Page 131 of Against The Tide

“Sounds like he was concerned about covering his back.”

“All that time, I thought that he was concerned about me and Iris. I don’t understand why he would do any of this. Why?”

“Why does anyone do anything?” He shrugs, pulling back. “Everyone has their own reasons for their actions and choices. We’ll never really know why because our moral compass is clearly very different to his.”

“What moral compass, Rowan? He killed my father, and he could’ve gotten Rhett killed. There’s no morality in that. In any of his actions. It all looks like nothing but greed to me.”

“I’d say that’s exactly what it is.”

“So what now? How does it end?”

“It’s why the agents are here. They want to talk to you.”

“I have nothing to say to them. I don’t know anything.” I shake my head adamantly as though that’s all the proof he needs to convince him.

“Yes, I know, but this was all triggered by an email sent to the Post. An email sent from your father’s personal email two weeks after he died.”

“That’s impossible,” I tell him while we start for the elevator. “Apart from the obvious, no one had access to his laptop. It’s in the safe in his office back at home. The only people that went to the house were me, Pricilla, and Mi…Mike. He went with me when I had to get the suit. He said he was locking up while I…”

Of course, it’s another detail I’ve missed. Another person I trusted that I shouldn’t have.

“Why would he do it?”

“Because there were emails between Carl and Kayla that clearly showed she was the one negotiating deals and handling the funds. Believe it or not, Carl’s only crime was covering up for her when he discovered the nature of the funds he was vetting.”

“Forgive me if I don’t sympathize.”

Rowan chuckles at my quip, coming to a stop by the restroom corridor so that I almost bump into him.

“If anything, the fact that he got himself killed and left me to deal with his shit…he’s left me to tell my daughter that her father is dead. How do I tell her that? It was so hard telling her about Dad, and now…”

“Iris is a smart girl. She’s spunky and tenacious. I’m beginning to see she takes after her mother.” Taking a deep breath, he adds, “I’m not an expert on fatherhood. Callie threatens me with physical violence whenever she leaves the kids with me.”

“Because you like to forget who the kids are.”

“True.”

“The reality is that you’re a great father, and I guess I should be grateful Carl wasn’t. Maybe it’ll make it easier for her.” In a dark, twisted way, maybe all the fights she witnessed between me and Carl will help take away from the pain.

Or maybe she doesn’t ever need to know. The thought crosses my mind for the umpteenth time today. It doesn’t matter how many times I think it, I know I can’t keep that from her. The truth is always harder to stomach, but in the long haul, so much easier than an eternity of lies. I can’t do that to her.

“How about you save that worry for tomorrow?” Rowan starts for the elevators again, and I’m following when the doors ping open and a well-dressed woman walks out.

Her eyes widen at the sight of me, and it dawns on me how I must look while she almost trips over herself. Looking down at my hands, I stop in my tracks.

“Wait,” I call, making Rowan look back at me, holding the door for the elevator. An assessing look crosses his face for a short second before I tell him, “I don’t want him to see me like this.”

It seems so silly and unimportant, but I don’t want Rhett to look at me and see what happened. I don’t want to look like I’m about to fall apart so that he worries about me rather than focusing on taking it easy on himself. I know what Rhett’s like—he’ll ignore his needs to put mine first. Just like he risked his life for mine.

A small fluttering smile hitches one side of Rowan’s mouth. When he runs his hands through his hair, I notice the specks of blood on his tattooed forearms and the way the insides of his sleeves are stained a rusty red.

“A part of me hated you for taking me away from him. I just wanted to hold on to him like you did. So stupid to be jealous at a time like that.”

“Crazy, yes, but not stupid,” he scoffs, heading back toward the restrooms with me.

When we get to the corridor, he takes a searching look around us before walking me to the restroom door. It’s swinging shut, and as I go in, he pulls me back by my elbow.

“Anything and you scream, got it?”