if he betrays you? “I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t come to commiserate. I came to help.”
I blink. “Help with what?”
“I know you’re looking for Jonathan Scott.”
Air rushes from my lungs. “Um.”
“It’s okay. I’m not working with him. In fact we’ve been looking for him, too, but we have bigger fish to fry at the moment. Entire governments, as a matter of fact.”
My eyes narrow. “What exactly have you got yourself into?”
“Things are going to get a lot worse before they get better. But I don’t want you caught up in it any more than you already have been.”
“Well, that’s very cryptic.”
“Look, your father—”
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
“He was in over his head.”
“And you’re not?”
“Oh, I definitely am. That’s not the point.”
“Then what’s the point?”
“The point is that Jonathan Scott hasn’t left Tanglewood.”
My lips press together. I don’t want to tell Justin anything, but Gabriel already knew that. At least he suspected. That’s why through all his searching, he’s always returned to me each night. “If you knew where in the city he was, that would help.”
He laughs. “Does it matter? He can be anywhere he wants in a second.”
“You make him sound like a ghost.” Dread sinks in my stomach.
“Isn’t he? That’s why you need to leave the city.”
I shake my head. “If he’s really after me, won’t he just follow me?”
“Even ghosts have their limits. He only haunts the west side. The farther away you are, the better.”
“Ghosts aren’t real,” I tell him, but a part of me wonders. Those voices. I can’t explain them. They feel too real to be a ghost, too terrifying to be a dream. I don’t know what they are. Could they be connected to Jonathan Scott?
Could he be causing them somehow?
My stomach clenches, and I know I can’t keep my secret much longer.
